After a week or so of perfect reliability, at last the connectivity problem happened again. Brilliant, I thought, and leapt to point the floating IP address at a different server. But immediately that server started having the problem, and the other was OK again – the problem seemed to follow the floating IP address around.
So let’s say that floating IP address is cursed or something. The DigitalOcean support folks are useless, although I wouldn’t dream of leaving negative feedback when asked to rate my satisfaction, because it’s probably not the poor staff’s fault.
The main thing is now I have a new, better solution involving a Cloudflare load balancer, so let’s see how that works out. I have some complaints about Cloudflare’s UI, had great difficulty finding my way around and trying to input my card details to pay them some money, but never mind.
🎦 Benediction (the Siegfried Sassoon biopic). It had already started when I stumbled in, I guess were no adverts and trailers because it was a special early screening that was supposed to be accompanied by a recorded Q&A? And the projector bulb was rather dim. Still, glad I went. It’s a slightly odd voice that Peter Capaldi does in it.
On Her Majesty’s Secret Service. Some jolly silly fun. Twice we saw an associate of Telly Savalas falling to their death from off of a mountain, and neither time could George Lazenby’s Bond think of a lame quip, even though each fall was long and slow – pathetic – but never mind. Your local Vue are probably showing the remaining films over the next several months.
Last week, one of the things that made me mutter oh fuck off was when the centrist media hyphenate Richard Osman came on the loudspeaker while I was considering washing-up liquid in Sainsbury’s. Osman was advertising his new audiobook, I think? But they don’t sell audiobooks in Sainsbury’s, so how strange.
Friday. Had a little evening bicycle ride. Went to Sainsbury’s. Osman’s disembodied voice boomed again, and this time I stayed quiet, and turns out it’s a paperback he’s advertising after all. Makes more sense. Cool story.
A little mechanical problem on the way back meant I had to walk for a bit and spilled some beefy Korean supper on the ground. The sticky red puddle had almost all gone by the following morning, licked up by foxes I presume, nice for them. This might feel like a warning about the perils of active travel, but it’s equally possible to spill milk in the boot (“trunk”) of your motor car, and foxes’ tongues won’t help you then.