What are the odds? Today is the 800th entry in this series of web blogs. 800. And it is my sister’s 40th birthday. Who could have predicted these two events would coincide? Other than anyone knowing my sister’s birth date, the date I started the blog and had a small amount of time on their hands. Or the two former items on the list and some more time but being more stupid.
Perhaps you will allow me to indulge a bit of reflection.
Why do I bother? I have been contemplating writing an entry about how no-one is reading the blog for the last week or so. Prompted by noticing that no-one was reading the blog. I liked the irony of writing a blog about no-one reading the blog that would be read by very few people. And indeed the few people who did read it would be casting inaccuracy shadows on the blog. More layers than an onion.
I think I would prefer it if I couldn’t see how many people were viewing the blog. And shut up saying don’t look, then. Of course I am going to look. In an ideal world it would be read by 300,000 people a day and would be my job. But it turns out that I am neither interesting nor funny enough to tempt even a small group of people who know me to spend about four minutes a day reading this shit.
It turns out that doesn’t bother me that much. Up to you what you read. I just thought I was interesting. Maybe not eh? What also turns out to be the truth is that I really enjoy the writing. Sometimes it is a pain in the neck-tie. Sometimes it is frustrating to try and think of something to write when I have done nothing with a day. Turns out those are often the very rare days when someone will say they enjoyed my blog or it gets liked on the social network Facebook.
I do really like it on the days when lots of people read it (lots means about 30 by the way, don’t imagine lots means, well, lots). That mainly involves a spat with a minor celebrity, though. My favourite blog was still one set in a 1950s factory about a lathe operator. No-one read it or liked it. Still my best one.
Unfortunately, for those people bound by some sense of duty to carry on reading, I will not be stopping at 800. Sorry.
This entry is dedicated to my sister – for the purposes of her privacy I shall call her Samantha – who is a beautiful woman, has been a good sister and at times a right bitch. But she is brilliant. And she doesn’t read this blog so I can get away with saying these nice things, and calling her a bitch.