Wednesday, 15 June 2016

Why I'm Voting Remain: Social Media Redux

So, I wrote a thing about why I'm voting to remain in the EU, and lots of people liked it, but pointed out it was quite long. And they're right. It was. So here's a really nice short manifesto-style version that I think captures the gist of the thing.


If you want to share it, please go ahead

Regular readers – don't go away. Normal tech blogging will resume on the 24th, one way or another. But this is a once-in-a-generation event, and it's important.

Why I’m Voting to Remain in the European Union.

There's a referendum coming up. I'm not going to talk about why it’s happening. I'm not going to share any “facts” about politics or the economy, beyond a few historical details that are the basis for my opinion on this. But I am going to tell you why I'm voting for the UK to remain in the European Union.

I live in London. I’m British, though I grew up in Africa. I’ve never been much of a patriot, although I’ll confess to the odd surge of pride when it comes to Pink Floyd, the BBC and Thrust SSC. I’ve spent most of my adult life working in software development, and I'm lucky enough to work with an outstanding team of people – some of the brightest, smartest people you'll ever meet. More than half of our development team are EU citizens who are living and working in London thanks to the UK being part of the EU. I love working with these people, and there's numerous studies supporting my own anecdotal experience that working with people you like is a massive factor in how happy you are. And, like many Londoners, my friends are a motley assortment of people from all over the world, and a lot of them are here as citizens of the EU. On a very immediate level, it would really suck if they all had to either leave the UK or go through the merry hell of applying for permanent leave to remain, and potentially have to choose between their native citizenship and becoming British citizens. But that's both a very personal and a very temporary thing. I’m sure we'd all get over it eventually.

In the last year, I've been lucky enough to visit Lithuania, Denmark, France, Belgium, Norway and Ukraine. France and Belgium were founder members of the EEC, the predecessor to the European Union. Denmark and the UK joined in 1973. Lithuania, part of the USSR until 1991, became a member of the EU in 2004. Norway is a bit special, but it is a part of the European Economic Area and the Schengen visa area. Ukraine has gone, within my lifetime, from being part of the Soviet Union to winning the Eurovision Song Contest. Ukraine borders four EU member states (Romania, Hungary, Poland, and Slovakia), and whilst I don't think it will be admitted as a member of the European Union any time soon, the prospect of closer integration with the EU is a huge factor in Ukrainian politics. Whilst the UK was gearing up for a referendum about whether to leave the EU, two hundred thousand Ukrainians were marching through Independence Square in protest at their government's failure to sign a trade agreement that would have represented one small step towards eventual EU membership. I've visited all these countries without applying for a visa. I've spent time in these remarkable places with friends and colleagues from all over the world.

The Kon-Tiki, the balsa-wood raft that Thor Heyerdahl sailed from Peru to Polynesia. Photograph © National Geographic

In Oslo, there is a museum dedicated to the great Norwegian explorer Thor Heyerdahl, who dedicated his life to the study of human migration, researching the astonishing stories of people who crossed Earth's vast oceans on flimsy wooden boats in search of a better life. This wanderlust, the urge to venture beyond our comfort zone, is as old as humanity. Along one wall is a quote from Heyerdahl:

“Borders - I have never seen one. But I have heard they exist in the minds of some people.”

He's right. Borders aren't physical things. Sure, some of them run along coastlines and rivers, but that's not the point. Borders are where, once upon a time, we drew a line in the sand and agreed that as long as your lot stayed on your side and our lot stayed on our side, it would be OK if maybe we stopped killing each other for a bit. And, slowly, as we learned to put down the pointed sticks and talk to each other instead, the world has changed. We can cross those borders now. We can live, work and study abroad. We can make friends, fall in love, start families, start businesses. Fifty years ago, someone from Birmingham falling for someone from Bucharest would have been a Pulitzer Prize-winning novel. Today it's just one more data point on Tinder (Or Grindr, depending who's playing.)

