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button table { margin: 0; } .fa-arrow-left::before {content:"←"} Bad code <button type="button" onclick="window.open('https://example.com/other-page')"> <table> <tbody> <tr> <td> <i class="fa fa-arrow-left" aria-hidden="true"></i> </td> <td align="left">Back</td> </tr> </tbody> </table> </button> Back Issues and how to fix them The HTML isn't valid because the table element isn't allowed as a child of the button element. Based on the content categories listed on MDN, the table element qualifies as flow content and can only be placed inside an element that expects flow content. The button element, on the other hand, expects phrasing content, not flow content. The semantic information of the table doesn't cause any issues because the button's content is presentational See Buttons Role on W3C, Presentational Children. Keep it simple and structure the button element using CSS, such as Flexbox. Instead of using tables to structure the button element, use phrasing content elements, such as span, img, or SVG. Good code <button type="button" onclick="alert('Hello World!')"> Back </button> Resources <button> on MDN <table> on MDN Content categories on MDN Buttons Role on W3C <button> on W3Schools <table> on W3Schools Presentational Children
by Rian Rietveld It's a common pattern to use a logo in the header as a link to the homepage. Fun fact: the alt text of the image inside a link, will be added to the link text. The problem with linking a logo is that it serves 2 purposes: a logo, that tells you which site you are visiting; a link, that leads to the homepage. So add both that info in the alt text. Explain what's on the image and where the link leads to: "Site name logo, to the homepage". Note: Start the alt text with the visible text, then the link will be easier to target for people using voice recognition software. Let's take as example the logo of my home town Leidschendam-Voorburg. In code (simplified): <a href="/"> <img alt="Leidschendam-Voorburg logo, to the homepage" src="logo-lv.svg" /> </a> Generated HTML: VoiceOver in Safari will announce this as: All info is there. There is an advantage of using the alt text instead of an aria-label solution. When the connection is slow, the alt text will show up before the image does and already informs all users of the site name and link destination. It's quite robust. Discussion Do I need the word logo? Isn't that redundant, like the word image or picture? Yes, in this case the fact that this is a logo tells important info. Not only for blind users, but for all screenreader users. If you are visually impaired but not totally blind, you may see the image vaguely. With the addition of the word logo, you also know what the image is. The site name is required, but the logo gives extra context. Isn't this a violation of 2.5.3 Label in Name? No, the visible name is in the alt text, which becomes the accessible name of the link. Adding extra context to the link is common practice. Compare this with the notorious "Read more" link in a card. A common pattern is to use a sr-only CSS class (or equivalent) with additional text: <a href="url">Read more<span class="sr-only"> about cute kitten</span></a> . You see Read more. You hear Read more about cute kitten. In our case: You see the site name and logo; the visual position tells the link destination. You hear the site name, the fact it's a logo and the link destination. The whole visible text should be in the accessible name, but extra information, like the meaning of the image and link destination can be added for context. That way the purpose of the link is explained. Why didn't you use an aria-label? Of course there are other and also valid solutions. By using plain simple HTML I want to honor the first rule of ARIA: If you can use a native HTML element or attribute with the semantics and behavior you require already built in, instead of re-purposing an element and adding an ARIA role, state or property to make it accessible, then do so. Happy Holidays!
Bad code <button type="button" onclick="window.open('https://example.com/other-page')">Link target description</button> Issues and how to fix them A button opening a link will be unexpected behavior for screen reader users. No matter how it is styled. Links disguised as buttons won’t show up in the link list of a site in assistive technologies. Use links for navigation to other pages or sections, and buttons for actions performed on the current page or within the application. Good code <a href="https://example.com/other-page">Link target description</a> Resources ` on MDN](https://developer.mozilla.org/en-US/docs/Web/HTML/Element/a) - [`` on MDN](https://developer.mozilla.org/en-US/docs/Web/HTML/Element/button) - [Buttons vs. Links by Eric Eggert](https://yatil.net/blog/buttons-vs-links)
The good intentions were there but in the HTML and Accessibility world, less is sometimes more. Bad code <label for="textinput">First name</label> <input type="text" id="textinput" aria-label="First name" placeholder="First name" title="First name"> Issues and how to fix them The aria-label, placeholder, and title attributes all provide the same informaton ("First name"), leading to the screenreader reading the same text multiple times. The aria-label is unnecessary since the input is already correctly labeled by the <label> element. <label> elements should be preferred to aria-label since they are also visible to sighted users. The title attribute is not needed here, as the label and placeholder already convey the necessary information. Using title in this context adds unnecessary complexity. The placeholder text should provide a hint / example to the user what kind of input is expected, it should not act as a label or contain the same content. Good code <label for="textinput">First name</label> <input type="text" id="textinput"> Resources <label> on MDN aria-label on MDN placeholder on MDN title on MDN
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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 :)
