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New Logic for Programmers Release! v0.12 is now available! This should be the last major content release. The next few months are going to be technical review, copyediting and polishing, with a hopeful 1.0 release in March. Full release notes here. Three ways formally verified code can go wrong in practice I run this small project called Let's Prove Leftpad, where people submit formally verified proofs of the eponymous meme. Recently I read Breaking “provably correct” Leftpad, which argued that most (if not all) of the provably correct leftpads have bugs! The lean proof, for example, should render leftpad('-', 9, אֳֽ֑) as ---------אֳֽ֑, but actually does ------אֳֽ֑. You can read the article for a good explanation of why this goes wrong (Unicode). The actual problem is that correct can mean two different things, and this leads to confusion about how much formal methods can actually guarantee us. So I see this as a great opportunity to talk about the nature of proof, correctness, and how "correct" code can still have bugs. What we talk about when we talk about correctness In most of the real world, correct means "no bugs". Except "bugs" isn't a very clear category. A bug is anything that causes someone to say "this isn't working right, there's a bug." Being too slow is a bug, a typo is a bug, etc. "correct" is a little fuzzy. In formal methods, "correct" has a very specific and precise meaning: the code conforms to a specification (or "spec"). The spec is a higher-level description of what is supposed the code's properties, usually something we can't just directly implement. Let's look at the most popular kind of proven specification: -- Haskell inc :: Int -> Int inc x = x + 1 The type signature Int -> Int is a specification! It corresponds to the logical statement all x in Int: inc(x) in Int. The Haskell type checker can automatically verify this for us. It cannot, however, verify properties like all x in Int: inc(x) > x. Formal verification is concerned with verifying arbitrary properties beyond what is (easily) automatically verifiable. Most often, this takes the form of proof. A human manually writes a proof that the code conforms to its specification, and the prover checks that the proof is correct. Even if we have a proof of "correctness", though, there's a few different ways the code can still have bugs. 1. The proof is invalid For some reason the proof doesn't actually show the code matches the specification. This is pretty common in pencil-and-paper verification, where the proof is checked by someone saying "yep looks good to me". It's much rarer when doing formal verification but it can still happen in a couple of specific cases: The theorem prover itself has a bug (in the code or introduced in the compiled binary) that makes it accept an incorrect proof. This is something people are really concerned about but it's so much rarer than every other way verified code goes wrong, so is only included for completeness. For convenience, most provers and FM languages have an "just accept this statement is true" feature. This helps you work on the big picture proof and fill in the details later. If you leave in a shortcut, and the compiler is configured to allow code-with-proof-assumptions to compile, then you can compile incorrect code that "passes the proof checker". You really should know better, though. 2. The properties are wrong Galois This code is provably correct: inc :: Int -> Int inc x = x-1 The only specification I've given is the type signature Int -> Int. At no point did I put the property inc(x) > x in my specification, so it doesn't matter that it doesn't hold, the code is still "correct". This is what "went wrong" with the leftpad proofs. They do not prove the property "leftpad(c, n, s) will take up either n spaces on the screen or however many characters s takes up (if more than n)". They prove the weaker property "len(leftpad(c, n, s)) == max(n, len(s)), for however you want to define len(string)". The second is a rough proxy for the first that works in most cases, but if someone really needs the former property they are liable to experience a bug. Why don't we prove the stronger property? Sometimes it's because the code is meant to be used one way and people want to use it another way. This can lead to accusations that the developer is "misusing the provably correct code" but this should more often be seen as the verification expert failing to educate devs on was actually "proven". Sometimes it's because the property is too hard to prove. "Outputs are visually aligned" is a proof about Unicode inputs, and the core Unicode specification is 1,243 pages long. Sometimes it's because the property we want is too hard to express. How do you mathematically represent "people will perceive the output as being visually aligned"? Is it OS and font dependent? These two lines are exactly five characters but not visually aligned: ||||| MMMMM Or maybe they are aligned for you! I don't know, lots of people read email in a monospace font. "We can't express the property" comes up a lot when dealing with human/business concepts as opposed to mathematical/computational ones. Finally, there's just the possibility of a brain fart. All of the proofs in Nearly All Binary Searches and Mergesorts are Broken are like this. They (informally) proved the correctness of binary search with unbound integers, forgetting that many programming languages use machine integers, where a large enough sum can overflow. 