and its usually the bloke who's paying the most that gets the bestest connection.ĭon’t get all sensible, let him have his moan. It is the nature of the streaming/connected world we live in - everyone wants a piece of that cable or airwave that the stuff is coming across. Mulberry wrote:Therein lies the solution. and its usually the bloke who's paying the most that gets the bestest connection. Its just part and parcel of how it is if you're watching the city on anything other than a genuine matchday Sky broadcast or stream. To be honest, I've watched the city all over the place in the back of the van via my phone or random wifi feeds I find - some are good, others stutter like nothing on earth, some have stutters on stutters. If you were trying via your own phone internet, then perhaps they throttle the heck out of VPN'd connections.ĭont forget any VPN, involves data up to VPN, data from VPN to footie stream, footie stream back to VPN, VPN to your device via whatever links are needed inbetween. That service will hugely degrade when you put a VPN over the top to boot, simply due to the system overheads involved in VPNing to anything such as a live footie stream. Hospital wifi is notoriously crud, provided usually by an outside service who charge shedloads for a severely mediocre service. I believe it's Barry Manilow's 'Mandy' he's humming.You say you are/were in hospital - were you using the hospital wifi? I shall probably report on some journey stats and our antics while we're here for the next three days - but for now I can hear Dave showering in the room above mine. He allowed me the customary simmering time, then we shook hands and sorted it out like chaps do.įrom there it was literally a 15 mile roll down to the coast, just west of Nice airport - and after finding out where we'd be able to get bike boxes on Saturday at the airport itself - we found the sign welcoming us to Nice. All totally irrational, and like a toddler having a strop - I gave him what for when he finally rolled up. I was incandescent with rage - not for any reason other than I was very thirsty, was waiting (again) for Dave to appear, and couldn't believe he'd just stop without me. When I eventually got through some 20 mins later he cheerfully informed me that he was in the checkout queue buying groceries and where was I? I waited, and waited - then became worried, and then noticed Dave had tried to call me. The loosely made plan was to stop at an Intermarche supermarket en route and stock up - but as I was quite a way ahead of Dave, and I saw a Casino supermarket that was more en route but about 1km further on - I headed for that. They call the region Alpes Maritimes for a reason - and by our mid-morning Maccy Dees stop we were both weary and bad tempered.įinally, the old town of Grasse came into view at lunchtime, but due to another dodgy bit of map and Garmin reading we ended up climbing to the very peak of Grasse - both out of food and water. We hit the road knowing there were some hard climbs - but God in heaven, I wasn't ready for these. So, with the fridge quiet - and spare pillow stuffed in the door to blackout the light, I finally nodded off to be immediately woken by my alarm.īreakfast on the hotel terrace was nice, but it was hot already at 7-30am - today was going to be tricky. I could stop the noise by opening its door, but then the room lit up like a grotto. ![]() ![]() I made several attempts to unplug it, only to find that it was wired direct into the wall. I woke from an awful night's sleep due to the fridge in the room sounding like a Boeing 747 idling.
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