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Last year I wrote about using static websites for tiny archives. The idea is that I create tiny websites to store and describe my digital collections. There are several reasons I like this approach: HTML is flexible and lets me display data in a variety of ways; it’s likely to remain readable for a long time; it lets me add more context than a folder full of files. I’m converting more and more of my local data to be stored in static websites – paperwork I’ve scanned, screenshots I’ve taken, and web pages I’ve bookmarked. I really like this approach. I got a lot of positive feedback, but the most common reply was “please share some source code”. People wanted to see examples of the HTML and JavaScript I was using I deliberately omitted any code from the original post, because I wanted to focus on the concept, not the detail. I was trying to persuade you that static websites are a good idea for storing small archives and data sets, and I didn’t want to get distracted by the...
3 days ago

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More from alexwlchan

It’s cool to care

I’m sitting in a small coffee shop in Brooklyn. I have a warm drink, and it’s just started to snow outside. I’m visiting New York to see Operation Mincemeat on Broadway – I was at the dress rehearsal yesterday, and I’ll be at the opening preview tonight. I’ve seen this show more times than I care to count, and I hope US theater-goers love it as much as Brits. The people who make the show will tell you that it’s about a bunch of misfits who thought they could do something ridiculous, who had the audacity to believe in something unlikely. That’s certainly one way to see it. The musical tells the true story of a group of British spies who tried to fool Hitler with a dead body, fake papers, and an outrageous plan that could easily have failed. Decades later, the show’s creators would mirror that same spirit of unlikely ambition. Four friends, armed with their creativity, determination, and a wardrobe full of hats, created a new musical in a small London theatre. And after a series of transfers, they’re about to open the show under the bright lights of Broadway. But when I watch the show, I see a story about friendship. It’s about how we need our friends to help us, to inspire us, to push us to be the best versions of ourselves. I see the swaggering leader who needs a team to help him truly achieve. The nervous scientist who stands up for himself with the support of his friends. The enthusiastic secretary who learns wisdom and resilience from her elder. And so, I suppose, it’s fitting that I’m not in New York on my own. I’m here with friends – dozens of wonderful people who I met through this ridiculous show. At first, I was just an audience member. I sat in my seat, I watched the show, and I laughed and cried with equal measure. After the show, I waited at stage door to thank the cast. Then I came to see the show a second time. And a third. And a fourth. After a few trips, I started to see familiar faces waiting with me at stage door. So before the cast came out, we started chatting. Those conversations became a Twitter community, then a Discord, then a WhatsApp. We swapped fan art, merch, and stories of our favourite moments. We went to other shows together, and we hung out outside the theatre. I spent New Year’s Eve with a few of these friends, sitting on somebody’s floor and laughing about a bowl of limes like it was the funniest thing in the world. And now we’re together in New York. Meeting this kind, funny, and creative group of people might seem as unlikely as the premise of Mincemeat itself. But I believed it was possible, and here we are. I feel so lucky to have met these people, to take this ridiculous trip, to share these precious days with them. I know what a privilege this is – the time, the money, the ability to say let’s do this and make it happen. How many people can gather a dozen friends for even a single evening, let alone a trip halfway round the world? You might think it’s silly to travel this far for a theatre show, especially one we’ve seen plenty of times in London. Some people would never see the same show twice, and most of us are comfortably into double or triple-figures. Whenever somebody asks why, I don’t have a good answer. Because it’s fun? Because it’s moving? Because I enjoy it? I feel the need to justify it, as if there’s some logical reason that will make all of this okay. But maybe I don’t have to. Maybe joy doesn’t need justification. A theatre show doesn’t happen without people who care. Neither does a friendship. So much of our culture tells us that it’s not cool to care. It’s better to be detached, dismissive, disinterested. Enthusiasm is cringe. Sincerity is weakness. I’ve certainly felt that pressure – the urge to play it cool, to pretend I’m above it all. To act as if I only enjoy something a “normal” amount. Well, fuck that. I don’t know where the drive to be detached comes from. Maybe it’s to protect ourselves, a way to guard against disappointment. Maybe it’s to seem sophisticated, as if having passions makes us childish or less mature. Or perhaps it’s about control – if we stay detached, we never have to depend on others, we never have to trust in something bigger than ourselves. Being detached means you can’t get hurt – but you’ll also miss out on so much joy. I’m a big fan of being a big fan of things. So many of the best things in my life have come from caring, from letting myself be involved, from finding people who are a big fan of the same things as me. If I pretended not to care, I wouldn’t have any of that. Caring – deeply, foolishly, vulnerably – is how I connect with people. My friends and I care about this show, we care about each other, and we care about our joy. That care and love for each other is what brought us together, and without it we wouldn’t be here in this city. I know this is a once-in-a-lifetime trip. So many stars had to align – for us to meet, for the show we love to be successful, for us to be able to travel together. But if we didn’t care, none of those stars would have aligned. I know so many other friends who would have loved to be here but can’t be, for all kinds of reasons. Their absence isn’t for lack of caring, and they want the show to do well whether or not they’re here. I know they care, and that’s the important thing. To butcher Tennyson: I think it’s better to care about something you cannot affect, than to care about nothing at all. In a world that’s full of cynicism and spite and hatred, I feel that now more than ever. I’d recommend you go to the show if you haven’t already, but that’s not really the point of this post. Maybe you’ve already seen Operation Mincemeat, and it wasn’t for you. Maybe you’re not a theatre kid. Maybe you aren’t into musicals, or history, or war stories. That’s okay. I don’t mind if you care about different things to me. (Imagine how boring the world would be if we all cared about the same things!) But I want you to care about something. I want you to find it, find people who care about it too, and hold on to them. Because right now, in this city, with these people, at this show? I’m so glad I did. And I hope you find that sort of happiness too. Some of the people who made this trip special. Photo by Chloe, and taken from her Twitter. Timing note: I wrote this on February 15th, but I delayed posting it because I didn’t want to highlight the fact I was away from home. [If the formatting of this post looks odd in your feed reader, visit the original article]

