Back in the late 1990’s I started to collect manuals which I found online. They would become invaluable to me in later years as I would often refer to them to work out how stuff worked and how it could potentially be repaired. Now, having sifted through 30-odd DVD-ROM’s full of files (finding some hopelessly awful photos of oneself on the way), I’ve decide to put these manuals and service files out there for anyone who wants them. The list is below, and if you want anything, then please get in tough through the website and I’ll send them on. In time I will probably stick them on some cloud space and let you help yourselves. All files PDF unless stated. STILL UPDATING THE LIST – MORE TO COME!
Apple Manuals & Guides
Apple eMac (Early 2004) User Guide
Apple iBook G4 (Mid-2005) User Guide
Apple iMac (Intel-Based) Mid-2007 User Guide
Apple iPad Nano Features Guide
Electronics Projects
51 High-Tech Practical Jokes For The Evil Genius
Electronic Soundmaker & Computer Music (ES&CM) Cover Cassette Audio Files
October 1984 (Budd & Eno)
November 1984 (Vince Clarke Samples)
December 1984 (Korg Expander & PS-6100 Demos)
January 1985 (Tangerine Dream, TR-707 Demo)
February 1985 (Cocteau Twins)
March 1985 (Sharpe & Numan, Frank Chickens)
April 1985 (Heaven 17, DX5 Demo)
May 1985 (Marc Almond, Mad Professor)
June 1985 (Blancmange, Michael Nyman)
July 1985 (Ian Boddy, CZ-5000 Demo)
August 1985 (Mark Shreeve, Eyeless in Gaza)
September 1985 (Eurythmics, DX21 Demo)
Synthesiser & Drum Machines Manuals & Service Guides
It’s taken me quite a long time to get my hands on my first Cambridge. The ever-genial Dave from Retonthenet has known for a little while that I collect vintage tech, and approached me via Twitter saying that there was one for sale. The price was absolutely right and was in my possession in a very short space of time (the packaging was superb and would have easily protected a much-less-fragile item than this).
The Cambridge was introduced by Sinclair Radionics in August 1973. In those days you could probably buy it from Boots, Lasky’s and Timothy Whites, as well as directly from Sinclair in Cambridge. It came as a kit or pre-assembled. There were seven models in the range: there was the original four-function Cambridge, Cambridge Scientific, Cambridge Memory, two Cambridge Memory %’s, Cambridge Scientific Programmable and Cambridge Universal.
The Cambridge followed on from the Executive, Sinclair’s very first calculator in 1972. a major factor in the success of the Cambridge was its low price – £32.95 assembled or £27.45 as a kit (which was basically a case and a plastic bag full of resistors). It was still doing the rounds by the Summer of 1977, where the price had literally crashed to £8.95, a fifth of its original price. The manual that came with it was quite extensive. It weighs less than 3.5 ounces and measured 50 x 111 x 8mm. It ran on 4 AAA batteries. It was built using the cheapest components available to man, which a) kept the cost down and b) led to some real common failures. The switch contacts often failed, meaning you couldn’t turn the device off. The switch contacts were made of nickel coated in tin rather than gold, so an oxide layer would build up across the insulating barrier when the switch was repeatedly used.
The display was an eight-digit LED made by National Semiconductor with a five-digit mantissa and two-digit exponent. Later models required such a huge power draw that the four AAA’s were replaced by a 9v PP3, meaning the battery compartment was a lot bigger and required a different battery cover.
Battery compartment label says you should use Ever Ready or BEREC batteries. I always thought BEREC stood for ‘British Ever Ready Electrical Company’, so isn’t that the same thing? Note the Sinclair branded motherboard. Date code is probably obscured by the label. ‘Popular Science’ magazine, on page 69 of its January 1974 issue, branded the Cambridge the ‘Skinny Mini’.
My sincere thanks again to Dave and the chaps at Retonthenet – rest-assured I’ll be badgering them often to see what other beauties they have for sale. Meantime, I implore you to take a look at their great website, and hopefully you’ll be able to get your hands on some bargains, too. And tell them Steve sent you …
I had great fortune recently finding this little gem on the excellent Oxfam Online Shop, which I heartily recommend you check out. You never know what hidden gem you may discover from the 165 nationwide stores that are listing, and over 100,000 items in total to choose from.
