There are things people are afraid of – some of them are silly, some of them are utterly ludicrous, some of them are fair, some of them are completely right, some of them are weird and so on and so forth. I know people scared of flying, those who fear the arachnid menace filling our British households with tiny, eight-legged freaks. I know those who constantly fear being mugged, stabbed, bummed in the gob or shot with a musket by an unknown assailant.
I know people who are scared of dying, all the time. Those who aren’t too pleased about the thought of getting old. Some who lose sleep over the thought of being alone. One who squeals at the sight of cotton wool.
I know people are scared of odd things, and I know them quite well. Also: I’m scared of volcanoes. And to be honest, I think it’s a more pertinent and correct fear to have than any other fear I’ve ever heard of. Why? These are scars in the earth that are set to explode.
If every volcano in the world just decided to erupt at the same time, the world would probably end. I have no actual evidence to back this up, but I reckon it’s pretty true. There are hidden supervolcanoes in certain places around the world that could kill millions with the least effort.
Lava can melt your soul. Explosive flying rocks will kill mercilessly and without reason. Volcanoes and earthquakes are best mates. Some volcanoes never stop erupting. One was even enough of a shit to stop people from making international flights. Sure, it wasn’t enough to kill anyone, but it’s just another reason why volcanoes are bastards: they sometimes do things just to be dickheads.
If I ever meet a volcano again (I met Teide in Tenerife, a few times. He is my nemesis) I’m going to smack it in its stupid face. Not too hard though, I don’t want it to go off.