yesterday 4 votes
Cosmetic updates to this site

As well as changing the way I organise my writing, last year I made some cosmetic improvements to this site. I design everything on this site myself, and I write the CSS by hand – I don’t use any third-party styles or frameworks. I don’t have any design training, and I don’t do design professionally, so I use this site as a place to learn and practice my design skills. It’s a continual work-in-progress, but I’d like to think it’s getting better over time. I design this site for readers. I write long, text-heavy posts with the occasional illustration or diagram, so I want something that will be comfortable to read and look good on a wide variety of browsers and devices. I get a lot of that “for free” by using semantic HTML and the default styles – most of my CSS is just cosmetic. Let’s go through some of the changes. Cleaning up the link styles This is what links used to look like: Every page has a tint colour, and then I was deriving different shades to style different links – a darker shade for visited links, a lighter shade for visited links in dark mode, and a background that appears on hover. I’m generating these new colours programatically, and I was so proud of getting that code working that I didn’t stop to think whether it was a good idea. In hindsight, I see several issues. The tint colour is meant to give the page a consistent visual appearance, but the different shades diluted that effect. I don’t think their meaning was especially obvious. How many readers ever worked it out? And the hover styles are actively unhelpful – just as you hover over a link you’re interested in, I’m making it harder to read! (At least in light mode – in dark mode, the hover style is barely legible.) One thing I noticed is that for certain tint colours, the “visited” colour I generated was barely distinguishable from the text colour. So I decided to lean into that in the new link styles: visited links are now the same colour as regular text. This new set of styles feels more coherent. I’m only using one shade of the tint colour, and I think the meaning is a bit clearer – only new-to-you links will get the pop of colour to stand out from the rest of the text. I’m happy to rely on underlines for the links you’ve already visited. And when you hover, the thick underline means you can see where you are, but the link text remains readable. Swapping out the font I swapped out the font, replacing Georgia with Charter. The difference is subtle, so I’d be surprised if anyone noticed: I’ve always used web safe fonts for this site – the fonts that are built into web browsers, and don’t need to be downloaded first. I’ve played with custom fonts from time to time, but there’s no font I like more enough to justify the hassle of loading a custom font. I still like Georgia, but I felt it was showing its age – it was designed in 1993 to look good on low-resolution screens, but looks a little chunky on modern displays. I think Charter looks nicer on high-resolution screens, but if you don’t have it installed then I fall back to Georgia. Making all the roundrects consistent I use a lot of rounded rectangles for components on this site, including article cards, blockquotes, and code blocks. For a long time they had similar but not identical styles, because I designed them all at different times. There were weird inconsistencies. For example, why does one roundrect have a 2px border, but another one is 3px? These are small details that nobody will ever notice directly, but undermine the sense of visual together-ness. I’ve done a complete overhaul of these styles, to make everything look more consistent. I’m leaning heavily on CSS variables, a relatively new CSS feature that I’ve really come to like. Variables make it much easier to use consistent values in different rules. I also tweaked the appearance: I’ve removed another two shades of the tint colour. (Yes, those shades were different from the ones used in links.) Colour draws your attention, so I’m trying to use it more carefully. A link says “click here”. A heading says “start here”. What does a blockquote or code snippet say? It’s just part of the text, so it shouldn’t be grabbing your attention. I think the neutral background also makes the syntax highlighting easier to read, because the tint colour isn’t clashing with the code colours. I could probably consolidate the shades of grey I’m using, but that’s a task for another day. I also removed the left indent on blockquotes and code blocks – I think it looks nicer to have a flush left edge for everything, and it means you can read more text on mobile screens. (That’s where I really felt the issues with the old design.) What’s next? By tidying up the design and reducing the number of unique elements, I’ve got a bit of room to add something new. For a while now I’ve wanted a place at the bottom of posts for common actions, or links to related and follow-up posts. As I do more and more long-form, reflective writing, I want to be able to say “if you liked this, you should read this too”. I want something that catches your eye, but doesn’t distract from the article you’re already reading. Louie Mantia has a version of this that I quite like: I’ve held off designing this because the existing pages felt too busy, but now I feel like I have space to add this – there aren’t as many clashing colours and components to compete for your attention. I’m still sketching out designs – my current idea is my rounded rectangle blocks, but with a coloured border instead of a subtle grey, but when I did a prototype, I feel like it’s missing something. I need to try a few more ideas. Watch this space! [If the formatting of this post looks odd in your feed reader, visit the original article]