And that's why this matters to me. The impact of next week’s referendum will last for generations. It isn't about the petty power struggle between David Cameron and Boris Johnson. It isn't about Jeremy Corbyn or UKIP or immigration or the "war on terror" or economic subsidies. It's about peace, and stability, and the opportunities that affords all of us. The author Charlie Stross captured perfectly my thoughts about this when he wrote:

"The EU is the current incarnation of an institution established in 1947 to ensure that never again would the nations of western Europe go to war with one another."

The European Union is the legacy of a group of nations who, still reeling from the horror and the bloodshed of World War II, agreed that whatever the challenges the future might hold, we would be stronger facing those challenges together. They believed, as I do, that a unified Europe represents a significant step on the road towards a better world for humankind. Next week, the UK goes to the polls to decide whether we want to step off that road or not. Whether we want to close our borders, lock our doors and go it alone. To me, this is tantamount to a decision about whether we, the citizens of the United Kingdom, believe that we deserve to prosper while others are suffering, and there's really only one way I can answer that question and still sleep at night.

Neither side is presenting a terribly cohesive argument. Speculation, scaremongering and misinformation are absolutely rife on both sides. Nobody knows what'll happen if we leave. Nobody really knows what'll happen if we stay. I'm not quite sure what "vote remain" are campaigning on, but from the leaflets I’ve been getting through my front door, it looks to me very much like the "vote leave" camp is campaigning on fear. Fear of immigration and poverty and hardship. Fear of terrorism. Fear of things which are a fact of life for billions of people around the world. I am not scared of these things, because I believe that if we work together, we can solve them, just as we brought lasting peace to the countries of western Europe after centuries of frequent, bloody conflict. Twenty years ago, most British people’s idea of a terrorist was an Irishman in a ski mask. Things can change, and they will.

That doesn’t mean I’m not scared. I'm scared that fear and misinformation are going to rule the day. I'm scared for my friends and colleagues for whom a "leave" result on the 23rd could have a real, immediate impact on their lives and livelihoods. I'm scared that, a century from now, some kid is going ask grandad how the war started, and he’ll tell them a story that starts with Brexit. If you don't think that's a possibility, consider that it's less than a hundred years since the Battle of the Somme - nearly a million British, French and German soldiers killed and wounded on the fields of northern France. No Islamic State, no al-Qaeda, no "war on terror" - just honest God-fearing white guys killing one another for the hell of it. Within thirty years, they'd do it all over again – nearly a thousand veterans of that conflict are still alive today.

Since the 1950s, the EEC, and later the EU, has grown from six countries to twenty-eight, and there has never been an armed conflict between two EU member states. And if you think that EU membership is expensive, remember that World War I nearly bankrupted the UK, and World War II saw us borrow so much money from the United States that we didn't finish paying them back until 2006. Peace is small potatoes compared to the cost of war.

Different people care about different things, and I respect that. Ask yourself what matters to you, research your position, and vote accordingly. Maybe even draw up a list of things you hope are going to happen as a result, so you can validate your assumptions a few years from now. But these are the things that matter to me, and I haven’t heard a single plausible argument that leaving the EU will improve any of them.

I believe that peace is more important than politics. I believe that the desire to travel in search of new ideas and new experiences is fundamental to what makes us human. I believe that open borders and common markets give us unprecedented freedom to explore the world we live in. I believe that membership of the European Union embodies all of these principles, and I’m voting to remain.


Monday, 13 June 2016

Join us at the Progressive.NET Tutorials 2016!

Next week sees the return of the Progressive.NET Tutorials at SkillsMatter here in London.

Prog dot net postcard A6 date sticker.indd

Progressive.NET is a unique event. It goes beyond the high-level slides & code demos of most conferences, and offers a series of hands-on, in-depth workshops with some of the best speakers and experts in the .NET world. This year we’ve got a great lineup of speakers and workshops. On Wednesday, Glenn Block will be showing you how to run C# outside your IDE using ScriptCS, Ian Cooper will be demonstrating high-availability patterns for distributed systems, Toby Henderson will be showing you how to get up and running with .NET Core, and I’ll be running a new workshop about asynchronous programming patterns, async/await and how you can use them to deliver more responsive apps.

