A plea to all visitors

... and I won't call you 'readers' because I have no idea whether you stay or skim a few lines, tell yourself it's awful and fuck off sharpish. If I am honest, I have, for one reason or another, read several blogs, both on this Google site and elsewhere, and - oh, dear, should I really admit it? - none has done anything for me. Those by younger bloggers - those I have so far read - are just inconsequential bollocks, so personal as to be unintelligible, and the other were about areas in which I have no interest.
Who do we write for? Well, I can't speak for anyone else, but I write to be read. I don't write for myself. Years ago when I kept a diary, from around 1981 to 1995, handwritten in hardback A4 ledgers, I consciously wrote for 'a reader'. I can't imagine anyone will ever read those, and they will most probably be thrown out with the rest of my stuff, when either of my children or perhaps a grandchild clears out 'all that rubbish'.
But that isn't the point I was making: the point is that the diaries - and this blog - were not and is not written for me.

A recent visitor
Why would it be? They are written for you. I am, after all, a hack (and I use the term in its proudest sense - yes, there is one) although all I have got out of writing so far is a few pleasant buckshee holidays. (I am not a writer or a reporter on the paper I work for but a sub-editor, copy editor in North America.)
So my request: using the new-found 'stats' feature, I now know where visitors - suprisingly more than I ever thought - are from. And I know they have used other blog directing sites and international versions of the ubiquitous Google. But> Another recent visitor
I don't know why they arrived here, and I should like to, and I don't know what they think of what I write, and I should like to. So, if you are not exactly violently opposed to the idea, would you, my reader, consider leaving just a small comment explaining where you live, who you are and just how and why you arrived here?
You could, of course, always tell me to fuck off and mind my own business (one of the undoubted benefits of living in the Free World - try saying that in Russia), but I'd rather you didn't.
PS The pictures, as we say in the trade, are of two bona fide visitors - don't think I'm trying to butter you up. Perish the thought.