2 days ago 4 votes
Good embedded toots

In my previous post, there was a first for this site: I embedded a post from Mastodon. Like many social media services, Mastodon has built-in support for embedding posts. If you’re looking at a public post, you can get a snippet of HTML and JavaScript to show that post in another web page. You add that snippet to your page, and when somebody opens it, the snippet will appear as a Mastodon post. It’s quick, easy, and not how I did it. When I want to embed post from social media sites, I don’t use the native embed. Instead, I write my own HTML and CSS to mimic their appearance, and it looks pretty close to the real thing. Here’s a comparison of a native/custom Mastodon embed – they’re not exactly the same, but close enough that you probably wouldn’t notice unless you were looking: This is something I’ve been doing for over a decade – I got the original idea from Dr Drang, who does something similar for tweets. (He wrote that post in 2012, and it highlights the value of resilient embeds – two of the four tweets he’s quoted are no longer available. The post would be harder to read if you couldn’t see the tweets he was quoting and replying to.) Many years ago, I copied Dr Drang’s code, created my own variant, and I used that for embedding tweets. I’ve now created another variant that works for Mastodon toots, and I have unfinished branches with more variants for Instagram and Bluesky. Why do I prefer my embeds? There are several reasons: My embeds are smaller and faster. Mastodon posts are short, and yet the native embed downloads nearly a megabyte of data to display 88 words of text – including the audio file boop.mp3, for reasons I can’t imagine. Meanwhile my custom embed requires just 35KB. I try to keep this site pretty lean and lightweight – the average size of an HTML page is just 13KB. Adding a megabyte of data for an embed would undo all that hard work. My embeds don’t require any JavaScript, third-party or otherwise. You don’t need JS to show static content, and adding third-party code introduces a privacy risk for my readers. I’m not completely opposed to JavaScript, but it’s massively overused on the modern web. It’s useful for interactive elements, but I really don’t need it on this content-only site. My embeds are more resilient. Because I have no dependency on the Mastodon server, it doesn’t matter if the server goes away or the toot is deleted. My page will be unaffected. This is why many people include social media posts as images, or copy the text into a blockquote. We’re in a time of increased tumult and instability for social media platforms, but their woes aren’t going to leave holes in my posts. My embeds support dark mode. A few years ago I added dark mode to this site. It’s not something I use myself, but I know it’s important to a lot of people and it was a fun little project. The native Mastodon embeds always show toots in light mode, whereas my embeds will adapt to your preference: On the other hand, the argument in favour of native embeds is that they need minimal effort, they should always work, and they support more features. My custom embeds can’t do pictures, or link previews, or quote toots, because I’ve never embedded a toot that uses those. If/when I do, I’ll have to write the code to support that. I’ll find that fun, but most people would find that annoying. I don’t know what accessibility is like for native embeds. My custom embeds only use a handful of semantic HTML elements, so they get a lot of good behaviour “by default from the browser. I hope native embeds are good for accessibility, but I don’t know enough to say whether my approach is better or worse in that regard. How does it work? I have some HTML and CSS that render the embedded toot. Here’s the entirety of the HTML – I’ve tweaked this ever so slightly for readability, but the key parts are there. <blockquote class="mastodon-embed"> <div class="header"> <a class="name_header" href="https://code4lib.social/@linguistory"> <img class="avatar" src="linguistory.jpg" alt=""> <div class="name"> <span class="display_name">James Truitt (he/him)</span> <span class="account_name">@linguistory@code4lib.social</span> </div> </a> <img class="mastodon_logo" src="logo.svg"> </div> <p class="text"> Do any <a href="https://code4lib.social/tags/digipres">#digipres</a> folks happen to have a handy repo of small invalid bags for testing purposes? <br> <br> I'm trying to automate our ingest process, and want to make sure I'm accounting for as many broken expectations as possible. </p> <p class="meta"> <a href="https://code4lib.social/@linguistory/113924700205617006">31 Jan 2025 at 19:49</a> </p> </blockquote> The CSS styles are a bit long to include here, but you can see them by reading the source code of my demo page. I’m using CSS grid layout to lay out the different components, but otherwise nothing too complicated. I designed my custom embed by creating two HTML files: one with a native embed, and one with my custom embed. I used the developer tools to get key values from the native embed, like colours and spacing, then I kept adding styles to my custom embed until it looked about right. When I want to embed a toot now, I write a line like: {% mastodon https://code4lib.social/@linguistory/113924700205617006 %} This calls a Jekyll plugin that replaces this line with an embedded toot. This code is very scrappy and poorly documented, so it may not be especially easy to adapt to your own site – if you want to do this, start from the HTML and CSS instead. Like everything on this site, my Mastodon embeds are a work-in-progress and not something that everybody should copy. The built-in embeds are quick, easy, and convenient, and they’re what most people should use. But what I like about having my own website is that when I do want to spend an unreasonable amount of effort on something, and do it just because I think it’s fun, I can do that, and nobody can stop me. [If the formatting of this post looks odd in your feed reader, visit the original article]

