…But What Are The Questions?
I don’t know yet, you haven’t asked me any.
Very early this morning – as in, about 60% of the way into my first coffee – I happened to look at Twitterings’ readership statistics. And received a nice surprise.
Now, that was a bit early for surprises, so I had to finish the other forty percent before I could fully realize the significance. You see, the number of visitors in March was double the number of February. That’s very gratifying.
Now, if I’d had a second coffee I might have become over-excited and I might have started to extrapolate those figures to predict millions of readers by year-end. But. I’m old enough and wise enough (well, one out of two ain’t bad) to understand the vagaries of Google’s algorithms. Aside from which, extrapolating before breakfast is bad for the blood pressure.
The thing is, no one really knows how Google ranks websites, not even Google. Their algorithms have minds of their own. And you thought the top scientists’ concerns about artificial intelligence were unfounded. Wrong. Algorithms rule the world.
But what has that to with ten questions?
Well, you see, we don’t communicate do we? I write, you read, but I have no idea what you really want to know. Maybe once or twice a year someone will write something in the Comments box that’s at the bottom of every posting. Friends send me e-mails, but no one else.
So, ask me something. Anything. Why do I blog? How do I find places to tootle to? What’s my favorite place in Thailand? Do I enjoy travelling alone? What’s on my bucket list? Do I even have a bucket? Will Bert and Ms. Chuckles ever get married? You get the idea.
As I say, there’s the Comments box below, or you can e-mail me at firstname.lastname@example.org Never fear, I will keep all names and e-mail addresses private.
Oh, and if you e-mail, it would help if you would put “Twitterings” in the subject line. That way you won’t end up in my spam folder. Trust me, you don’t want that to happen. There’s some very unsavory characters in there.
So, it’s your turn. Get twittering…