Image result for ian cooper

Thursday, we’ve got Ashic Mahtab showing you how to process millions of messages a second using Apache Kafka, we’ve got Mark Gray talking about machine learning in F#. After lunch Ben Hall will be showing you how to get up and running with .NET and Docker, and Phil Trelford will be building a compiler with F#, starting with an abstract syntax tree and a parser, and ending up with a compiler that generates .NET IL code or JavaScript. Thursday wraps up with the Progressive.NET Party – food, drinks, and a chance to hang out with the Progressive.NET speakers and developers in the Space Bar at SkillsMatter’s amazing CodeNode building.

On Friday, we round out the event with a day of talks from some of the best speakers in .NET

  • Rachel Reese on event-driven microservices
  • Charalampos Karypidis on isomorphic JavaScript applications and .NEt
  • Sebastien Lambla on API versioning (and why it’s evil)
  • Rajpal Singh Wilkhu on OpenID Connect and Identity Server
  • David Whitney on metaprogramming
  • Harry Cummings on Node.js for .NET developers
  • Barbara Fusinska talking about predicting the future with Azure machine learning
  • Sam Elamin talking about metrics-driven development
  • Liam Westley on App 2.0 and why the web lost
  • Evelina Gabasova on how to spice up your website with machine learning


Progressive.NET has been running since 2009. It’s an excellent event, and it’s also a great way to keep up to date with everything that’s new in the .NET world. If you’ve been hearing about things like .NET Core, Docker, Identity Server, async and await, machine learning – and you’re not quite sure what they are or how they apply to you – come along to Progressive.NET. By the end of the week, you’ll have a head full of new ideas, a laptop full of working code you can refer back to, and a load of new friends who can help out when you get stuck.

The event is next week, 22-24th June, at the SkillsMatter CodeNode here in London. Tickets are normally £875+VAT, but you can use the code SPECIAL_LDNUG_PROGNET to get 40% off - £525 instead of £875 – so what are you waiting for? Get your ticket now and we’ll see you there!

Friday, 13 May 2016

The Next Big(int) Thing

One of our systems here uses a bigint identity column as a database primary key – because we knew when we built it, back in 2010, that we were going to end up with more than 2,147,483,647 records.

Well, that happened at 12:02 today, and a couple of systems promptly failed – because, despite the underlying database being designed to handle 2^63 records, the POCOs that were being mapped to those classes were using a regular C# int to store the record ID, and so as soon as they got an ID from the database that's bigger than Int32.MaxValue, they blew up. Thanks to the underlying DB schema already supporting 64-bit IDs, the fix was pretty simple – just change int to long in a few carefully-selected places and redeploy the applications – but it's still annoying that something we knew about, and planned for, still came back to bite us. So I started thinking – how could we stop this happening?

The problem is that, despite being a bigint column, we just accepted SQL Server's default identity setting of (1,1) – i.e. start counting at 1, and increment by 1 each time. Which means that until you hit 2-billion-and-something records, it doesn't actually make any difference - and that takes a while. In our case, it took 5 years, 8 months and 26 days. During that time we've made hundreds of changes to our code, and in a handful of those cases, we've mapped that bigint ID onto a regular C# Int32 – and so inadvertently planted a little time-bomb in our production code. Tick, tick, tick…

So here's a nice neat solution, that I wish I'd thought of five years ago. Anytime you create a bigint identity, seed it with (2147483648, 1) – so that right from day one, it's already too big to fit in an Int32. Any system that tries to store an ID in a regular int variable will fail immediately, not in five years when someone creates that magic 2.14-billion-and-somethingth record. Even though you've effectively thrown away 2^32 possible values, you have another (2^64 - 2^32) values to play with, so you've lost a tiny, tiny fraction of the available keyspace in exchange for immediate feedback if any of your client apps can't cope with 64-bit ID values.

Thursday, 5 May 2016

We're Gonna Build a Framework!


Check it out! I made a thing. A musical thing. Well, Billy Joel made the musical thing (which is copyright © 1989 Columbia Records, btw) and I wrote and recorded a new set of lyrics for it, all about software frameworks and how lovely it is to have so many to choose from.

