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The sands of time
By Sean Carruthers, posted 1/16/2003

20-Sinclair-ZX81 Fifteen years ago, I was partway through my first year at university. My experience with computers up until at that point was a mixed bag, partly educational and partly home-based. At the time, computers were not quite so integrated into my life, but were still an exciting novelty.

When I was about 12 years old, I took a summer course at Brandon University called Computers for Kids; they led us into the computer lab and plunked us all down in front of Commodore PETs. In a way, they were the iMacs of their day: they were found in schools all over the place, they had an all-in-one design, and the floppy was optional (instead, we did most of our file storage with a cassette deck). The graphics were pretty bad and the screens glowed a slightly chilling green, but at the time I thought I had discovered nirvana. In follow-up courses I learned that the computers could be networked together (some of us spent more time sending each other messages than actually listening to the teacher), and that you could use the computers for serious mathematical work. I was hooked.

Of course, it wasn't long before we got a computer at home to keep my interest going. My dad ordered the Sinclair ZX81, one of the first computers aimed at the consumer: it was easy to assemble (if you chose to go that route), it was fairly easy to use, plus it was inexpensive. It hooked up to the TV, too, which meant we didn't have to buy a whole lot of equipment to get started. The keyboard was innovative, featuring a number of soft-touch keys that not only acted as a standard keyboard, but were also pre-programmed to give you an entire word or command in the appropriate places, making it easier than ever to write your own programs. It came with only 1 KB of memory onboard--thankfully my dad sprung for the weighty 16 KB RAM module, which clamped onto an edge connector on the rear.

While the ZX81 was a great way to start out, it was certainly limited--the graphics were black and white only, and the sound quality was very limited.

Shortly afterwards, I stepped up to the Texas Instruments TI-99/4A, which had polyphonic sound and a colour display. Even better, you could also attach joysticks or insert program cartridges, just like the Atari 2600. While the Sinclair was fun to goof around on, the TI-99/4A actually felt like real computing to me: it came in a brushed metal casing, the keyboard felt good to type on, and there was 16 KB of RAM already onboard, with room for even more expansion. I was actually so happy with the TI-99/4A that I didn't pay much attention to the Vic-20 or the Commodore 64, even at the height of their popularity. Again, I could use the TV in our basement for both the picture and the sound, and I spent hours and hours programming primitive driving games, graphics displays, and simple musical numbers. But alas, even this was not to last.

20-TI-99-4a

Through my junior high days, I supplemented my at-home computer explorations with semi-regular visits to the SuperPET machines located in the school's main office. (Part of this was for the fun of learning, but I have to admit that a big chunk of it was the fact that someone had figured out a way to get the SuperPETs to play a fairly faithful version of Space Invaders.)

When I finally headed to high school, even that became kid stuff when I discovered how fun it was to play around on a VAX system; I even stayed after school in order to spend time trying to hack around the school's network, only leaving when the janitor finally hoofed us out.

When the first issue of The Computer Paper hit the streets, I was most likely sitting in a class at Brandon University, taking my first computer science course from an instructor who kept referring to himself as "your old uncle Gwynfor." At that point, I was still at least a year away from buying a Commodore Amiga 500 (complete with 1 MB of RAM and no hard drive). I was even further away from buying my first IBM-based PC, which was the first of my Windows-based computers.

I've gone through so many machines and learned so much since then, but it's all been a blur. I can only imagine what will be on my desk when The Computer Paper celebrates its 30th anniversary.

Happy 15th, TCP! It's been great to spend part of that time with you.

By Sean Carruthers