Week 210: orthodoxy of bed-making

Happy UTC+1. Of course the clocks’ springing has broken some bus data things, which aren’t my fault but might be my problem. It’s probably for the same sort of reason that the laser display boards here have been showing “refer to timetables” or “welcome to [name of stop]” all day. Well I haven’t updated the oven clock yet, so I can’t claim any moral high ground.

Troubled by reports of website slowness again, pages taking 20 minutes to load? And surely there’d be even more reports if the slowness didn’t extend to the contact page. But it’s pretty fast for me, so I don’t know, I need to see a screenshot of someone’s developer tools’ network tab. The programmatic advertising crap is huger than ever these days, a large surface area, so there’s a chance it’s something in that. Years ago, my workplace’s internet connection ceased connecting to a popular CDN, which was interesting; in this case, it seems to affect customers of BT and EE, so I’ve ordered a SIM card to test. (They’ve some attractive discounts, attractive until they diabolically increase prices above inflation at the end of the month.)

An headline in the worst newspaper, “I’ve saved hundreds by never washing my bed sheets”. Read on, and actually the titular “I” still washes their bed sheets (on a cold cycle) once a month, infinity times more than never – just when you thought these callow journalists couldn’t stoop any lower. (Apparently they’ve taken some measures to keep the sheets fresh between washes: no dogs or food or dirty workclothes in bed, etc.)

By the way, I challenge the orthodoxy of bed-making, I think it’s important to let the sheets “breathe” during the day, because “sunlight is the best disinfectant” isn’t only a metaphor for the importance of transparency and accountability in an organisation, the ultraviolets kill bacteria and stuff. But the problem is it sounds like an excuse for being lazy and slovenly, and I’ll grudgingly admit that maybe traditional bed-making stops dust mites getting in the sheets in the first place.

Up to London’s glittering Royal Albert Hall, to see Wet Leg (you probably call them “the wet legs”) + special guests Honeyglaze (the worst thing to do to carrots) and CMAT (marvellous). My preferred trousers hadn’t dried completely after coming out the wash, so that was nearly maybe ironic, but I wore some different trousers instead, which by the way are so loose and comfortable that sometimes it’s like not wearing any trousers at all.

Liked the RAH, easily one of my top 10 halls. Raced against time to catch the last train back down, and somehow won, sat panting behind a group of Jim Jeffries fans just as one of them was explaining end-to-end encryption.