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Building a family of single-user services

2026-08-27T00:00:00Z

Last month I made and wrote about a personal service to track my workouts and record personal bests. Since then, things have escalated. I now have eight different services running in the same “family”:

Name	Purpose
Collegiate Room	Simple weather overview for my current location
German Mall	LLM broker for use by other services
Gloss White	Weight tracking
Olive Crosses	Central service hub
Pompei Band	Workout and personal best tracking
Speed Carp	Spaced repetition system
Tiger Island	Reading history and library tracking
Typical Horse	Location history and analytics

The names are all anagrams of something related to their function. Finding those anagrams brings me an unreasonable amount of joy. Unscrambling them is an exercise left to the reader. On top of those eight, I currently have four other service ideas sat in my todo list. It’s going to be a big family.

A postmortem on the previous hodge-podge

Most of this functionality isn’t new to me. When I started out playing around with LLMs, I created a “personal data aggregator” that just kept getting things bolted on. I said at the time:

My biggest just-for-me project is a web app that I started to help me aggregate film recommendations. It’s since morphed into a general personal data aggregation service: it deals with data from GitHub, Todoist, Letterboxd, TMDB, Healthkit, and others. It also lets me make re-orderable lists, store recipes, and more. Parts of this could definitely be open sourced, and I might carve them out at some point, but it’s mostly a glorious hodge-podge of things specific to me. Having all these services in one place lets me make quick and dirty automations, for example: when I create a Todoist note on my phone or watch, I often forget to set the due date, so it doesn’t show up in the “Today” view. It was literally a few lines of code to plumb things together so any inbox task without a due date gets set to today automatically.

In a twist that nobody could see coming, it turns out that a “glorious hodge-podge” is actually quite hard to maintain and very annoying to work with. It didn’t help that it had a fairly extensive Svelte frontend and I really am not a fan of JavaScript. I ended up using it less and less just because it wasn’t fun to use or work on, and I didn’t want to waste the limited LLM tokens on doing massive refactors or reworks.

I’ve got almost two decades of professional software development experience under my belt, so you’d think I would have learnt the lessons on how to write maintainable software. Hell, my CV even mentions that as something I’m particularly good at. So what went wrong?

There were a few factors. One of the obvious things to blame is that it was written mostly with LLMs. Most of that blame isn’t very honest, though. In the year or so since, LLMs have definitely got better at writing good code; but I was manually reviewing all the code at the time, and telling it quite carefully what to implement and how to do it. So the buck really stops with me.

I think it’s actually more because it was my first larger project using LLMs. It’s a bit like learning a new programming language. I don’t think the first sizable project I’ve written in any language has ever been any good. You can read and learn as much as you want, but you need to actually run into some problems headfirst to get a grip on how the language works. Or at least I do. LLM coding agents are basically the same deal.

What the LLMs actually did was mask several problems. The architecture wasn’t right for how the service developed. It started out as a single-purpose app and gradually got things bolted on, without any major changes. Everything ended up in horizontal slices: a massive database layer with every query used by every part of the app, a massive HTTP layer, and so on. Working on a single feature became a tap dance all over the source tree. This sort of friction is normally quite apparent when you’re writing code by hand, and at some point it hurts enough that you throw in the towel and do some refactoring. But the LLM will happily plod on without exposing that pain, so the project needed a more active kind of architecture management that it just didn’t get.

The other problem they covered up was how brittle and unmaintainable the JavaScript frontend was. I’m not even sure how I ended up with a Svelte frontend in hindsight. It’s my preferred framework, but I still only reach for it as a last resort when there’s no other way to avoid using one. It seems like there were lots of ways to avoid it here, but I seem to have… well… avoided them. Anyway, each feature got its own slew of Svelte components, without much thought to reusability, shared patterns, or anything sensible. Some of them were just thin wrappers around data supplied by Go, others had vast swathes of logic in them, with no real rhyme or reason as to which way that would fall. It’s the same issue as before: a human would look at it, say “WTF?” and suggest tidying it up; instead, the LLM just gets on with what you tell it to do.

There’s also a big non-LLM factor: one of the primary reasons all of this unrelated functionality got tossed into the same app was that I’d previously worked on a few projects with a microservice architecture and really didn’t like it. My conclusion was they only really worked in large environments where you can dedicate people or teams to working on all the boilerplate that happens from maintaining lots of interconnected projects. Dumping everything and the kitchen sink into one badly architected monolith was, perhaps, not the best rebound from that.

Pompei Band and beyond

When I wanted to implement ~~Strava at home~~ my PB tracking app, it seemed fairly natural to build it out as a new service, rather than bolt it on to the slowly decomposing hodge-podge that was giving off a funny smell. Then when I wanted a weather dashboard, why not do it in the same style as Pompei Band? The same serving architecture, the same page layout… I could even come up with a similar weird two-word name!

