Something extraordinary has happened to my stats. I check these about once a week, as a rule of thumb. I don't type very frequently as Real Life has a habit of taking over, dragging me away from the laptop most of the time, so I usually don't have very much to wonder at when I see them, apart from what on earth does anyone make of it if they land on my blog, say, from The People's Republic of China. I always assume most hits are a result of bored flicking. My main readers, such as they are, follow my link from FB and comment under that on my timeline, to avoid squiggle-squinting. They are mostly chums I don't see much of, who have moved to live abroad, etc. I rarely have a comment from a total stranger. Delighted when I do, though!
Meanwhile, I find it a little saddening that the certain-to-be-brief increase in interest in me here on Blogger is most probably because a bunch of people have taken against me, or at least against who they THINK I may be. A rowdy rabble seems to have attracted a minor mob of curious onlookers. Perhaps they think they heard a car crash. They are a strangely silent mob. Comments don't follow whatever reading has been done, not even abusive ones, from any quarters I don't recognise. Maybe I am doing the new clickers a disservice in assuming they are just over here to glower wordlessly at me, arms crossed. They might be intrigued, for micro-second. But the attention span of an average half-attentive Internet user with the other eye on the telly isn't known for its solid and lasting spirit of enquiry.
I know mine isn't. Unless it's a film on YouTube of Verdi's Reqiem conducted by von Karajan, just possibly. That is properly spell-binding.
Ah, well, it'll pass. Looking forward to the middle of next week and the resumption of the calm unfussy flat lining I usually enjoy; Blogger death for some, an enticing wide blue horizon for me.