There's the very handy visitor counter/site meter thingy at the bottom which tells me what part of the world/country each visitor hails from (mostly via Facebook and a particularly Elite Writing Group I belong to, which is nice to know) and occasionally I'll get a hint at what words were searched for resulting in the visitor... um, visiting... but unless I get a proper 'follower' person joining my happy band of readers, or somebody making a comment (in English please) then I'm really none the wiser.
The oddest search words I've had were lick my boots. And before you go trying that one at home, I've deleted that post anyway because when I changed my background colour it made the whole post go a funny shade of puce. As Paddy McGuinness (don't you just love him-but-don't-know-why?) would say... "no likey" not at all.
Because generally the things that make me laugh and make me seethe and make me squirm and make me want to blog about the most are people - people I work with, people I live with, people I meet in the street - okay then, Sainsburys. And people I'm family with.
I know I can safely get away with having a sly dig at the Hubby because he wouldn't do anything so remotely out of character as wanting to read, voluntarily and with mounting excitement in his bones, anything that I've written. Oh dear me, no. He's a proper Husband and proper husbands don't read stuff their wives laughingly call 'books.'
Not until they're signing the six figure advance, I'm guessing.
And if I DID mention an incident or a conversation or something that made me white with rage/hilarity/disgust, then it might be pursued by the inevitable query (and let's face it, nobody wants to be persued by a query - inevitable or otherwise) "Was that me? Was it? Go on - you can tell me...was that me you were blogging about?"
I've just realised that maybe I should just blog and be done with it because once I'm published *and I will be* I will still be persued by the inevitable queries then, won't I?Anyway, my point was that I don't want to upset anybody (apart from the Hubby and he should have read the small print on the Marriage certificate if he's got a problem with that, shouldn't he?). So I do as my Nan used to tell me and if I "can't say anything nice, don't say anything at all".
Mind you I've done that in the past, and it's still risen up and bitten me squarely on the arse.
Sometimes you just can't win.
I'm saying nowt.
*This is a visualisation technique brought to you via several self-help manuals, some lovely writer friends and a lot of Notes from the Universe*