Then wouldn’t it be nice if the weather dashboard knew where I was, so it could show the local weather? I could just build that functionality in, but it’d also be a good opportunity to carve out the location history feature from my old service and make a new, shinier one. Then basically every time I even thought about going near the old service, I mentally sketched out a replacement service.

Olive Crosses showing links to the other services

At one point I had the thought that it’d be nice if the services could all link to one another, but I didn’t want to have to touch every service whenever I added a new one. So I made a “hub” service, which maintains the One True Catalogue, and provides a bit of JavaScript the others can all embed to add a navigation sidebar.

So after complaining about microservices and JavaScript, it sounds like I have landed on microservices (or at least miniservices) and JavaScript? Sort of yes, but sort of no. Each service is still its own thing and makes sense independent of the others. There are some cross-service dependencies, but they’re very simple and don’t have the same cognitive or boilerplate overhead as a login service that talks to an authentication service that queries a user manager and so on. And as for the JavaScript, it’s almost exclusively used for progressive enhancement and a few limited client-side visual things like maps and graphs. All of the logic lives in Go, which is a lot easier to maintain and test, and all of the pages are simple Go templates.

Having these services built in a way that I actually like has motivated me to play around a lot more with new features:

My workout tracking app pulls photos from my private Immich server that were taken during workouts, and shows them alongside. Now I can see all my obligatory end-of-run selfies in one place.
The location history app can detect trips away from home, and get an LLM to automatically title them. My most recent, very exotic, trip has the title “A fortnight in Milton Keynes and Coventry”. Each trip gets its own little map, and in the future I want to pull in images like with workouts.
My weight tracking app now exports weigh-ins to Garmin, as it doesn’t fully integrate with Apple Health (it will export its own weights, but not import others, like the ones from my Withings scales). Stupid walled gardens, but thankfully I can fix it myself.
My book tracking app automatically cleans up the titles of books from the nonsense provided by Amazon to something more palatable. “Killing Eve: Long Shot: A twist on obsession, betrayal and revenge from Luke Jennings, author of the TV sensation Killing Eve” becomes “Long Shot (Killing Eve #5)”. It does this by passing the title to an LLM with a bunch of rules.
The hub generates me a snippet of Tailscale configuration that defines the minimal grants needed to allow the intra-service dependencies to work.

The LLM integrations were inspired by my friend Shane who recently demonstrated an inventory tracking app he’d made, which used Haiku to process images of boxes and describe the contents. I’ve dabbled with LLM integration before, and always disliked the process of fiddling with the prompts, and debugging when the LLM gave a nonsensical response. So I built German Mall, which makes it a lot easier. It lets me define a “workflow” consisting of a system prompt, initial message, and expected response format. I can browse past runs, tweak the prompt, rerun them to see the change, all without touching the services using them. Quick iteration loops are the best. German Mall also provides markdown documentation for each workflow, so integrating it downstream is simply a case of pointing a coding agent at the right documentation endpoint.

The “tidy book titles” workflow in German Mall

It’s not all fun and games: having a bunch of services all following the same pattern means you need to do cross-cutting maintenance on them now and then. But that’s surprisingly easy with LLMs. I put all the projects in a common folder, and I launch cross-cutting tasks from that folder. Usually I’ll make the change in one project, and then the cross-cutting task is simply “Look at commit XYZ in ./foo, make the same change to the other projects”.

I’ve also ended up with a shared library used by all the projects to cut down on some boilerplate. That’s normally something I’d resist, especially with personal projects, just because the extra overhead of working in a separate project, managing releases of it, and so on, is a bit annoying. But, again, LLMs can do almost all of that grunt work. They effectively reduce the “cost” of maintaining separate services to a negligible level, leaving me to focus on the more fun aspects like coming up with new names.

Monthly Meanderings: March 2026

2026-04-01T00:00:00Z

Since last month’s update I’ve been unpleasantly reminded that I’m middle aged, through the medium of a dodgy knee. There’s nothing quite like not being able to stand up without groaning to underscore that you’re not young any more. The ongoing game of “will this seemingly mundane activity make my knee go funny again?” is a delight to play, too. I’m great at it.

Website updates

Two new blog posts this month: the longest way to represent a date is a short thought experiment on absurd date formats, and modern CSS is fun goes through some neat new CSS features I’ve used recently for this site.

I did some design tweaks this month: headers now have a blue background behind them¹, and a lot of components have been redesigned to have a consistent style. You can see that component in action in the new “now playing” widget I’ve added:

Chappell Roan — After Midnight The Rise and Fall of a Midwest Princess Scrobbled 34m ago

Instead of each component defining its own styles (which were mostly copied and pasted), there’s now a single class that handles the drop shadow, border, background colour, and the optional title. It also applies a consistent format to elements that are clickable: they use the blue accent colour for their borders, and have a glow effect shown on hover.