a week ago 11 votes
Unexpected errors in the BagIt area

Last week, James Truitt asked a question on Mastodon: James Truitt (he/him) @linguistory@code4lib.social Mastodon #digipres folks happen to have a handy repo of small invalid bags for testing purposes? I'm trying to automate our ingest process, and want to make sure I'm accounting for as many broken expectations as possible. Jan 31, 2025 at 07:49 PM The “bags” he’s referring to are BagIt bags. BagIt is an open format developed by the Library of Congress for packaging digital files. Bags include manifests and checksums that describe their contents, and they’re often used by libraries and archives to organise files before transfering them to permanent storage. Although I don’t use BagIt any more, I spent a lot of time working with it when I was a software developer at Wellcome Collection. We used BagIt as the packaging format for files saved to our cloud storage service, and we built a microservice very similar to what James is describing. The “bag verifier” would look for broken bags, and reject them before they were copied to long-term storage. I wrote a lot of bag verifier test cases to confirm that it would spot invalid or broken bags, and that it would give a useful error message when it did. All of the code for Wellcome’s storage service is shared on GitHub under an MIT license, including the bag verifier tests. They’re wrapped in a Scala test framework that might not be the easiest thing to read, so I’m going to describe the test cases in a more human-friendly way. Before diving into specific examples, it’s worth remembering: context is king. BagIt is described by RFC 8493, and you could create invalid bags by doing a line-by-line reading and deliberately ignoring every “MUST” or “SHOULD” but I wouldn’t recommend this aproach. You’d get a long list of test cases, but you’d be overwhelmed by examples, and you might miss specific requirements for your system. The BagIt RFC is written for the most general case, but if you’re actually building a storage service, you’ll have more concrete requirements and context. It’s helpful to look at that context, and how it affects the data you want to store. Who’s creating the bags? How will they name files? Where are you going to store bags? How do bags fit into your wider systems? And so on. Understanding your context will allow you to skip verification steps that you don’t need, and to add verification steps that are important to you. I doubt any two systems implement the exact same set of checks, because every system has different context. Here are examples of potential validation issues drawn from the BagIt specification and my real-world experience. You won’t need to check for everything on this list, and this list isn’t exhaustive – but it should help you think about bag validation in your own context. The Bag Declaration bagit.txt This file declares that this is a BagIt bag, and the version of BagIt you’re using (RFC 8493 §2.1.1). It looks the same in almost every bag, for example: BagIt-Version: 1.0 Tag-File-Character-Encoding: UTF-8 This tightly prescribed format means it can only be invalid in a few ways: What if the bag doesn’t have a bag declaration? It’s a required element of every BagIt bag; it has to be there. What if the bag declaration is the wrong format? It should contain exactly two lines: a version number and a character encoding, in that order. What if the bag declaration has an unexpected version number? If you see a BagIt version that you’ve not seen before, the bag might have a different structure than what you expect. The Payload Files and Payload Manifest The payload files are the actual content you want to save and preserve. They get saved in the payload directory data/ (RFC 8493 §2.1.2), and there’s a payload manifest manifest-algorithm.txt that lists them, along with their checksums (RFC 8493 §2.1.3). Here’s an example of a payload manifest with MD5 checksums: 37d0b74d5300cf839f706f70590194c3 data/waterfall.jpg This tells us that the bag contains a single file data/waterfall.jpg, and it has the MD5 checksum 37d0…. These checksums can be used to verify that the files have transferred correctly, and haven’t been corrupted in the process. There are lots of ways a payload manifest could be invalid: What if the bag doesn’t have a payload manifest? Every BagIt bag must have at least one Payload Manifest file. What if the payload manifest is the wrong format? These files have a prescribed format – one file per line, with a checksum and file path. What if the payload manifest refers to a file that isn’t in the bag? Either one of the files in the bag has been deleted, or the manifest has an erroneous entry. What if the bag has a file that isn’t listed in the payload manifest? The manifest should be a complete listing of all the payload files in the bag. If the bag has a file which isn’t in the payload manifest, either that file isn’t meant to be there, or the manifest is missing an entry. Checking for unlisted files is how I spotted unwanted .DS_Store and Thumbs.db files. What if the checksum in the payload manifest doesn’t match the checksum of the file? Either the file has been corrupted, or the checksum is incorrect. What if there are payload files outside the data/ directory? All the payload files should be stored in data/. Anything outside that is an error. What if there are duplicate entries in the payload manifest? Every payload file must be listed exactly once in the manifest. This avoids ambiguity – suppose a file is listed twice, with two different checksums. Is the bag valid if one of those checksums is correct? Requiring unique entries avoids this sort of issue. What if the payload directory is empty? This is perfectly acceptable in the BagIt RFC, but it may not be what you want. If you know that you will always be sending bags that contain files, you should flag empty payload directories as an error. What if the payload manifest contains paths outside data/, or relative paths that try to escape the bag? (e.g. ../file.txt) Now we’re into “malicious bag” territory – a bag uploaded by somebody who’s trying to compromise your ingest pipeline. Any such bags should be treated with suspicion and rejected. If you’re concerned about malicious bags, you need a more thorough test suite to catch other shenanigans. We never went this far at Wellcome Collection, because we didn’t ingest bags from arbitrary sources. The bags only came from internal systems, and our verification was mainly about spotting bugs in those systems, not defending against malicious actors. A bag can contain multiple payload manifests – for example, it might contain both MD5 and SHA1 checksums. Every payload manifest must be valid for the overall bag to be valid. Payload filenames There are lots of gotchas around filenames and paths. It’s a complicated problem, and I definitely don’t understand all of it. It’s worth understanding the filename rules of any filesystem where you will be storing bags. For example, Azure Blob Storage has a number of rules around how you can name files, and Amazon S3 has different rules. We stored files in both at Wellcome Collection, and so the storage service had to enforce the superset of these rules. I’ve listed some edge cases of filenames you might want to consider, but it’s not a comlpete list. There are lots of ways that unexpected filenames could cause you issues, but whether you care depends on the source of your bags. If you control the bags and you know you’re not going to include any weird filenames, you can probably skip most of these. We only checked for one of these conditions at Wellcome Collection, because we had a pre-ingest step that normalised filenames. It converted filenames to ASCII, and saved a mapping between original and normalised filename in the bag. However, the normalisation was only designed for one filesystem, and produced filenames with trailing dots that were still disallowed in Azure Blob. What if a filename is too long? Some systems have a maximum path length, and an excessively deep directory structure or long filename could cause issues. What if a filename contains special characters? Spaces, emoji, or special characters (\, :, *, etc.) can cause problems for some tools. You should also think about characters that need to be URL-encoded. What if a filename has trailing spaces or dots? Some filesystems can’t support filenames ending in a dot or a space. What happens if your bag contains such a file, and you try to save it to the filesystem? This caused us issues at Wellcome Collection. We initially stored bags just in Amazon S3, which is happy to take filenames