There we are, then, it's all blown over and everything's back to its rightful place, as it should be. Only the regulars are still around now - some of whom I owe an e-mail response; don't worry, I'll get to all of you in turn, once the ruckus has died down - and there's room for everyone, and quiet, too, now that the new crowd has moved on to the next big thing. Sure, there's less business, but that's all right - we'll make do. Our regulars are more important. That's who we're here for.

We had five times more hits yesterday than we have on any average Thursday. Five times! Good lord. There's a steady stream of visitors to this website on a daily basis - my Regular Readers; give yourself a pat on the shoulder if you're one of them, you deserve it - but yesterday's rowdy bunch was an unannounced, and unexpected, avalanche. Good thing there was room for everyone, then, and cookies too, and hot chocolate. What, you didn't get any? Well then, love, you were too late, weren't you?

Not that those new visitors aren't welcome back; of course they are. Our doors are always open, and I'd never turn anyone away. But occasional guest and Regular Reader are two very different things. We're polite and welcoming to the first group, but we warmly embrace - like old friends - the second group. This is where everybody knows your name. Sort of.

How does one become a Regular Reader, then? One reads, regularly, the cra- uh, the journal entries that comprise this...journal. Obviously. It's awfully simple, really. Give yourself six- no, three...make that two. One. One month of reading the journal, at least once every week, and you're a Regular Reader. Send us an e-mail with your credentials, and we'll send you an electronic diploma. Honest. It's that easy. Now there's no excuse. Don't settle for less.

And since this obviously didn't register the first time I said it:

War. Of. The. Balance.

Got it? There you are, then. Does it mean anything? Of course it doesn't. When did this journal ever contain anything of value? It never did. What's the chance you'll ever read those four words again, in that order, on this site? Less than one in ten. Any point in getting excited? There's never any point in getting excited. Why so glum? It's Friday night, and I'm knackered.  ¶ 23:48