Toward the Last Spike

    Earlier this morning I was writing to a friend now overseas that the weather in my neck of the woods had been relatively (and uncharacteristically) temperate.  So much for that: as of this writing, it's 31C sans humidex, which means it's probably around 36 or 37C.  In short, as many people are saying so pithily today, it's fucking hot.  Thankfully I've got a few beers chilling to make the swelter slightly more tolerable, but they likely won't last long.  They'll die nobly.  Be they ever so vile, these Laker Lagers, this day shall gentle their conditions.  Heinekens shall think themselves accursed they were not here.

 

    In other news (?), I've noticed a peculiar spike in the numbers of people alighting on this humble excuse for a blog in the past few days.  SiteMeter tells me that per day visits here have inexplicably trebled to quadrupled, Google seeming to provide more than 80% of these referrals, up from what used to be (maybe) 20% before Thursday.  So why the sudden vault in traffic?  Damned if I know, though I suspect it's the result of something Google has done.  This is especially ironic because I'm increasingly unsure as to who is reading this risible page anymore, the onetime regulars here having found better things to do or simply going quiet.  And yet, I also seem to have cultivated some regular and semi-regular readers from some rather surprising parts of the world, given how provincial even I acknowledge this blog to be.  (No delusions of grandeur here, just rampant silliness and general incredulity.)  So, I guess I'm wondering--- for the first time, really--- who's reading (er, qualify that: bothering to read) this page anymore.  Don't get me wrong--- all are welcome, very much so, in all manners and means.  One does wonder, though, about one's audience.  There's a reason, after all, that the most famous play in the English language begins with "who's there," beyond that it's the most engorged knock-knock joke in literary history.  Colour me befuddled with that question for now. 

 

    Ah, mystification.... Let it gentle my condition, such as it is, sweaty and tired.  Those Heinekens should be accursed they are not here....