3. The assumptions are wrong This is arguably the most important and most subtle source of bugs. Most properties we prove aren't "X is always true". They are "assuming Y is true, X is also true". Then if Y is not true, the proof no longer guarantees X. A good example of this is binary sort, which only correctly finds elements assuming the input list is sorted. If the list is not sorted, it will not work correctly. Formal verification adds two more wrinkles. One: sometimes we need assumptions to make the property valid, but we can also add them to make the proof easier. So the code can be bug-free even if the assumptions used to verify it no longer hold! Even if a leftpad implements visual alignment for all Unicode glyphs, it will be a lot easier to prove visual alignment for just ASCII strings and padding. Two: we need make a lot of environmental assumptions that are outside our control. Does the algorithm return output or use the stack? Need to assume that there's sufficient memory to store stuff. Does it use any variables? Need to assume nothing is concurrently modifying them. Does it use an external service? Need to assume the vendor doesn't change the API or response formats. You need to assume the compiler worked correctly, the hardware isn't faulty, and the OS doesn't mess with things, etc. Any of these could change well after the code is proven and deployed, meaning formal verification can't be a one-and-done thing. You don't actually have to assume most of these, but each assumption drop makes the proof harder and the properties you can prove more restricted. Remember, the code might still be bug-free even if the environmental assumptions change, so there's a tradeoff in time spent proving vs doing other useful work. Another common source of "assumptions" is when verified code depends on unverified code. The Rust compiler can prove that safe code doesn't have a memory bug assuming unsafe code does not have one either, but depends on the human to confirm that assumption. Liquid Haskell is verifiable but can also call regular Haskell libraries, which are unverified. We need to assume that code is correct (in the "conforms to spec") sense, and if it's not, our proof can be "correct" and still cause bugs. These boundaries are fuzzy. I wrote that the "binary search" bug happened because they proved the wrong property, but you can just as well argue that it was a broken assumption (that integers could not overflow). What really matters is having a clear understanding of what "this code is proven correct" actually tells you. Where can you use it safely? When should you worry? How do you communicate all of this to your teammates? Good lord it's already Friday
Greetings everyone! You might have noticed that it's September and I don't have the next version of Logic for Programmers ready. As penance, here's ten free copies of the book. So a few months ago I wrote a newsletter about how we use nondeterminism in formal methods. The overarching idea: Nondeterminism is when multiple paths are possible from a starting state. A system preserves a property if it holds on all possible paths. If even one path violates the property, then we have a bug. An intuitive model of this is that for this is that when faced with a nondeterministic choice, the system always makes the worst possible choice. This is sometimes called demonic nondeterminism and is favored in formal methods because we are paranoid to a fault. The opposite would be angelic nondeterminism, where the system always makes the best possible choice. A property then holds if any possible path satisfies that property.1 This is not as common in FM, but it still has its uses! "Players can access the secret level" or "We can always shut down the computer" are reachability properties, that something is possible even if not actually done. In broader computer science research, I'd say that angelic nondeterminism is more popular, due to its widespread use in complexity analysis and programming languages. Complexity Analysis P is the set of all "decision problems" (basically, boolean functions) can be solved in polynomial time: there's an algorithm that's worst-case in O(n), O(n²), O(n³), etc.2 NP is the set of all problems that can be solved in polynomial time by an algorithm with angelic nondeterminism.3 For example, the question "does list l contain x" can be solved in O(1) time by a nondeterministic algorithm: fun is_member(l: List[T], x: T): bool { if l == [] {return false}; guess i in 0..<(len(l)-1); return l[i] == x; } Say call is_member([a, b, c, d], c). The best possible choice would be to guess i = 2, which would correctly return true. Now call is_member([a, b], d). No matter what we guess, the algorithm correctly returns false. and just return false. Ergo, O(1). NP stands for "Nondeterministic Polynomial". (And I just now realized something pretty cool: you can say that P is the set of all problems solvable in polynomial time under demonic nondeterminism, which is a nice parallel between the two classes.) Computer scientists have proven that angelic nondeterminism doesn't give us any more "power": there are no problems solvable with AN that aren't also solvable deterministically. The big question is whether AN is more efficient: it is widely believed, but not proven, that there are problems in NP but not in P. Most famously, "Is there any variable assignment that makes this boolean formula true?" A polynomial AN algorithm is again easy: fun SAT(f(x1, x2, …: bool): bool): bool { N = num_params(f) for i in 1..