The now playing widget is part of a larger bit of work I did on importing some music stats. I’m pulling in the data from my Navidrome instance. A new music page shows my most listened albums and artists. Navidrome doesn’t store a complete play history, just the last play and the count, so I can’t do “what I listened to last month” stats until next month.

Other projects

Other than a minor bug-fix update to contempt, my Dockerfile templating/updating tool, I’ve not done much on my other open source projects. I’ve got a bit more work to do finish migrating all my repositories from GitHub to my private Forgejo instance. I’ve also been thinking about mirroring my public repositories to Codeberg so there’s a non-GitHub way to access them.

Entertainment

I apparently only watched a single film in March:

The Substance

2026-03-18

I really didn’t get on with this. It’s too long for what it is, and over-the-top in a way that just didn’t work for me.

Demi Moore and Margaret Qualley were great, but nothing else really was. The cinematography and sound design were too affected, the plot was pretty shallow and obvious, most of the body horror fell into the uncanny CGI valley for me.

It’s not completely without merit: there were around 40 minutes in the middle where I was really into it, but that’s not really enough given it’s closing in on a 2.5 hour runtime.

There’s something to be said for the message it’s presenting about women in Hollywood, too, but it was very heavy handed. Dennis Quaid’s character is even called Harvey; it’s not so much a subtle nod as a sledgehammer to the face.

Instead of films, I’ve been watching a bunch of TV. After devouring The Pitt last month, I struggled to find something to fill the hole it left. I settled on catching up on Chicago Fire and Chicago P.D.. They’re both mostly about getting things done without personal drama becoming the primary focus. They’re not quite as grounded as The Pitt, but at least they’ve not completely gone off the deep end like 9-1-1 where the first responders end up in space somehow?

I’ve also watched the first two episodes of SNL UK. I didn’t have very high expectations, and it gave me a pleasant surprise. Both episodes so far have some hilarious sketches, and are obviously written by British comics with the typical darker, more sardonic humour that separates us from the USA.

Last but not least, board games! I spent a weekend at a tabletop/LAN event with friends, so got to physically play some games for a change. I also kept up with some turn-based games on Board Game Arena, as usual.

6 plays
4 plays
4 plays
4 plays
3 plays
3 plays
3 plays
2 plays
2 plays
2 plays
2 plays
2 plays
1 play

Around the web

Warranty Void if Regenerated

Some really cool speculative fiction about a future where all software is written by LLMs, and the social effects that may have. Unfortunately the story itself is written with an LLM, and that becomes painfully obvious about a third of the way in. By that point I was already hooked, though.

My 2-step process for AI-free blogging

Speaking of LLM-generated text, this short piece by Manuel Moreale made me laugh. I’m by no means anti-LLM, but I really hate people publishing the output like it’s their own work. It breaks the social assumption that the writer put more effort in than the reader, and makes me wonder how much is hallucinated.

25 Years of Eggs

An interesting applied use of coding agents. I’m a sucker for personal statistics. I have no explicit desire to keep my receipts, or generate graphs of my egg consumption, but seeing the graphs makes me question that. The journey to get there is a great read, too.

I made a one-page notebook

The clever paper folding is interesting, but I really like some of the small touches on the page. There’s a nice little “in reply to” callout providing context at the top of the page, you can click to rotate the image further down, and there’s a details element containing a textual version of it. It has that great ‘small web’ vibe of someone who really cares about what they’re doing.

Workers who love ‘synergizing paradigms’ might be bad at their jobs

I haven’t read the full paper, but the summary given by the article is equal parts interesting and amusing. They developed a “Corporate Bullshit Receptivity Scale”, what more is there to say?

It’s meant to resemble painter’s tape, but I’m not sure quite how well it works. ↩︎

Modern CSS is fun

2026-03-17T00:00:00Z

I’ve been doing a bunch of CSS tweaking recently, and keep being surprised by how nice modern CSS is to work with. As someone grey-haired enough to remember writing HTML without CSS, it’s amazing to think how far along web technology has come¹. I wanted to demonstrate some of the handy bits and pieces I’ve used recently.

:has

The :has selector allows you to effectively query for child elements. While a span will match a <span> within an <a>, a:has(span) will match an <a> that contains a <span>. This really shines when combined with more complex selectors, for example:

input {
    border-radius: var(--border-radius);

    &:has(+ .results:not(:empty)) {
        border-bottom-left-radius: 0;
        border-bottom-right-radius: 0;
    }
}

This is part of the styling for my film search box. When the search box is presented initially it has fully rounded corners. But when it is followed by a non-empty results element, it removes the rounding on the bottom corners so that the border continues in a straight line down into the results. You can see it in action below; just enter a few characters (like “the”) to get some results:

You could achieve the same effect by having JavaScript add a class to the <input> element, but I’ll take a CSS solution over a JavaScript solution any day.