with a trailing dot – then we added backups to Azure Blob, which doesn’t. One of the bags we’d stored in Amazon S3 had a trailing dot in the filename, and caused us headaches when we tried to copy it to Azure. What if a filename contains a mix of path separators? The payload manifest uses a forward slash (/) as a path separator. If you have a filename with an alternative path separator, it might behave differently on different systems. For example, consider the payload file a\b\c. This would be a single file on macOS or Linux, but it would be nested inside two folders on Windows. What if the filenames are a mix of uppercase and lowercase characters? Some fileystems are case-sensitive, others aren’t. This can cause issues when you move bags between systems. For example, suppose a bag contains two different files Macrodata.txt and macrodata.txt. When you save that bag on a case-insensitive filesystem, only one file will be saved. What if the same filename appears twice with different Unicode normalisations? This is similar to filenames which only differ in upper/lowercase. They might be treated as two files on one filesystem, but collapsed into one file on another. The classic example is the word “café”: this can be encoded as caf\xc3\xa9 (UTF-8 encoded é) or cafe\xcc\x81 (e + combining acute accent). What if a filename contains a directory reference? A directory reference is /./ (current directory) or /../ (parent directory). It’s used on both Unix and Windows-like systems, and it’s another case of two filenames that look different but can resolve to the same path. For example: a/b, a/./b and a/subdir/../b all resolve to the same path under these rules. This can cause particular issues if you’re moving between local filesystems and cloud storage. Local filesystems treat filenames as hierarchical paths, where cloud storage like Amazon S3 often treats them as opaque strings. This can cause issues if you try to copy files from cloud storage to a local system – if you’re not careful, you could lose files in the process. The Tag Manifest tagmanifest-algorithm.txt Similar to the payload manifest, the tag manifest lists the tag files and their checksums. A “tag file” is the BagIt term for any metadata file that isn’t part of the payload (RFC 8493 §2.2.1). Unlike the payload manifest, the tag manifest is optional. A bag without a tag manifest can still be a valid bag. If the tag manifest is present, then many of the ways that a payload manifest can invalidate a bag – malformed contents, unreferenced files, or incorrect checksums – can also apply to tag manifests. There are some additional things to consider: What if a tag manifest lists payload files? The tag manifest lists tag files; the payload manifest lists payload files in the data/ directory. A tag manifest that lists files in the data/ directory is incorrect. What if the bag has a file that isn’t listed in either manifest? Every file in a bag (except the tag manifests) should be listed in either a payload or a tag manifest. A file that appears in neither could mean an unexpected file, or a missing manifest entry. Although the tag manifest is optional in the BagIt spec, at Wellcome Collection we made it a required file. Every bag had to have at least one tag manifest file, or our storage service would refuse to ingest it. The Bag Metadata bag-info.txt This is an optional metadata file that describes the bag and its contents (RFC 8493 §2.2.2). It’s a list of metadata elements, as simple label-value pairs, one per line. Here’s an example of a bag metadata file: Source-Organization: Lumon Industries Organization-Address: 100 Main Street, Kier, PE, 07043 Contact-Name: Harmony Cobel Unlike the manifest files, this is primarily intended for human readers. You can put arbitrary metadata in here, so you can add fields specific to your organisation. Although this file is more flexible, there are still ways it can be invalid: What if the bag metadata is the wrong format? It should have one metadata entry per line, with a label-value pair that’s separated by a colon. What if the Payload-Oxum is incorrect? The Payload-Oxum contains some concise statistics about the payload files: their total size in bytes, and how many there are. For example: Payload-Oxum: 517114.42 This tells us that the bag contains 42 payload files, and their total size is 517,114 bytes. If these stats don’t match the rest of the bag, something is wrong. What if non-repeatable metadata element names are repeated? The BagIt RFC defines a small number of reserved metadata element names which have a standard meaning. Although most metadata element names can be repeated, there are some which can’t, because they can only have one value. In particular: Bagging-Date, Bag-Size, Payload-Oxum and Bag-Group-Identifier. Although the bag metadata file is optional in a general BagIt bag, you may want to add your own rules based on how you use it. For example, at Wellcome Collection, we required all bags to have an External-Identifier value, that matched a specific schema. This allowed us to link bags to records in other databases, and our bag verifier would reject bags that didn’t include it. The Fetch File fetch.txt This is an optional element that allows you to reference files stored elsewhere (RFC 8493 §2.2.3). It tells the person reading the bag that a file hasn’t been included in this copy of the bag; they have to go and fetch it from somewhere else. The file is still recorded in the payload manifest (with a checksum you can verify), but you don’t have a complete bag until you’ve downloaded all the files. Here’s an example of a fetch.txt: https://topekastar.com/~daria/article.txt 1841 data/article.txt This tells us that data/article.txt isn’t included in this copy of the bag, but we we can download it from https://topekastar.com/~daria/article.txt. (The number 1841 is the size of the file in bytes. It’s optional.) Using fetch.txt allows you to send a bag with “holes”, which saves disk space and network bandwidth, but at a cost – we’re now relying on the remote location to remain available. From a preservation standpoint, this is scary! If topekastar.com goes away, this bag will be broken. I know some people don’t use fetch.txt for precisely this reason. If you do use fetch.txt, here are some things to consider: What if the fetch file is the wrong format? There’s a prescribed format – one file per line, with a URL, optional file size, and file path. What if the fetch file lists a file which isn’t in the payload manifest? The fetch.txt should only tell us that a file is stored elsewhere, and shouldn’t be introducing otherwise unreferenced files. If a file appears in fetch.txt but not the payload manifest, then we can’t verify the remote file because we don’t have a checksum for it. There’s either an erroneous fetch file entry or a missing manifest entry. What if the fetch file points to a file at an unusable URL? The URL is only useful if the person who receives the bag can use it to download the file. If they can’t, the bag might technically be valid, but it’s functionally broken. For example, you might reject URLs that don’t start with http:// or https://. What if the fetch file points to a file with the wrong length? The fetch.txt can optionally specify the size of a file, so you know how much storage you need to download it. If you download the file, the actual size should match the stated size. What if the fetch files points to a file that’s already included in the bag? Now you have two ways to get this file: you can read it from the bag, or from the remote URL. If a file is listed in both fetch.txt and included in the bag, either that file isn’t meant to be in the bag, or the fetch file has an erroneous entry. We used fetch files at Wellcome Collection to implement versioning, and we added extra rules about what remote URLs were allowed. In particular, we didn’t allow fetching a file from just anywhere – you could fetch from our S3 buckets, but not the general Internet. The bag verifier would reject a fetch file entry that pointed elsewhere. These examples illustrate just how many ways a BagIt bag can be invalid, from simple structural issues to complex edge cases. Remember: the key is to understand your specific needs and requirements. By considering your context – who creates your bags, where they’ll be stored, and how they fit into your wider systems – you can build a validation process to catch the issues that matter to you, while avoiding unnecessary complexity. I can give you my ideas, but only you can build your system. [If the formatting of this post looks odd in your feed reader, visit the original article]