=num_params(f) { guess x_i in {true, false} } return f(x_1, x_2, …) } The best deterministic algorithms we have to solve the same problem are worst-case exponential with the number of boolean parameters. This a real frustrating problem because real computers don't have angelic nondeterminism, so problems like SAT remain hard. We can solve most "well-behaved" instances of the problem in reasonable time, but the worst-case instances get intractable real fast. Means of Abstraction We can directly turn an AN algorithm into a (possibly much slower) deterministic algorithm, such as by backtracking. This makes AN a pretty good abstraction over what an algorithm is doing. Does the regex (a+b)\1+ match "abaabaabaab"? Yes, if the regex engine nondeterministically guesses that it needs to start at the third letter and make the group aab. How does my PL's regex implementation find that match? I dunno, backtracking or NFA construction or something, I don't need to know the deterministic specifics in order to use the nondeterministic abstraction. Neel Krishnaswami has a great definition of 'declarative language': "any language with a semantics has some nontrivial existential quantifiers in it". I'm not sure if this is identical to saying "a language with an angelic nondeterministic abstraction", but they must be pretty close, and all of his examples match: SQL's selects and joins Parsing DSLs Logic programming's unification Constraint solving On top of that I'd add CSS selectors and planner's actions; all nondeterministic abstractions over a deterministic implementation. He also says that the things programmers hate most in declarative languages are features that "that expose the operational model": constraint solver search strategies, Prolog cuts, regex backreferences, etc. Which again matches my experiences with angelic nondeterminism: I dread features that force me to understand the deterministic implementation. But they're necessary, since P probably != NP and so we need to worry about operational optimizations. Eldritch Nondeterminism If you need to know the ratio of good/bad paths, the number of good paths, or probability, or anything more than "there is a good path" or "there is a bad path", you are beyond the reach of heaven or hell. Angelic and demonic nondeterminism are duals: angelic returns "yes" if some choice: correct and demonic returns "no" if !all choice: correct, which is the same as some choice: !correct. ↩ Pet peeve about Big-O notation: O(n²) is the set of all algorithms that, for sufficiently large problem sizes, grow no faster that quadratically. "Bubblesort has O(n²) complexity" should be written Bubblesort in O(n²), not Bubblesort = O(n²). ↩ To be precise, solvable in polynomial time by a Nondeterministic Turing Machine, a very particular model of computation. We can broadly talk about P and NP without framing everything in terms of Turing machines, but some details of complexity classes (like the existence "weak NP-hardness") kinda need Turing machines to make sense. ↩
New Logic for Programmers Release! v0.11 is now available! This is over 20% longer than v0.10, with a new chapter on code proofs, three chapter overhauls, and more! Full release notes here. Software books I wish I could read I'm writing Logic for Programmers because it's a book I wanted to have ten years ago. I had to learn everything in it the hard way, which is why I'm ensuring that everybody else can learn it the easy way. Books occupy a sort of weird niche in software. We're great at sharing information via blogs and git repos and entire websites. These have many benefits over books: they're free, they're easily accessible, they can be updated quickly, they can even be interactive. But no blog post has influenced me as profoundly as Data and Reality or Making Software. There is no blog or talk about debugging as good as the Debugging book. It might not be anything deeper than "people spend more time per word on writing books than blog posts". I dunno. So here are some other books I wish I could read. I don't think any of them exist yet but it's a big world out there. Also while they're probably best as books, a website or a series of blog posts would be ok too. Everything about Configurations The whole topic of how we configure software, whether by CLI flags, environmental vars, or JSON/YAML/XML/Dhall files. What causes the configuration complexity clock? How do we distinguish between basic, advanced, and developer-only configuration options? When should we disallow configuration? How do we test all possible configurations for correctness? Why do so many widespread outages trace back to misconfiguration, and how do we prevent them? I also want the same for plugin systems. Manifests, permissions, common APIs and architectures, etc. Configuration management is more universal, though, since everybody either uses software with configuration or has made software with configuration. The Big Book of Complicated Data Schemas I guess this would kind of be like Schema.org, except with a lot more on the "why" and not the what. Why is important for the Volcano model to have a "smokingAllowed" field?1 