Nested rules

You probably spotted this in the example above. It’s what finally made me switch from SCSS to plain CSS. If you have a rule for .foo and a rule for .foo .bar you can just nest them. Not only does it save repeating yourself an awful lot, it keeps everything organised nicely. For example, the CSS for my film list embeds looks like this:

a.film-list {
    display: grid;
    grid-template-areas: "header images" "description images" "meta images";
    grid-template-columns: 1fr auto;
    grid-template-rows: auto 1fr auto;
    row-gap: var(--small-space);

    @media (width <= 800px) {
        grid-template-areas: "header" "description" "images" "meta";
        grid-template-columns: 1fr;
        grid-template-rows: auto auto auto auto;
    }

    & + & {
        margin-top: var(--medium-space);
    }

    h3 {
        font-size: var(--font-size-xxlarge);
    }

    .description {
        /* ... */
    }
}

Everything is wrapped up in a single bundle, including the @media rules for changing the layout on smaller screens, the lovely little & + & rule that adds some extra margin if there are two lists in a row, etc. The & syntax refers to the parent selector, so & + & in this case is the same as a.film-list + a.film-list: it’s very handy! The best part about this is that it’s the exact same syntax as SCSS, so converting is easy². The styled element looks like this:

Watched films ranked

Every film I’ve watched since I started logging, ranked.

Obviously super subjective, and subject to change often and arbitrarily.

264 films

Media range syntax

Once again, you might have spotted this in the previous snippet. I’m not deliberately teasing things, I promise! Back in the day, you did media queries like so:

@media (min-width: 1000px) and (max-width: 2000px) {
    /* some rules that work for screens at least 1000px wide and at most 2000px wide */
}

I always hated this syntax. I always got muddled up as to whether I wanted “min” or “max”, and whether they were inclusive or not. It’s easy to reason through, but it never came naturally. Fortunately you can now just use ranges:

@media (1000px <= width <= 2000px) {
    /* some rules that work for screens at least 1000px wide and at most 2000px wide */
}

I find this style so much easier to write and understand.

Anchor positioning

Trying to dynamically position one element next to another used to exclusively fall within the purview of JavaScript. Fortunately anchor positioning fixes all this. I use this in the film search field I showed above:

.film-search {
    input {
        anchor-name: --film-search-box;
    }
    .results {
        position: absolute;
        position-anchor: --film-search-box;
        position-area: bottom center;
        position-visibility: always;
        width: anchor-size();
    }
}

This does lots of fun things. The .results element is anchored to the input field (via the --film-search-box name), and it’s positioned on the bottom, directly under the anchor. The position-area rule describes a 3x3 grid, with the anchor at the center, so top left would put it diagonally adjacent to the anchor. Next, position-visibility keeps the .results element visible when the anchor isn’t; otherwise when you scroll the anchor off the screen the results would immediately vanish. Finally, the special anchor-size() function makes the .results element take up the same exact width as the anchor.

All-in-all, this puts the results exactly where I want them, without having to deal with any JavaScript at all. I can see how it’d also be amazingly useful trying to do tooltips or other forms of ‘floating’ content too. You can even leave the positioning up to the browser, giving it hints about which order to try, or what property to optimise for (e.g. you can say “anchor to the left or right, whichever has more horizontal space”).

attr() function

This one blew my mind a little. In some of the elements on the site, I’ve added a little label to the top. It looks something like this:

It’s meant to just be a visual flourish, not a semantic title or anything, so I initially just added a ::before selector to each element, customising the content to have the right value. I didn’t like the duplication, though. Now, instead, I do this:

&::before {
    content: attr(data-title);
}

Each component defines its title in a data attribute: <div class="raised-box" data-title="an example">, and the attr function plucks it out and puts it in the content rule. It’s worth noting that this is only widely supported for the content rule, you can’t yet use it for colours or dimensions or other things. It still feels a bit magical, though. Like you’re making a reusable, customisable component with just HTML and CSS.

layers

I’d come across layers a few times, but I never found a need for them. It seemed like something you’d only really need with complicated design systems, or something. Then I had a problem and layers were the perfect solution!

The headings on this site have a whole bunch of CSS attached to them. Currently they look a bit like blue painter’s tape with handwriting on them. This style is applied to all headers, and then the various places that don’t want it had to manually reset everything. I got fed up with that, so decided to add a plain-header class which would “disable” the extra styling:

h2,
h3,
h4,
h5,
h6 {
    /* common styles for all headers, regardless */
    font-family: "Chris Hand", sans-serif;
    font-size: var(--font-size-xxlarge);
    color: var(--text-highlight-colour);
    margin: var(--medium-space) 0;
    line-height: 1;

    &:not(.plain-header) {
        /* do fancy stuff if it _doesn't_ have the .plain-header class */
        transform: rotate(-0.15deg);
        padding: var(--smedium-space);
        font-weight: 800;
        filter: drop-shadow(3px 3px 5px rgb(0, 0, 0));

        a {
            background: none;
            text-decoration-skip-ink: auto;
        }
    }
}

This might seem a bit backwards but I want the default to be styled, as those are far more common. I added this change, sprinkled around some “plain-header” classes, tidied up a lot of duplicate CSS, and things mostly worked. Mostly. Some things stopped working. In a few places the headers had slight tweaks, and they stopped working entirely.