2 weeks ago 13 votes

More in programming

Diagnosis in engineering strategy.

Once you’ve written your strategy’s exploration, the next step is working on its diagnosis. Diagnosis is understanding the constraints and challenges your strategy needs to address. In particular, it’s about doing that understanding while slowing yourself down from deciding how to solve the problem at hand before you know the problem’s nuances and constraints. If you ever find yourself wanting to skip the diagnosis phase–let’s get to the solution already!–then maybe it’s worth acknowledging that every strategy that I’ve seen fail, did so due to a lazy or inaccurate diagnosis. It’s very challenging to fail with a proper diagnosis, and almost impossible to succeed without one. The topics this chapter will cover are: Why diagnosis is the foundation of effective strategy, on which effective policy depends. Conversely, how skipping the diagnosis phase consistently ruins strategies A step-by-step approach to diagnosing your strategy’s circumstances How to incorporate data into your diagnosis effectively, and where to focus on adding data Dealing with controversial elements of your diagnosis, such as pointing out that your own executive is one of the challenges to solve Why it’s more effective to view difficulties as part of the problem to be solved, rather than a blocking issue that prevents making forward progress The near impossibility of an effective diagnosis if you don’t bring humility and self-awareness to the process Into the details we go! This is an exploratory, draft chapter for a book on engineering strategy that I’m brainstorming in #eng-strategy-book. As such, some of the links go to other draft chapters, both published drafts and very early, unpublished drafts. Diagnosis is strategy’s foundation One of the challenges in evaluating strategy is that, after the fact, many effective strategies are so obvious that they’re pretty boring. Similarly, most ineffective strategies are so clearly flawed that their authors look lazy. That’s because, as a strategy is operated, the reality around it becomes clear. When you’re writing your strategy, you don’t know if you can convince your colleagues to adopt a new approach to specifying APIs, but a year later you know very definitively whether it’s possible. Building your strategy’s diagnosis is your attempt to correctly recognize the context that the strategy needs to solve before deciding on the policies to address that context. Done well, the subsequent steps of writing strategy often feel like an afterthought, which is why I think of diagnosis as strategy’s foundation. Where exploration was an evaluation-free activity, diagnosis is all about evaluation. How do teams feel today? Why did that project fail? Why did the last strategy go poorly? What will be the distractions to overcome to make this new strategy successful? That said, not all evaluation is equal. If you state your judgment directly, it’s easy to dispute. An effective diagnosis is hard to argue against, because it’s a web of interconnected observations, facts, and data. Even for folks who dislike your conclusions, the weight of evidence should be hard to shift. Strategy testing, explored in the Refinement section, takes advantage of the reality that it’s easier to diagnose by doing than by speculating. It proposes a recursive diagnosis process until you have real-world evidence that the strategy is working. How to develop your diagnosis Your strategy is almost certain to fail unless you start from an effective diagnosis, but how to build a diagnosis is often left unspecified. That’s because, for most folks, building the diagnosis is indeed a dark art: unspecified, undiscussion, and uncontrollable. I’ve been guilty of this as well, with The Engineering Executive’s Primer’s chapter on strategy staying silent on the details of how to diagnose for your strategy. So, yes, there is some truth to the idea that forming your diagnosis is an emergent, organic process rather than a structured, mechanical one. However, over time I’ve come to adopt a fairly structured approach: Braindump, starting from a blank sheet of paper, write down your best understanding of the circumstances that inform your current strategy. Then set that piece of paper aside for the moment. Summarize exploration on a new piece of paper, review the contents of your exploration. Pull in every piece of diagnosis from similar situations that resonates with you. This is true for both internal and external works! For each diagnosis, tag whether it fits perfectly, or needs to be adjusted for your current circumstances. Then, once again, set the piece of paper aside. Mine for distinct perspectives on yet another blank page, talking to different stakeholders and colleagues who you know are likely to disagree with your early thinking. Your goal is not to agree with this feedback. Instead, it’s to understand their view. The Crux by Richard Rumelt anchors diagnosis in this approach, emphasizing the importance of “testing, adjusting, and changing the frame, or point of view.” Synthesize views into one internally consistent perspective. Sometimes the different perspectives you’ve gathered don’t mesh well. They might well explicitly differ in what they believe the underlying problem is, as is typical in tension between platform and product engineering teams. The goal is to competently represent each of these perspectives in the diagnosis, even the ones you disagree with, so that later on you can evaluate your proposed approach against each of them. When synthesizing feedback goes poorly, it tends to fail in one of two ways. First, the author’s opinion shines through so strongly that it renders the author suspect. Your goal is never to agree with every team’s perspective, just as your diagnosis should typically avoid crowning any perspective as correct: a reader should generally be appraised of the details and unaware of the author. The second common issue is when a group tries to jointly own the synthesis, but create a fractured perspective rather than a unified one. I generally find that having one author who is accountable for representing all views works best to address both of these issues. Test drafts across perspectives. Once you’ve written your initial diagnosis, you want to sit down with the people who you expect to disagree most fervently. Iterate with them until they agree that you’ve accurately captured their perspective. It might be that they disagree with some other view points, but they should be able to agree that others hold those views. They might argue that the data you’ve included doesn’t capture their full reality, in which case you can caveat the data by saying that their team disagrees that it’s a comprehensive lens. Don’t worry about getting the details perfectly right in your initial diagnosis. You’re trying to get the right crumbs to feed into the next phase, strategy refinement. Allowing yourself to be directionally correct, rather than perfectly correct, makes it possible to cover a broad territory quickly. Getting caught up in perfecting details is an easy way to anchor yourself into one perspective prematurely. At this point, I hope you’re starting to predict how I’ll conclude any recipe for strategy creation: if these steps feel overly mechanical to you, adjust them to something that feels more natural and authentic. There’s no perfect way to understand complex problems. That said, if you feel uncertain, or are skeptical of your own track record, I do encourage you to start with the above approach as a launching point. Incorporating data into your diagnosis The strategy for Navigating Private Equity ownership’s diagnosis includes a number of details to help readers understand the status quo. For example the section on headcount growth explains headcount growth, how it compares to the prior year, and providing a mental model for readers to translate engineering headcount into engineering headcount costs: Our Engineering headcount costs have grown by 15% YoY this year, and 18% YoY the prior year. Headcount grew 7% and 9% respectively, with the