I'd see this less as "here's your guide to putting Volcanos in your database" and more "here's recurring motifs in modeling interesting domains", to help a person see sources of complexity in their own domain. Does something crop up if the references can form a cycle? If a relationship needs to be strictly temporary, or a reference can change type? Bonus: path dependence in data models, where an additional requirement leads to a vastly different ideal data model that a company couldn't do because they made the old model. (This has got to exist, right? Business modeling is a big enough domain that this must exist. Maybe The Essence of Software touches on this? Man I feel bad I haven't read that yet.) Computer Science for Software Engineers Yes, I checked, this book does not exist (though maybe this is the same thing). I don't have any formal software education; everything I know was either self-taught or learned on the job. But it's way easier to learn software engineering that way than computer science. And I bet there's a lot of other engineers in the same boat. This book wouldn't have to be comprehensive or instructive: just enough about each topic to understand why it's an area of study and appreciate how research in it eventually finds its way into practice. MISU Patterns MISU, or "Make Illegal States Unrepresentable", is the idea of designing system invariants in the structure of your data. For example, if a Contact needs at least one of email or phone to be non-null, make it a sum type over EmailContact, PhoneContact, EmailPhoneContact (from this post). MISU is great. Most MISU in the wild look very different than that, though, because the concept of MISU is so broad there's lots of different ways to achieve it. And that means there are "patterns": smart constructors, product types, properly using sets, newtypes to some degree, etc. Some of them are specific to typed FP, while others can be used in even untyped languages. Someone oughta make a pattern book. My one request would be to not give them cutesy names. Do something like the Aarne–Thompson–Uther Index, where items are given names like "Recognition by manner of throwing cakes of different weights into faces of old uncles". Names can come later. The Tools of '25 Not something I'd read, but something to recommend to junior engineers. Starting out it's easy to think the only bit that matters is the language or framework and not realize the enormous amount of surrounding tooling you'll have to learn. This book would cover the basics of tools that enough developers will probably use at some point: git, VSCode, very basic Unix and bash, curl. Maybe the general concepts of tools that appear in every ecosystem, like package managers, build tools, task runners. That might be easier if we specialize this to one particular domain, like webdev or data science. Ideally the book would only have to be updated every five years or so. No LLM stuff because I don't expect the tooling will be stable through 2026, to say nothing of 2030. A History of Obsolete Optimizations Probably better as a really long blog series. Each chapter would be broken up into two parts: A deep dive into a brilliant, elegant, insightful historical optimization designed to work within the constraints of that era's computing technology What we started doing instead, once we had more compute/network/storage available. c.f. A Spellchecker Used to Be a Major Feat of Software Engineering. Bonus topics would be brilliance obsoleted by standardization (like what people did before git and json were universal), optimizations we do today that may not stand the test of time, and optimizations from the past that did. Sphinx Internals I need this. I've spent so much goddamn time digging around in Sphinx and docutils source code I'm gonna throw up. Systems Distributed Talk Today! Online premier's at noon central / 5 PM UTC, here! I'll be hanging out to answer questions and be awkward. You ever watch a recording of your own talk? It's real uncomfortable! In this case because it's a field on one of Volcano's supertypes. I guess schemas gotta follow LSP too ↩
I realize that for all I've talked about Logic for Programmers in this newsletter, I never once explained basic logical quantifiers. They're both simple and incredibly useful, so let's do that this week! Sets and quantifiers A set is a collection of unordered, unique elements. {1, 2, 3, …} is a set, as are "every programming language", "every programming language's Wikipedia page", and "every function ever defined in any programming language's standard library". You can put whatever you want in a set, with some very specific limitations to avoid certain paradoxes.2 Once we have a set, we can ask "is something true for all elements of the set" and "is something true for at least one element of the set?" IE, is it true that every programming language has a set collection type in the core language? We would write it like this: # all of them all l in ProgrammingLanguages: HasSetType(l) # at least one some l in ProgrammingLanguages: HasSetType(l) This is the notation I use in the book because it's easy to read, type, and search for. Mathematicians historically had a few different formats; the one I grew up with was ∀x ∈ set: P(x) to mean all x in set, and ∃ to mean some. I use these when writing for just myself, but find them confusing to programmers when communicating. "All" and "some" are respectively referred to as "universal" and "existential" quantifiers. Some cool properties We can simplify expressions with quantifiers, in the same way that we can simplify !