It turns out in moving the rules from a plain h2 selector to a h2:not(.plain-header), I’d made them more specific. Previously a selector like h2.special would have been more specific, so its properties would override those from the less specific h2 selector. My first reaction was to try and hack around it. Changing all the overrides to body h2.special would make them more specific again, but I didn’t want to have to remember to do that forever more.

Instead, I defined some custom layers, and put the header definitions in one:

@layer reset, links, headings

@layer headings {
    h2,
    h3 {
        /* etc */
    }
}

The first @layer rule defines some layers that will be handled in a specific order: first the “reset” layer, then the “links” layer, then the “headings” layer, and then anything not in a layer after that. Rules in one layer don’t have to worry about beating the specificity of rules in another layer, because they’re handled separately.

Note that I couldn’t just put the headings in a layer and call it a day: their rules have to come after the CSS reset, and after the normal link styles, as headers have a bit of extra styling for nested links. If the CSS reset weren’t in a layer, then the * { margin: 0; padding: 0; } type reset would apply over the rules from the headings layer.

Using layers is definitely a bit fiddly, and is not necessary for a lot of sites, but it’s a much cleaner alternative to ugly specificity hacking.

Things I’m looking forward to

There are a few things that aren’t (widely) available yet, that particularly interest me:

sibling-index() and sibling-count()

These new functions are available in WebKit and Blink based browsers, but not Firefox. They give you the index of the element within its siblings, or the count of siblings. For the film list component above, I currently have this abomination for the overlapping posters:

&:nth-child(1) {
    z-index: 5;
    left: 0;
}
&:nth-child(2) {
    z-index: 4;
    left: calc(133px * var(--overlap) * 1);
}
&:nth-child(3) {
    z-index: 3;
    left: calc(133px * var(--overlap) * 2);
}
&:nth-child(4) {
    z-index: 2;
    left: calc(133px * var(--overlap) * 3);
}
&:nth-child(5) {
    z-index: 1;
    left: calc(133px * var(--overlap) * 4);
}

These could be replaced with something like:

z-index: calc(1 + sibling-count() - sibling-index());
left: calc(133px * var(--overlap) * (sibling-index() - 1));

As an added bonus, it would scale to any number of posters. index being 1-based not 0-based is a bit unfortunate as it makes using it in calculations awkward (see 1 offset in both of those rules!), but it’s leagues better than writing 5 separate rules.

random()

Currently only available in Safari. There are a few places where I’d like to have slight random variations of the style. Things like elements that are rotated slightly for aesthetics; they look a bit silly if they’re all identically positioned. I also randomise the icons and positions of my rating stars to break up the visual monotony. Here are a few examples:

Currently I do the stars by hardcoding a bunch of classes and having the backend randomly apply one when it generates the markup for stars. Being able to do it in CSS would be great, though.

Mixins

This one’s so far off it’s not even listed on caniuse.com yet. Mixins are another handy feature of SCSS, that allow you to define reusable blocks of rules, then import them when needed:

@mixin fancy-background {
    background: /*...*/;
}

.some-element {
    @include fancy-background;
}

#other-element {
    @include fancy-background;
}

This would be particularly useful if you can’t easily control the markup to add classes to everything. For example, my footnotes are rendered by a markdown plugin, and don’t easily have a way to add extra classes to them. To style it the same as another element, I currently duplicate a bunch of rules between them both. Mixins would allow me to define those rules once, and then import them in both places.

Aside from JavaScript, which seems to just endlessly reinvent new frameworks and ways to make the most sprawling dependency tree possible. ↩︎
It also means that if your website’s syntax highlighting library doesn’t seem to understand nested rules, you can just pretend your perfectly valid CSS is actually SCSS and it’ll magically work. Grumble, grumble. ↩︎

An interesting Tailscale + Docker gotcha

2026-01-29T00:00:00Z

As I’ve written about before, I use Tailscale for a lot of things. I thought I had it set up in a reasonably secure manner, but I recently noticed a problem.