And, for anyone who doesn't believe that every single one of those really is a software development framework, here's the Googlified lyrics.

Handlebars, Hibernate, Solar, Activate,
Phalcon, Flask and Silverstripe and TYPO3 Flow,
Agavi, Pixie, Hazaar MVC,
CodeIgniter, Lithium and PRADO.

Raphael, Bobo, Bottle and Tornado,
Django, CherryPy and WSGI
Glashammer, WebSphere, RedBean, TurboGears,
Albatross, Aquarium, Selenium,


We’re gonna build a framework,
‘cos we wanna use one, but don’t wanna choose one,
We’re gonna build a framework,
we didn’t like the others, so we’ll write another…

SiteCore, Tapestry, Maverick and JSP,
Barracuda, Ay Caramba, Groovy on Grails,
Intercal on Interstates, Cascade, NHibernate,
JDBC, Ruby on Rails
Jasmine, Doctrine, Java Forms Engine,
Active Record, D3, Dapper and Velocity,
Thymeleaf, TopLink, Pyramid, Rethync,
Aura, Rico, Midori and Mojito,

Sitemesh, Cymbeline, Enterprise Java Beans,
Hug, Grok, Boost, Click, anything by Telerik,
Rango, Dojo, LLBLGen Pro,
Carbonado, Seaside, Pylons and Pyroxide

Fusebox, Flight, Flex, ServiceStack, Silex,
Carbon, Cocoa, Ample and Giotto,
Banshee, Symfony, Laravel, Fat Free,
Mocha, Pecker, Hobo, Cuba and Rialto

OpenRasta, Nancy, ASP net MVC,
Kendo, Zend, ODBC and Tempo,
Java Server Faces, Entity Spaces,
Cappuccino, SpecFlow, Polymer, JDO,
Google Web Toolkit, no need to learn Javascript,
JDK, code away, what else do I have to say?

Prototype, Boilerplate, jQuery, animate,
Mustache, Wijmo, Ionic and Allegro,
Bootstrap, Backbone, running on an iPhone;
Mobile apps, going live, built in HTML5
Angular, Scriptaculous, react, redux,
Knockout, ember, does anyone remember,
It’s just like in the browser wars,
IExplore and Netscape 4,
lodash vs underscore,
and I can’t take it any more!

(yes, I know ODBC and JDBC aren't strictly speaking frameworks.)

(yes, I also know the recorded version uses Tempo twice. Relax. It's OK.)

London.NET User Group – A Progressive.NET Special!

This July, the Progressive.NET Tutorials returns to SkillsMatter – for the eighth year running, we’re bringing together some of the best speakers and experts in the .NET community for three days of in-depth workshops and hands-on tutorials. The team at SkillsMatter are working hard to finalize what promises to be a great programme, covering all the latest platforms, patterns and ideas in the world of .NET development.

To coincide with this, we’re running a special London.NET User Group meetup at SkillsMatter the night before the conference – Tuesday 21st June.

imageWe’re going to be hosting a series of short talks and demos, around a theme of “zero footprint” development tools. Over the years, we’ve had a lot of really excellent talks covering languages, platforms, patterns, architectural styles – but quite often, we’ll be in the pub afterwards chatting about the talk we’ve just seen, and you’ll hear people saying “it looks really great; maybe I can try it out on my next project” or “I love the idea but I can’t see the rest of the team going for it.”

So, for our Progressive.NET special, we want to showcase the very best tools, utilities and ideas that you can start using right away – they won’t modify your code, they won’t break your build pipeline, they won’t interfere with what the rest of your team are doing, but they might make your day just a little bit more pleasant – and we want your help!

Come along and give us a 10-minute demo of something you think is awesome. Maybe it’s an open source tool, maybe it’s one of your company’s products, maybe it’s just something you use daily and can’t live without – but remember: zero footprint. Don’t break the build, don’t don’t move the cheese.

In the spirit of things like Scott Hanselman’s 2014 Ultimate Developer and Power Users Tool List, we’re looking for talks about:

Whether you’re a first-timer speaker or a fulltime product evangelist, we’d love to have you on board, so have a think, get in touch – by email or find us @LondonDotNet on Twitter - and get involved!