(x && y) to !x || !y. First of all, quantifiers are commutative with themselves. some x: some y: P(x,y) is the same as some y: some x: P(x, y). For this reason we can write some x, y: P(x,y) as shorthand. We can even do this when quantifying over different sets, writing some x, x' in X, y in Y instead of some x, x' in X: some y in Y. We can not do this with "alternating quantifiers": all p in Person: some m in Person: Mother(m, p) says that every person has a mother. some m in Person: all p in Person: Mother(m, p) says that someone is every person's mother. Second, existentials distribute over || while universals distribute over &&. "There is some url which returns a 403 or 404" is the same as "there is some url which returns a 403 or some url that returns a 404", and "all PRs pass the linter and the test suites" is the same as "all PRs pass the linter and all PRs pass the test suites". Finally, some and all are duals: some x: P(x) == !(all x: !P(x)), and vice-versa. Intuitively: if some file is malicious, it's not true that all files are benign. All these rules together mean we can manipulate quantifiers almost as easily as we can manipulate regular booleans, putting them in whatever form is easiest to use in programming. Speaking of which, how do we use this in in programming? How we use this in programming First of all, people clearly have a need for directly using quantifiers in code. If we have something of the form: for x in list: if P(x): return true return false That's just some x in list: P(x). And this is a prevalent pattern, as you can see by using GitHub code search. It finds over 500k examples of this pattern in Python alone! That can be simplified via using the language's built-in quantifiers: the Python would be any(P(x) for x in list). (Note this is not quantifying over sets but iterables. But the idea translates cleanly enough.) More generally, quantifiers are a key way we express higher-level properties of software. What does it mean for a list to be sorted in ascending order? That all i, j in 0..<len(l): if i < j then l[i] <= l[j]. When should a ratchet test fail? When some f in functions - exceptions: Uses(f, bad_function). Should the image classifier work upside down? all i in images: classify(i) == classify(rotate(i, 180)). These are the properties we verify with tests and types and MISU and whatnot;1 it helps to be able to make them explicit! One cool use case that'll be in the book's next version: database invariants are universal statements over the set of all records, like all a in accounts: a.balance > 0. That's enforceable with a CHECK constraint. But what about something like all i, i' in intervals: NoOverlap(i, i')? That isn't covered by CHECK, since it spans two rows. Quantifier duality to the rescue! The invariant is equivalent to !(some i, i' in intervals: Overlap(i, i')), so is preserved if the query SELECT COUNT(*) FROM intervals CROSS JOIN intervals … returns 0 rows. This means we can test it via a database trigger.3 There are a lot more use cases for quantifiers, but this is enough to introduce the ideas! Next week's the one year anniversary of the book entering early access, so I'll be writing a bit about that experience and how the book changed. It's crazy how crude v0.1 was compared to the current version. MISU ("make illegal states unrepresentable") means using data representations that rule out invalid values. For example, if you have a location -> Optional(item) lookup and want to make sure that each item is in exactly one location, consider instead changing the map to item -> location. This is a means of implementing the property all i in item, l, l' in location: if ItemIn(i, l) && l != l' then !ItemIn(i, l'). ↩ Specifically, a set can't be an element of itself, which rules out constructing things like "the set of all sets" or "the set of sets that don't contain themselves". ↩ Though note that when you're inserting or updating an interval, you already have that row's fields in the trigger's NEW keyword. So you can just query !(some i in intervals: Overlap(new, i')), which is more efficient. ↩
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Reading my recent computing retrospective, I realised there was a big section missing: the people in my life that made an impact and helped shape my career. Outside my immediate family, one person made an outsized contribution, and I’m fairly certain that without his influence my life would have taken a very different path. The fact that I’m still here in 2026, still writing code and being fortunate enough to have a career in something I love is testament to him. So I’d like to take a few moments to talk about my old secondary school teacher, George Dryden. Denied Back in 1995, I had a problem. I knew I wanted to study computing at university and build a career out of my passion, but there was a snag. For those unfamiliar with the UK schooling system, when you’re 15-16 you take a set of GCSE exams in a broad range of subjects. After that, you pick around 3 subjects to really focus on over a period of 2 years. These are called A Levels, and they are a big step up and are meant to prepare you for a degree-level course at university. Admission to university