I use Tailscale’s ACLs to limit what each node can access, based on the tags I apply to it. So an app node can’t access anything via Tailscale, while an integration or server node can access things tagged with either app or integration. This is expressed pretty simply in the Tailscale ACL JSON:

{
	"tagOwners": {
		// Servers that can be SSH'd into
		"tag:server": [],
		// Applications that are exposed on tailscale but never connect out
		"tag:app": [],
		// Things which talk to other services over tailscale (connecting to apps etc)
		"tag:integration": [],
	},
	"grants": [
		{
			// Users can access everything
			"src": ["autogroup:member"],
			"dst": ["*"],
			"ip":  ["*"],
		},
		{
			// Servers and integrations can access integrations and apps
			"src": ["tag:server", "tag:integration"],
			"dst": ["tag:integration", "tag:app"],
			"ip":  ["*"],
		},
	],
}

Over the past week I’ve been setting up a private Forgejo instance behind Tailscale, complete with an actions runner that runs things using a docker-in-docker container. I didn’t want the runner knowing anything about Tailscale, so I had it configured to speak to Forgejo direct over HTTP (forgejo:3000) instead of using full Tailscale HTTPS URL that I use when accessing it (http://git.example-net.ts.net/)¹.

Everything was going fine, until I forgot to do that translation… and it worked. My Forgejo action runners could access anything on my tailnet. I run several things on Tailscale that just have authentication turned off, on the basis that only authorised devices can access them. Things like the admin interface for this website. I definitely didn’t intend for any workflow I run on my git server to have access to edit my website!

This wasn’t just limited to Forgejo, either. Any docker container I was running could access the tailnet. In hindsight it’s fairly obvious why: the host is running Tailscale, connected as a node tagged with my server tag. That creates a tailscale0 interface, and automagically sets up iptables rules to route Tailscale traffic over the interface. Docker also automagically sets up iptables rules to bridge traffic, and apparently these two sets of rules interact in such a way that traffic from Docker containers is allowed to route via the tailscale0 interface.

I say it’s fairly obvious in hindsight — there’s no reason why Docker would special case any particular host interface after all — but it still feels pretty surprising. Because both bits of software inject their own iptables rules, I never really had a good mental model for how they interact. The host Tailscale node was a completely separate building block to Docker. It would be a pain to use either of them if they didn’t do these rules, but it’s also one of the reasons I don’t really like “magical” things².

There are lots of ways to fix this, but none of them feel particularly great. You can configure both Tailscale and Docker to not automatically fiddle with iptables and handle the rules yourself, but I really hate dealing with iptables³. As a stopgap I did hold my nose and add some iptables rules to drop traffic to the tailscale0 interface if it originated from the IP ranges that Docker was configured to use:

iptables -I DOCKER-USER -s 192.168.0.0/16 -o tailscale0 -j DROP
iptables -I DOCKER-USER -s 172.17.0.0/12 -o tailscale0 -j DROP

The DOCKER-USER chain is a nice little escape hatch; it comes before the main auto-generated DOCKER chain, and Docker leaves the rules in it alone.

So I added these rules, and felt pretty good about myself, and then… everything started breaking in weird ways. After some debugging I realised the problem was DNS⁴. The server’s DNS resolver is 100.100.100.100, a special Tailscale address. This is so that it can resolve tailnet hostnames via MagicDNS (and so I don’t have to configure my custom DNS servers manually on each device; Tailscale does it for me). My new iptables rules inadvertently dropped all the DNS packets coming from docker containers. D’oh.

Obviously the solution here is to double down and add MORE iptables rules:

iptables -I DOCKER-USER -s 192.168.0.0/16 -d 100.100.100.100 -o tailscale0 -j ACCEPT
iptables -I DOCKER-USER -s 172.17.0.0/12 -d 100.100.100.100 -o tailscale0 -j ACCEPT

This got DNS working again, but it all feels a bit gross. Not least because to actually make these persist you need to use iptables-save, and then you also get all the rules that both Docker and Tailscale have inserted. I came across a script to filter out the Docker ones, but… yuck⁵.

I realised a cleaner idea might just be to lock down what server tagged nodes could access within Tailscale itself. That way I can avoid touching iptables at all. It’s handy to be able to curl services from the host when debugging, but it’s not really necessary. So I removed that access, and… stuff broke again. I’m using my Forgejo instance as a registry for some of the docker images I run, so the docker daemon needs to be able to reach it. I ended up making a new tag for infrastructure, which can be accessed from server devices. This does still allow all the docker containers to reach Forgejo, but I already have it set up with appropriate access controls and public/private repository splits. Forgejo is a service designed to run publicly, so this seems a reasonable trade-off for convenience. I used the tests feature of Tailscale’s ACL config to make sure I’d got the rules right:

{
	"tests": [
		{
			// Servers can only access infrastructure
			"src":   "tag:server",
			"proto": "tcp",
			"allow": [
				"tag:infrastructure:8080",
			],
			"deny": [
				"100.84.16.43:8080",
				"me@example.com:8080",
				"tag:server:8080",
				"tag:app:8080",
				"tag:integration:8080",
			],
		},
	],
}

The whole situation still feels a bit messy. If I ever get around to switching to nftables I might loop back and manually craft some rules for routing traffic, instead of leaving Tailscale and Docker to do their own thing.

