Once upon a time there was a little girl who loved to write stories. These stories were typically sad, sorry affairs about her inability to make anything useful. Sometimes they were about the things she did manage to make, usually not well. Sometimes they were simply about songs she had stuck in her sorry little head.
Despite all this, the little girl was terribly full of herself and kept a secret tracking device on her stories, so as to be able to see which stories people liked reading the most. Coincidentally, the secret tracking device allowed her to see what people searched for when reading her stories. Usually it was "patterns" or "uniforms" or "music", because she usually wrote about patterns and uniforms and music.
To the best of her knowledge she had never (no, not ever) written about... berets.
The little girl was more than a smidgen puzzled by this. Had she written about her grandfather's lifelong penchant for hats, and berets in particular? Had she written about her grandmother's insistence that she wear a pompommed wool beret for Saturday Boutique Shopping every week when she was seven? Had she written about how five years ago her mother had purchased eleven (eleven) authentic red French berets towards the (rather hopeless) purpose of making everyone in the family wear one for the Family Christmas Photo? Um. No. She hadn't.
Seriously? If this is you and you came back, I so want to know what you were looking for. Honest. Because if there's one thing in this world I hate, it's a beret (you wouldn't be expected to know that, I'm just saying). And so it's funny to me that you were looking for berets on my blog. And intriguing.
Honest. This has just been puzzling me for six hours now. Curse you, Stat Counters, and your mysterious tantalizing tidbits!