is also governed by these results - if you want to study computing, you’re going to need a computing A-Level, and most universities will only accept you (or “make an offer”) if you achieve a certain grade. And whilst I had taken computing at a GCSE level, my school did not offer a computing A-Level course. I instead had to settle on “Design & Technology”, which just didn’t inspire me. Instead of working on my portfolio and projects, I spent most of my time daydreaming and writing code on the Acorn Archimedes computers that were the staple of every 90s UK school. No disrespect to the teachers - they were all awesome - but it just wasn’t for me. I was miserable, and by the end of my first year, I was well on my way to failing outright with my entire future plans seemingly going up in smoke. Someone noticed That’s when George stepped in. He’d taught me computing right the way through my GCSEs, and with no A-Level course on offer, that was officially where his involvement was supposed to have ended. It didn’t. He had noticed my constant presence in the computing labs - before and after school, during lunch breaks, free “study” periods - working on some little pet project or digging into RISC OS internals. I remember him as warm, with a wicked, dry sense of humour, and a refreshingly spiky attitude to authority - I always got the sense he’d worked out for himself which rules were worth taking seriously and which ones weren’t. And he always had time for me. I spent years pestering him with questions that had nothing to do with anything on the syllabus, and he’d always find a way to answer them that actually made sense. He was just as supportive of my odd little obsessions. At one point I’d got deep into the BBS scene, which I thought was the coolest thing ever, and decided what the school really needed was an internal BBS running on its own network. So I wrote one. It was deeply cringeworthy, obviously - but George helped me put posters up around the school advertising it, and even gave it a mention in assembly one morning. I think about five people in total ever checked it out. It didn’t matter: a teacher had stood up in front of the entire school and treated my weird little project like it was worth something, and that was a hugely validating moment for me. Off the books He recognised the passion, and eventually he made a suggestion: What if I quit the Design and Technology course, and instead attempt the A-level course myself? Personally, I also suspect he was enjoying himself. There was some internal school politics behind why computing wasn’t offered at A-Level in the first place - I never knew the details - and I think the prospect of one of his students simply going out and getting the qualification anyway appealed to him on two separate levels. It would get me where I wanted to go, and it would wind up exactly the right people. It wouldn’t be easy, he warned. The school would be against it, plus it was a two-year course which I’d have to cram into one year. I’d have to do it all myself - studying, lesson planning, coursework - he couldn’t help me in an official capacity, but he said he’d advocate for me and help where he could. If I had assignments, he’d send them off to be graded and would give feedback in his own time. He’d enter me in for the exams and also gave me a set of keys to the computer lab so I could use it whenever I needed. It was the first time anybody outside my own family had really shown faith in my abilities and encouraged me to take a stand. It was a pivotal moment for me - I realised if I wanted something badly enough I would have to fight for it, but I could still make it happen. I didn’t have to take “NO” for an answer - a lesson I think I picked up from watching him as much as from anything he ever actually said to me. After a few weeks of dithering, I took the jump. I remember a few awkward meetings with the school administration but thanks to his behind-the-scenes work, I was soon following my dream. An intense year And yes, it was bloody hard work. I had to condense an entire two year course into under a year, be disciplined enough to produce my own study plan, and be critical enough of my own shortcomings that I could focus my study where it was needed. I pretty much lived and breathed it for months straight and was more-or-less a permanent fixture in the labs or school library poring over my course books. I’d make lists of questions and chat to George over lunch, and he’d provide guidance and encouragement. It was a lonely way to learn with no classmates to compare notes with, no lessons to turn up to, and right up until the end I had no real idea whether any of it was good enough - but bit by bit, it started to feel like something I could actually pull off. And sure enough, in the late spring of 1996, I sat down in an exam hall with my fellow students, the only one with an A-Level computing question paper in front of me. The final exam went by in a blur - I can only remember a few of the questions now (and a peculiar obsession with the Pascal language) - but I do remember the euphoria as the invigilator called “time’s up, pens down, close your papers NOW”. I had done it. A few nerve-wracking months later, my Mum drove me into school to pick up my results. I ripped open the envelope and saw it - I’d passed with an A grade! I literally ran up the stairs to George’s office next to the computing