I discovered later on that logging into the container registry at forgejo:3000 actually issued a redirect to https://git.example-net.ts.net/ so this was all basically for naught… ↩︎
I didn’t use Tailscale’s MagicDNS for a long time just because the word “magic” put me off. Only when I eventually got around to learning how it worked, and seeing that it wasn’t really that magical under the hood, did I change my mind. ↩︎
nftables seems far better in lots of ways, but I can’t really be bothered migrating. Maybe next time I reimage the server for whatever reason… ↩︎
It’s always DNS… ↩︎
Again, nftables would almost certainly help here. It actually has (gasp) configuration files. But again, I really didn’t want to spend the time migrating. ↩︎

Making a font of my handwriting

2025-08-08T00:00:00Z

Recently I’ve been on a small campaign to try to make my personal website more… personal. Little ways to make it obvious it’s mine and personal, not just another piece of the boring corporate dystopia that is most of the web these days. I don’t quite want to fully regress to the Geocities era and fill the screen with animated under construction GIFs, but I do want to capture some of that vibe.

I’d added some bits and pieces along those lines: floating images in articles now look like they’re stuck to the page with sellotape, related post links have a wavy border that animates when you hover over them, and so on. Next, I wanted to change the heading fonts from a monospace font to something cursive, to resemble handwriting. Less terminal output, more handwritten letter. I couldn’t find one I liked, though. So why not make my own? It can’t be that hard, right?

Failing to do it myself

I set out to try to make the font myself using open source tools. After doing a bit of research, it seemed like the general approach was to create vectors of each character and then import them into a font editor. That seems to mean either Adobe Illustrator and FontLab (if you have too much money) or Inkscape and FontForge (if you like open source). I fall firmly into the latter category, so I grabbed my graphics tablet and opened Inkscape.

I wrote out my first three letters: capital A, B and C. Saved them in Inkscape, and attempted to import them into FontForge. Then I remembered one crucial thing that had slipped my mind: I absolutely loathe using FontForge. It’s a bit like when you open an old version of GIMP and get a bunch of weird looking windows floating all over the place; it feels like you’re fighting against the tool to do even the most basic operations. The difference is I have cause to edit images a lot more than I edit fonts, and GIMP has actually significantly improved their UI over the years.

Here are the rough steps I went through with FontForge:

Launch Font Forge. It shows a weird bit of art in one window, and an open file dialog in another.
I don’t want to open a file, so I close that dialog. The program exits.
Relaunch Font Forge, and realise that within the “Open Font” dialog is a “New” button. Click it.
Get to the standard font-editing UI. Right-click on the “A” looking for a way to import an SVG. Don’t see one.
Click around a bit, exploring the menus. Everything feels a bit off. You can’t open one menu then hover over the next to see its content, like basically every UI toolkit in existence. I think FontForge has eschewed QT and GTK in favour of doing things itself.
Find the “Import” option in the File menu. Hope it’s for a single glyph not the whole font.
A file picker opens. Again it’s all a bit off from normal desktop conventions. Try to resize it, and just get blank grey space at the bottom.
Type the absolute path I want to go to in the text field.
Get a dialog saying “Not a bdf file /home/chris/etc”. Press OK.
Get a dialog saying “Could not find a bitmap font in”. Press OK.
Press Ctrl+L to see if that lets me enter a path. Click everything in the dialog to try to find a way to enter a path. Get annoyed. Give up. Click through folder-by-folder to get to where I want to be.
Get to the folder and don’t see any files. Change the format to “SVG”. Double-click the newly-visible SVG file.
Get a dialog saying “You must select a glyph before you can import an image into it”. Press OK.
The import dialog goes away, having not imported.
Select the glyph in the main tool area, then repeat the File→Import dance.
It’s actually there now! Open the glyph in the editor and see it’s a complete mess of Bézier curves. I can’t click what I want without accidentally moving a handle for an adjacent curve.
Rage-quit.

I’m sure FontForge is less anger inducing once you’re used to it. And you definitely could use it to build a font like this if you had much more patience than me. I’d had enough of death-by-a-thousand-paper-cuts though.

I briefly tried Inkscape’s built-in support for making an SVG font. It annoyed me a lot less, but it’s fiddly: it seemed like each glyph had to be a single path, so you had to convert the glyphs to paths, then merge them correctly. If you merge them incorrectly then the wrong bits of your letters end up filled (like the inside of the ‘B’). Path manipulation is getting towards the limit of my knowledge of vector editing, and it took a bit of trial and error for each letter that had more than a single stroke. I didn’t fancy doing that for every letter.