Wednesday, 27 April 2016


I’m at BuildStuff Vilnius, in November 2015. It’s Thursday night. Mark Rendle and I are doing our comedy panel game quiz thing. We found out about ten minutes ago that we’re doing our show in a nightclub, with no wi-fi, hardly any microphones and… basically it’s a bit of a train crash. And we’re hustling for volunteers to help us make the train crash funny. Between Mark’s friends and mine, we rope in half-a-dozen people. One of them is this weird tall Belgian guy. He’s good; they’re all good. He gets it. He’s funny and engaging and genuinely interesting. We somehow walk away with our collective dignity intact, and people even tell us afterwards that they loved it. Mark and I swear to each other we’re never doing that particular show in a nightclub ever again.

We’re still in Vilnius, it’s Saturday, and I’ve had the day off. I’ve been sightseeing. I’m tired and hungry, and I don’t want to just head back to the hotel, so I find a café with wi-fi, I look up Vilnius on, and I find this bar – Bix Baras. I go in, I chat to the staff. Their English, like their beer, is excellent; my Lithuanan barely covers “hello” and “thank you” – but I eat lunch and have a few beers, and then head back to the hotel. When I get there, the tall Belgian guy from the quiz is playing the piano – one of those wonderful grand pianos that adorn hotel bars the world over without anyone ever really playing them. I ask if I can join him; he moves over, I sit down, we play for a while – he’s doing most of the work, I’m just bouncing along on the white notes, picking out pentatonic minor melodies that fit with what he’s doing. It’s fun. It’s nice, and it feels somehow conspiratorial – for starters, we’re playing one of those pianos that you probably walk past every day of your life and assume that it’s for Other People to play, and not for you, and yet here we are.

I go upstairs, change my shirt, ask Seb if he fancies heading downtown for a beer. We need a night off from the whole conference crowd, but on a whim I ask the Belgian guy on the piano if he wants to join us. He says yes, and introduces himself as Pieter. We’ve officially met. We jump in a cab and head downtown.

Bix Baras has good beer, and great snacks, and we talk – myself and Seb and Pieter. We drink, we eat hard cheese and pigs’ ears and Lithuanian dark bread. And it’s remarkable, because there’s no small talk. We talk about ideas, and we share experiences. The conversation is disarmingly easy. I’m not used to this. Most people at conferences talk about tech – about .NET or NodeJS or Docker. We talk about life. We talk about what we do, and why we care. We talk about friendship, and failed relationships, and psychopaths, and adventures. We walk up the road to the pool hall where some of the other BuildStuff gang are having drinks. Pieter and I get talking about speaking. Within the hour, he’s challenged pretty much every idea I’ve ever had about speaking and giving talks, but it doesn’t feel adversarial – there’s something genuinely inspirational about it. We finish our drinks and wander back to the hotel, but the conversation resonates.

Sunday, we fly to Kyiv – a whole crowd of us. I’m walking next to Pieter on the tarmac as we head out to our plane, and he’s talking about how much he’s enjoying the experience – “For the first time ever I feel like I’m on the road with my gang” – and I know exactly what he means. The sense of camaraderie is wonderful – 30-odd hardcore geeks heading out to Ukraine together – yet it somehow didn’t really click until Pieter pointed it out.

In Kyiv, we hang out. We chat. We talk about code, about community, about psychology. I watch his talk about building open source communities. From where I’m sitting, he appears to give a 50-minute talk with no notes and no slides, and solve a Rubik’s cube while he’s doing it. He confides in me afterwards that the cube was a bit of a stunt – shuffle it a couple of turns, memorise them, play them backwards on stage – but that almost doesn’t matter; the talk is brilliant, the audience are involved and engaged, and I’m sat there wondering how much of my life I’ve spent making Powerpoint slides, and why…

Eventually, Pieter turns our conversation in that bar in Vilnius into a blog post – Ten Steps to Better Public Speaking – which is simultaneously gratifying and terrifying. Gratifying that he thinks our conversation is interesting enough to warrant an entire blog post. Terrifying, because when you’re name-checked in a post like that, the only thing you can really do is rise to the challenge, and that means I’m gonna need to REALLY work hard on… well, on every talk I ever give again.