labs to thank him personally. I’d taken my camera into school to take a few last photos for memory’s sake and snapped this photo of him before I walked out the school gates for the last time: A different path Because of him, I managed to get into my university of choice, studying computing with a focus on networks. Because of that, I landed my first job working as a “webmaster”, and my career since has been one of the highlights of my life. All these years later, it’s a real privilege to be able to get up each morning and actively look forward to working in an industry I love. Without George stepping up for me and encouraging me to believe in myself, none of that would have happened. I wouldn’t have had the career I have, and I wouldn’t be where I am now. I met my wife when we both worked at a software company - she sat at the desk behind me - so even my home and family life can be traced back to that spring of 1996. And the A-Level itself was only half of what I took away from that year. The qualification opened the door to university, but the lesson that came with it was every bit as important: that a “no” isn’t always the end of it, and that sometimes the answer can be argued with. I’m so proud of what I managed to achieve all those years ago, and even more thankful to have had someone like George in my life to put me on the right track. Mr. Dryden I did see him again after I left. He drank in one of my local pubs - a pub I’d been going to for a good while before I was technically old enough to be in it - and I’d say hello if I spotted him in there, mostly in the months before I moved away to university. After that it was only a handful of times. For years I’d find myself scanning the room whenever I was back home and in for a pint, half expecting him to be at the bar. At some point I stopped seeing him altogether and eventually moved across the country. The trouble was I never really knew how to talk to him outside of school. He was always Mr. Dryden, or just “Sir”, I don’t think I ever once called him George to his face! I was (and still am if I’m honest) fairly socially awkward, and I never worked out how to phrase the thing I actually wanted to say: that he had changed the entire direction of my life, and I wasn’t sure he knew it. So instead I’d say hello, and ask how he was, talk about nothing much, and go back to my friends. Epilogue Sadly, 3 years ago now, I opened the latest issue of my old school alumni newsletter to read that he’d passed away. The photo at the start of this article was taken from his obituary article and I read that he’d had a long illness and had suffered from dementia at the end. I did write to him years ago by email - I don’t know if he ever got it, or was in any capacity to understand what he’d done for me, but I hope so. There’s an old saying by one of my favourite authors (Terry Pratchett) that “no one is finally dead until the ripples they cause in the world die away”. In one of his books, a character keeps the memory of his son alive by passing his name along a series of telegraph towers. It’s in that spirit that I’m writing this post - I debated it for many years as it’s very personal to me and I also have no contact with any of George’s family so I have no idea what they would make of it all. But even though it’s 30+ years ago now, I will never forget him or what he did for me - and at least now, if someone searches his name it’ll be recorded here for as long as I’m alive and running this site. Thank you, Sir. George Dryden 1942-2023
Let’s step inside the kernel and understand how it implements copy-on-write and what are its implications for the performance of user-space systems
Yesterday, I received this email as a response to You Can't Vibe Code Love. It's such a remarkable and powerful statement that I asked permission to share it here, in its entirety, with personal information redacted: Hey Jeff, Hope you and your family are doing well.
A frustrated Reddit post about being a condom between an AI and production made the rounds in our team. Here is why I think the opposite is true and what it means for how we review code, plan work and think.
And here we are three years after I wrote about the Google Pixel Fold being announced, followed now with the announcement of the iPhone Duo...(I have questions about the naming by the way). Four years ago I was talking about web primitives in the platform for the Surface Duo. My how time flies. There are CSS media features, a Viewport Segments API, a Device Posture API but Chromium based browsers are the only ones currently supporting these things. I haven't been able to find any signal yet on whether Safari will support these things in the web platform as the developer docs focus on application development. If you're interested in trying out the platform features, you can emulate the Surface Duo and Galaxy Z Fold in the developer tools. And if you're thinking, do I really have to have my website adapt to two screens? The answer is no. Adding a design to an application or dual screen makes sense if you have an experience that has two simulataneous contexts that are useful e.g. a list of email messages/inbox on one screen, an open message, email thread or email composer on the other. Here's one of my talks from 2022 if you're interested in learning more about what's available in the browser for dual screen/foldable devices. Happy building :)