I’m usually a big advocate of open source, but this was one of those painful times when it feels like it just falls short. Clunky, painful UI and processes where commercial tools just let you get on with your work.

You can exchange money for goods and services

When I’d been looking for open source tutorials, I found many mentions of a closed source, hosted tool: Calligraphr. It has a free version with limitations (no ligatures, no variations, 75 glyphs per font), and a pro version for £8/month. I’d normally balk at the idea of a subscription for this, but they have the perfect answer: you can make a one-time payment, and your account automatically downgrades back to free after a month. It’s not a hidden option, either, it’s the most prominent button on the upgrade page. That made me happy to give them £8 to play around with the service for a month.

Calligraphr works by having you print templates, write out the letters, then scan them in. It does some magical processing to extract the glyphs, provides tools to tidy them up, align them, etc, and then produces a TTF file for you. You can see some of my completed templates here:

Most of the templates I used for the font

Calligraphr has a nice UI to generate the templates, allowing you to select which glyphs to include. I added the “minimal English”, “basic punctuation” and “Ligatures” sets. That gave me four pages to fill out, and I did them all twice. That let me filter out versions that didn’t work well, and have variants for some letters so the font wasn’t too repetitive. Later on, I went back and added some custom ligatures based on blog post titles that didn’t look quite right: “Re”, “To”, “ers”, “ey”, “hy”, “ra”, “re” and “ty”. Ligatures like this help it look more natural: when we write we don’t just stamp out identical letters regardless of their surroundings, instead they will connect to their neighbours, or overlap slightly, or even share a stroke.

I filled these templates in with a Sharpie, as I wanted a fairly informal, scrap-booky look, and it would also give good solid shapes that should be easy to pick out of the template. I scanned them with the “Scan Document” function on my iPhone, and uploaded the PDFs to Calligraphr.

Iterating and tweaking

The Calligraphr UI allows you to preview the font, but I found it a lot more useful to just download a copy and use it on a local copy of my website. That let me test it with real text, and see how it’d look at the different font sizes I use on the site.

The first version was not great. Despite the guidelines on the template, I apparently wasn’t good at sticking to them. Some letters were floating way off the baseline, and some were sunken below. When those opposites met it looked terrible. Fortunately Calligraphr has a pretty easy tool to slide each letter up and down, and scale it up or down if needed, and you can see it next to other letters as you do it. It took a little bit of time to go through all the variants of all the letters, but the next version looked a lot better.

Another tweak I ended up doing was reducing the spacing between letters. The defaults Calligraphr uses are probably good for a blocky font, but I wanted to put the letters close together to give it more of a joined-up look. Again, this is an easy tool to use, you just drag the sides in or out as desired. While these tweaking steps were probably as fiddly as some of the Inkscape steps I refused to do earlier, they’re a lot more rewarding as you see things improving with each one. It’s a lot easier for me to commit time and effort to improving something that’s already working reasonably, than put that time and energy into an unknown.

Later, I noticed that occasionally there would be a huge gap in a title. Not “the kerning is slightly off” but “there’s enough room to park a bus”. It took me a while to figure out what was happening: a couple of glyphs hadn’t been isolated perfectly and had picked up a few pixels from the template lines at the edge of their boxes. That meant the glyph had a width that covered the actual written glyph, a big gap, and then the rogue marks. At first, I fixed this by just adjusting the width, but that left the little pixels floating awkwardly down-sentence. The proper fix was to use the editing tool and simply delete them, and then Calligraphr snapped the width back to what it should be.

These iterations took a while to do, but I just dipped in and out occasionally over the course of a week, so it didn’t actually feel like too much work. I quite enjoy the process of refining things, too.

Result and a surprise

If you’re viewing this post on my website¹, you can see the font in the headers, captions, and a few other places. Here’s how it compares to my actual handwriting:

My handwriting vs my handwriting font

It’s not close enough to forge documents, but I think it definitely gets across my style, and that’s exactly what I wanted. It’s surprisingly legible even at smaller font sizes — I think the weight of the Sharpie helps here — and at £8 and a bit of manual work was a lot more economical than spending days wresting with open source tools.

A few weeks after I put the finishing touches on the font, I got an e-mail from Calligraphr. As my account had lapsed back to the free version, I was no longer eligible for the “server-side backup” feature. So what did they do? They e-mailed me an exported copy! It’s a JSON file with the properties of each glyph and a base64 encoded image. Not only can I re-upload this to Calligraphr if I resubscribe, I can probably hook something up to edit it should I ever need to. I’m blown away by how pro-user Calligraphr’s business practices are. They’re up-front about pricing, don’t try to get you stuck on an auto-renewing subscription, and automatically export your data. It’s like a breath of fresh air compared to the barrage of dark patterns that other websites foist on us. If you want to make this kind of font, I’d definitely recommend them just because of how nice they are.

And I haven’t changed everything since writing this post… ↩︎