difference between headcount and headcount costs explained by salary band adjustments (4%), a focus on hiring senior roles (3%), and increased hiring in higher cost geographic regions (1%). If everyone evaluating a strategy shares the same foundational data, then evaluating the strategy becomes vastly simpler. Data is also your mechanism for supporting or critiquing the various views that you’ve gathered when drafting your diagnosis; to an impartial reader, data will speak louder than passion. If you’re confident that a perspective is true, then include a data narrative that supports it. If you believe another perspective is overstated, then include data that the reader will require to come to the same conclusion. Do your best to include data analysis with a link out to the full data, rather than requiring readers to interpret the data themselves while they are reading. As your strategy document travels further, there will be inevitable requests for different cuts of data to help readers understand your thinking, and this is somewhat preventable by linking to your original sources. If much of the data you want doesn’t exist today, that’s a fairly common scenario for strategy work: if the data to make the decision easy already existed, you probably would have already made a decision rather than needing to run a structured thinking process. The next chapter on refining strategy covers a number of tools that are useful for building confidence in low-data environments. Whisper the controversial parts At one time, the company I worked at rolled out a bar raiser program styled after Amazon’s, where there was an interviewer from outside the team that had to approve every hire. I spent some time arguing against adding this additional step as I didn’t understand what we were solving for, and I was surprised at how disinterested management was about knowing if the new process actually improved outcomes. What I didn’t realize until much later was that most of the senior leadership distrusted one of their peers, and had rolled out the bar raiser program solely to create a mechanism to control that manager’s hiring bar when the CTO was disinterested holding that leader accountable. (I also learned that these leaders didn’t care much about implementing this policy, resulting in bar raiser rejections being frequently ignored, but that’s a discussion for the Operations for strategy chapter.) This is a good example of a strategy that does make sense with the full diagnosis, but makes little sense without it, and where stating part of the diagnosis out loud is nearly impossible. Even senior leaders are not generally allowed to write a document that says, “The Director of Product Engineering is a bad hiring manager.” When you’re writing a strategy, you’ll often find yourself trying to choose between two awkward options: Say something awkward or uncomfortable about your company or someone working within it Omit a critical piece of your diagnosis that’s necessary to understand the wider thinking Whenever you encounter this sort of debate, my advice is to find a way to include the diagnosis, but to reframe it into a palatable statement that avoids casting blame too narrowly. I think it’s helpful to discuss a few concrete examples of this, starting with the strategy for navigating private equity, whose diagnosis includes: Based on general practice, it seems likely that our new Private Equity ownership will expect us to reduce R&D headcount costs through a reduction. However, we don’t have any concrete details to make a structured decision on this, and our approach would vary significantly depending on the size of the reduction. There are many things the authors of this strategy likely feel about their state of reality. First, they are probably upset about the fact that their new private equity ownership is likely to eliminate colleagues. Second, they are likely upset that there is no clear plan around what they need to do, so they are stuck preparing for a wide range of potential outcomes. However they feel, they don’t say any of that, they stick to precise, factual statements. For a second example, we can look to the Uber service migration strategy: Within infrastructure engineering, there is a team of four engineers responsible for service provisioning today. While our organization is growing at a similar rate as product engineering, none of that additional headcount is being allocated directly to the team working on service provisioning. We do not anticipate this changing. The team didn’t agree that their headcount should not be growing, but it was the reality they were operating in. They acknowledged their reality as a factual statement, without any additional commentary about that statement. In both of these examples, they found a professional, non-judgmental way to acknowledge the circumstances they were solving. The authors would have preferred that the leaders behind those decisions take explicit accountability for them, but it would have undermined the strategy work had they attempted to do it within their strategy writeup. Excluding critical parts of your diagnosis makes your strategies particularly hard to evaluate, copy or recreate. Find a way to say things politely to make the strategy effective. As always, strategies are much more about realities than ideals. Reframe blockers as part of diagnosis When I work on strategy with early-career leaders, an idea that comes up a lot is that an identified problem means that strategy is not possible. For example, they might argue that doing strategy work is impossible at their current company because the executive team changes their mind too often. That core insight is almost certainly true, but it’s much more powerful to reframe that as a diagnosis: if we don’t find a way to show concrete progress quickly, and use that to excite the executive team, our strategy is likely to fail. This transforms the thing preventing your strategy into a condition your strategy needs to address. Whenever you run into a reason why your strategy seems unlikely to work, or why strategy overall seems difficult, you’ve found an important piece of your diagnosis to include. There are never reasons why strategy simply cannot succeed, only diagnoses you’ve failed to recognize. For example, we knew in our work on Uber’s service provisioning strategy that we weren’t getting more headcount for the team, the product engineering team was going to continue growing rapidly, and that engineering leadership was unwilling to constrain how product engineering worked. Rather than preventing us from implementing a strategy, those components clarified what sort of approach could actually succeed. The role of self-awareness Every problem of today is partially rooted in the decisions of yesterday. If you’ve been with your organization for any duration at all, this means that you are directly or indirectly responsible for a portion of the problems that your diagnosis ought to recognize. This means that recognizing the impact of your prior actions in your diagnosis is a powerful demonstration of self-awareness. It also suggests that your next strategy’s success is rooted in your self-awareness about your prior choices. Don’t be afraid to recognize the failures in your past work. While changing your mind without new data is a sign of chaotic leadership, changing your mind with new data is a sign of thoughtful leadership. Summary Because diagnosis is the foundation of effective strategy, I’ve always found it the most intimidating phase of strategy work. While I think that’s a somewhat unavoidable reality, my hope is that this chapter has somewhat prepared you for that challenge. The four most important things to remember are simply: form your diagnosis before deciding how to solve it, try especially hard to capture perspectives you initially disagree with, supplement intuition with data where you can, and accept that sometimes you’re missing the data you need to fully understand. The last piece in particular, is why many good strategies never get shared, and the topic we’ll address in the next chapter on strategy refinement.