Months pass. I think often of our conversation in that pool hall in Vilnius and the blog post that followed. One day, I email Pieter – “Hey, remember that chat in Vilnius? Do you fancy doing a joint talk at NDC Oslo?” He says yes, I write something up, I send it over, and start worrying about the fact I’ll be sharing a stage with the great Pieter Hintjens – and about the fact I’ve signed up to give a talk that’s gonna drag me out of my comfort zone in almost every way.

By chance, I’m in Brussels in March, en route to a long weekend in Leuven with my girlfriend. I email Pieter, we arrange to meet for lunch: we talk about ideas. He’s riffing on ideas – about opening an office in Brussels for people who need a place to hack; about using mesh networking to build “smart chairs” that tell the pavement café when they need replacing; about speaking and software and people and life. He talks about his father, about euthanasia, about family. We talk briefly about our joint talk and NDC, but not too much; after all, too much rehearsal would undermine the vulnerability. And we part with a hug, and a promise to see each other in Oslo.

I watch Pieter and @jesslynnrose joking on Twitter about gender-swapped TV shows. Pieter posts this: prescient, or just meditative? Then on March 26th, following a whole lot of the kind of fallout that just doesn’t fit into 140 characters, Pieter announces he’s leaving Twitter. I’m sad to see him go, but have no doubt I’ll have many more evenings hanging out and having my preconceptions challenged by this remarkable individual.

Then I get an email. The subject just says “NDC” It reads:

“Hi Dylan,

Seems my cancer has come back... still waiting for detailed prognosis and next steps. Looks pretty bad atm. In any case, no travel for me for the next months.

You're going to have to do the talk by yourself. Stick to the ten rules, watch my Serbian video a couple of times and you'll do fine. :)

Sorry about this.”

I don’t care about the talk. I’m worried about my friend – this sounds bad. I email him back. He replies. Time passes. He rejoins Twitter, because it’s a good way to connect with a lot of people who want to know what’s going on. And then he posts this:

We will try chemotherapy. It's palliative, there is no cure for this. So, time to start saying goodbye.

And then he posts “A Protocol for Dying”, and it’s pretty clear that this is it. One way or another, it won’t be long before Pieter’s not around any more. And people start talking, and posting, and tweeting… and before long, a common thread emerges. It seems you really didn’t need to spend very much time with Pieter for him to leave a lasting impression.

I spent five days with Pieter late last year, and had lunch with him once, a few months ago. I’ve never visited his house, never met his family, never collaborated with him – but the time I’ve spent with him and the conversations we’ve shared have been some of the most profoundly challenging and inspiring interactions I’ve had in a very long time. And it’s not just me. There are countless comments on Pieter’s most recent blog posts from people who met him once or twice – or not at all, in the case of the people who know Pieter through email and through his code – but whom nevertheless believe that knowing him has had a profound impact on their life.

I was in a restaurant earlier tonight, with my girlfriend, Clare, and some of my cow-orkers. We ended up talking about Pieter. Clare met Pieter briefly, for about five minutes, in Bruxelles-Midi railway station back in March. At the time, Clare was feeling completely freaked out at being in an unfamiliar country where she didn’t speak the language or know how things worked, and my meeting up with this weird guy who “looked really stern” didn’t help at all. Pieter warned us (a pair of hardcore Londoners) about the risks and dangers of hanging out in the station, and then helped Clare find her train to Leuven.

When I got that first email from Pieter, I told Clare. When I saw his Twitter post, and when he posted “A Protocol for Dying”, I told Clare – and she’d already read it. And then she said to me tonight “I want to email Pieter. I don’t know him, but I know what’s happening, and I just want him to know that I’ll remember him next time – probably every time? – that I go through Brussels, and I hope one day I’ll be a bit more badass – just like he is.”

So here’s to Pieter, and here’s hoping that long after he’s stopped coding and tweeting and blogging, he’ll still be inspiring all of us to open up, to embrace our vulnerability and “to be a bit more badass”.