I’m enjoying a two-month sabbatical this summer. It’s been great so far! I’ve used almost half of the time to cycle through the entire Great Britain and let my body work physically and my mind rest (usually, the opposite is true). And now that I’m back, I’ve switched focus to a few personal projects that I have really wanted to work on for a while but never found time.

It’s a tradition of this blog that I write down impressions on my way back from Amsterdam conferences (addendum a week later: unfortunately I took a flight this time, too short to complete this entry, and it had to wait until I caught up). This time, it was Dutch Clojure Days 2022, my first post-COVID full-size conference and the first DCD I’ve ever been to. And, hopefully, not last. I know I want to come back.

This post was originally published in Polish. This translation has been slightly edited to explain some details that are likely to be obscure for people outside Poland.

Fortuna imperatrix mundi

I wouldn’t make a good emperor of the universe.

I bought two computers this year: a beefy Macbook Pro with M1 Pro and a GPD Micro PC.

The MBP is meant to be my mobile workstation, to satisfy all my needs whenever I need to work outside of my home office (at home, I’m still mostly using a two-year-old Intel-based Mac Mini). The GPD was a caprice. Perhaps I’m at the stage in life when well-off men buy themselves Ferraris to fend off a mid-life crisis; or perhaps I just have a separate heart for small computers.

I’m enjoying a week-long vacation. In addition to other vacationy things (a trip to Prague, yay!), I wanted to do some off-work programming Just For Fun™ and revisit one of my dormant pet projects, to see if I can make some progress.

Intro

Everyone ¹ and their dog ² loves Git. I know I do. It works, it’s efficient, it has a brilliant data model, and it sports every feature under the sun. In 13 years of using it, I’ve never found myself needing a feature it didn’t have. Until recently.

Before

It seems so obvious in hindsight. Here in Poland, people have been guessing it ever since the pandemic breakout: in private conversations, in random threads on social media, in comments under governmental information outlets. It seemed a matter of time before someone came up with something like this. In fact, on one Sunday evening in October, I found myself flabbergasted that apparently no one yet has.

In my previous post, “Clojure as a dependency”, I’ve presented the results of some toy research on Clojure version numbers seen in the wild. I’m a big believer in reproducible research, so I’m making available a Git repo that contains code you can run yourself to reproduce these results. This post is an experience report from writing that code.

I have a shameful confession to make: I have long neglected an open-source library that I maintain, clj-tagsoup.

This would have been less of an issue, but this is my second-most-starred project on GitHub. Granted, I don’t feel a need for it anymore, but apparently people do. I wish I had spent some time reviewing and merging the incoming PRs.

Indentation matters when reading Clojure code. It is the primary visual cue that helps the reader discern the code structure. Most Clojure code seen in the wild conforms to either the community style guide or the proposed simplified rules; the existing editors make it easy to reformat code to match them.