11 hours ago 3 votes
My friend, JT

I’ve had a cat for almost a third of my life.

2 hours ago 3 votes
[Course Launch] Hands-on Introduction to X86 Assembly

A Live, Interactive Course for Systems Engineers

5 hours ago 2 votes
It’s cool to care

I’m sitting in a small coffee shop in Brooklyn. I have a warm drink, and it’s just started to snow outside. I’m visiting New York to see Operation Mincemeat on Broadway – I was at the dress rehearsal yesterday, and I’ll be at the opening preview tonight. I’ve seen this show more times than I care to count, and I hope US theater-goers love it as much as Brits. The people who make the show will tell you that it’s about a bunch of misfits who thought they could do something ridiculous, who had the audacity to believe in something unlikely. That’s certainly one way to see it. The musical tells the true story of a group of British spies who tried to fool Hitler with a dead body, fake papers, and an outrageous plan that could easily have failed. Decades later, the show’s creators would mirror that same spirit of unlikely ambition. Four friends, armed with their creativity, determination, and a wardrobe full of hats, created a new musical in a small London theatre. And after a series of transfers, they’re about to open the show under the bright lights of Broadway. But when I watch the show, I see a story about friendship. It’s about how we need our friends to help us, to inspire us, to push us to be the best versions of ourselves. I see the swaggering leader who needs a team to help him truly achieve. The nervous scientist who stands up for himself with the support of his friends. The enthusiastic secretary who learns wisdom and resilience from her elder. And so, I suppose, it’s fitting that I’m not in New York on my own. I’m here with friends – dozens of wonderful people who I met through this ridiculous show. At first, I was just an audience member. I sat in my seat, I watched the show, and I laughed and cried with equal measure. After the show, I waited at stage door to thank the cast. Then I came to see the show a second time. And a third. And a fourth. After a few trips, I started to see familiar faces waiting with me at stage door. So before the cast came out, we started chatting. Those conversations became a Twitter community, then a Discord, then a WhatsApp. We swapped fan art, merch, and stories of our favourite moments. We went to other shows together, and we hung out outside the theatre. I spent New Year’s Eve with a few of these friends, sitting on somebody’s floor and laughing about a bowl of limes like it was the funniest thing in the world. And now we’re together in New York. Meeting this kind, funny, and creative group of people might seem as unlikely as the premise of Mincemeat itself. But I believed it was possible, and here we are. I feel so lucky to have met these people, to take this ridiculous trip, to share these precious days with them. I know what a privilege this is – the time, the money, the ability to say let’s do this and make it happen. How many people can gather a dozen friends for even a single evening, let alone a trip halfway round the world? You might think it’s silly to travel this far for a theatre show, especially one we’ve seen plenty of times in London. Some people would never see the same show twice, and most of us are comfortably into double or triple-figures. Whenever somebody asks why, I don’t have a good answer. Because it’s fun? Because it’s moving? Because I enjoy it? I feel the need to justify it, as if there’s some logical reason that will make all of this okay. But maybe I don’t have to. Maybe joy doesn’t need justification. A theatre show doesn’t happen without people who care. Neither does a friendship. So much of our culture tells us that it’s not cool to care. It’s better to be detached, dismissive, disinterested. Enthusiasm is cringe. Sincerity is weakness. I’ve certainly felt that pressure – the urge to play it cool, to pretend I’m above it all. To act as if I only enjoy something a “normal” amount. Well, fuck that. I don’t know where the drive to be detached comes from. Maybe it’s to protect ourselves, a way to guard against disappointment. Maybe it’s to seem sophisticated, as if having passions makes us childish or less mature. Or perhaps it’s about control – if we stay detached, we never have to depend on others, we never have to trust in something bigger than ourselves. Being detached means you can’t get hurt – but you’ll also miss out on so much joy. I’m a big fan of being a big fan of things. So many of the best things in my life have come from caring, from letting myself be involved, from finding people who are a big fan of the same things as me. If I pretended not to care, I wouldn’t have any of that. Caring – deeply, foolishly, vulnerably – is how I connect with people. My friends and I care about this show, we care about each other, and we care about our joy. That care and love for each other is what brought us together, and without it we wouldn’t be here in this city. I know this is a once-in-a-lifetime trip. So many stars had to align – for us to meet, for the show we love to be successful, for us to be able to travel together. But if we didn’t care, none of those stars would have aligned. I know so many other friends who would have loved to be here but can’t be, for all kinds of reasons. Their absence isn’t for lack of caring, and they want the show to do well whether or not they’re here. I know they care, and that’s the important thing. To butcher Tennyson: I think it’s better to care about something you cannot affect, than to care about nothing at all. In a world that’s full of cynicism and spite and hatred, I feel that now more than ever. I’d recommend you go to the show if you haven’t already, but that’s not really the point of this post. Maybe you’ve already seen Operation Mincemeat, and it wasn’t for you. Maybe you’re not a theatre kid. Maybe you aren’t into musicals, or history, or war stories. That’s okay. I don’t mind if you care about different things to me. (Imagine how boring the world would be if we all cared about the same things!) But I want you to care about something. I want you to find it, find people who care about it too, and hold on to them. Because right now, in this city, with these people, at this show? I’m so glad I did. And I hope you find that sort of happiness too. Some of the people who made this trip special. Photo by Chloe, and taken from her Twitter. Timing note: I wrote this on February 15th, but I delayed posting it because I didn’t want to highlight the fact I was away from home. [If the formatting of this post looks odd in your feed reader, visit the original article]

yesterday 4 votes
Stick with the customer

One of the biggest mistakes that new startup founders make is trying to get away from the customer-facing roles too early. Whether it's customer support or it's sales, it's an incredible advantage to have the founders doing that work directly, and for much longer than they find comfortable. The absolute worst thing you can do is hire a sales person or a customer service agent too early. You'll miss all the golden nuggets that customers throw at you for free when they're rejecting your pitch or complaining about the product. Seeing these reasons paraphrased or summarized destroy all the nutrients in their insights. You want that whole-grain feedback straight from the customers' mouth!  When we launched Basecamp in 2004, Jason was doing all the customer service himself. And he kept doing it like that for three years!! By the time we hired our first customer service agent, Jason was doing 150 emails/day. The business was doing millions of dollars in ARR. And Basecamp got infinitely, better both as a market proposition and as a product, because Jason could funnel all that feedback into decisions and positioning. For a long time after that, we did "Everyone on Support". Frequently rotating programmers, designers, and founders through a day of answering emails directly to customers. The dividends of doing this were almost as high as having Jason run it all in the early years. We fixed an incredible number of minor niggles and annoying bugs because programmers found it easier to solve the problem than to apologize for why it was there. It's not easy doing this! Customers often offer their valuable insights wrapped in rude language, unreasonable demands, and bad suggestions. That's why many founders quit the business of dealing with them at the first opportunity. That's why few companies ever do "Everyone On Support". That's why there's such eagerness to reduce support to an AI-only interaction. But quitting dealing with customers early, not just in support but also in sales, is an incredible handicap for any startup. You don't have to do everything that every customer demands of you, but you should certainly listen to them. And you can't listen well if the sound is being muffled by early layers of indirection.

yesterday 4 votes