That's what I feared. My brain is insufficiently advanced to assimilate or act on such information.

Why?

Massive ego.

A counter in your Journal? My dear sir, you disappoint.

One has grown used to the high standards of this establishment, and any move to introduce a counter service will drastically lower the tone. Damn the cost sir! You must preserve the discrete waiters, hepplewhite furnishings, polished silverware and ice buckets.

If your cultured readers have to queue at a counter to receive your offerings on a chipped or plastic plate, I fear they will leave in their pin-striped droves and the place will fill with the hoi-polloi clad in ghastly kappa and bling. In turn your writings will become infected with dropped consonants and the abbreviations beloved of the texting generation.

If times are hard, as they are for many, perhaps you could turn to English Heritage or the National Trust for a grant. True, this may require opening your Journal to the Lower Classes on a few weekends a year, and in which case a temporary counter might be installed where they could be heavily overcharged for a few of your lesser literary morsels.

The trouble is, I'm already getting hoi poloi in here. Only the other day, for example, the ex-Religious Affairs Correspondent of The Independent wandered through, pausing only to dump his virtual crisp wrappers and wipe his virtual nose on his virtual sleeve. And a very down-market freelance journalist has been leaving comments in my Guestbook. I fear that, having thus far experienced only the cream of Livejournal, I may soon have to suffer a wave a dross. At least a Counter would tell me, not just how many of them there are, but their ISPs, too. That way, perhaps, I could institute some sort of door policy.