I’ve been lucky enough to own a few Sinclair calculators in the past, but this is my first Enterprise. Released in 1977, the 8-digit LED scientific programmable calculator was based around a single transistor and three National Semiconductor chips, namely the MM57146AEG/N, MM57126N and DS8874N. Measuring 65mm x 135mm x 23mm and running on a 9v PP3 battery, the Enterprise cost around £25 in 1978. We know this model was purchased in a Branch of Boots the Chemist on 4 November 1978 (maybe an early Christmas present) … I won’t say where, but let’s just say ‘oop North!’
There was another (non-programmable) Enterprise with a bigger LED array, but other than the lack of programming functions it was fundamentally the same.
As we know from history, stuff built in the seventies in the UK was generally rubbish (think of ‘Buckaroo’ and British Leyland). The screws inside the Enterprise look like they’re made of zinc, and somehow (but the mercy of God, probably), they haven’t corroded into a pile of mushy metal. There was a charming story about the Sinclair Black Watch. The watch itself was so badly made, that more often than not the casing itself wouldn’t hold together. The plastic used was unglueable, and it was redesigned in order for the shell halves to be clipped together. This didn’t work, so Sinclair gave up and subbed the whole thing out to a contractor. Much later on, Sinclair received a Black Watch in the post with a note from the Contractor saying “We’ve sorted the problem!” Inside the packaging was a Black Watch with a half-inch bolt through it!
To change the battery, you have to take off the entire front of the calculator!
I’ve seen another Enterprise elsewhere online with a serial number very close to the one I have, produced a year earlier. I’m guessing this meant they didn’t manufacture them very quickly, despite the poor quality of the construction.
Sinclair design was always a favourite of mine, from the Microvision TV to the hifi equipment they briefly made and, of course, the Black Watch and other calculators in the range (we’ll forget the C5, alright?) The stark black and white casing and keypad, with the sinister red plastic and LED array were just something else.
There’s a socket on the side for the 9v DC adaptor, which was thankfully included with my purchase. Boxed too, which was a nice touch.
The calculator was shipped with the ubiquitous 70s and 80s leatherette pouch!
This is probably the most complete calculator I’ve ever owned. The paperwork that accompanied it was astonishing, starting with the original Guarantee slip. I’ve Photoshopped out most of the address.
Here’s the READ THIS FIRST! leaflet that also accompanied it. This little sheet quickly shows you how to program the calculator, with key input commands showing you how to convert centigrade to fahrenheit, and how to calculate mortgage repayments. To prove just how old this thing is, it calculates an £8,500 mortgage at an interest rate of 11% over 25 years. (It’s £84 a month if you haven’t already worked it out on your iPhone!)
The Operating Instructions Manual is printed on thin paper but runs to 44 pages. That’s included too.
The most interesting part of the collection despite the calculator is the three-volume Program Library. These edge-screw bound cards help you program everything, from random number generator to intercepts of a line, mortgage repayments to resistors in parallel calculations. All three volumes are completely intact and a very nice addition.
Finally, and not something that would have been shipped with the calculator, is a curious little black book entitled Pocket Reference Tables. The leatherette covered book has ‘For Private Circulation’ printed in gold script on the cover, a gift (reasonably obviously) from the ‘Short Loan & Mortgage Co Ltd’. It includes pages of calculation charts for Loan Charges, Changes in the Bank Rate since 1929 and Interest Rates. Some hand-written notes inside the book make me believe the book dates from 1965. It’s definitely pre-decimal. It belonged to Mr Charlton, as did the calculator, as his name is thoughtfully printed inside on a red Dymo tape!
I love this calculator. It works perfectly. All the buttons are present and working. All segments of that cherry red LED are working. All paperwork, manuals and hardware is in superb condition. Yeah, tatty boxes and slightly dog-eared manuals but so what? I’m not a fan of history. I see a lot of it as irrelevant. Unless we’re talking tech.
The Speccy is 30! It was released as the interest in the ZX81 was wearing off. The Spectrum featured sound and “hi-res” graphics. During its life cycle, the Spectrum (in its many guises) sold around five million units. It also offered a version of Sinclair BASIC, a language of which hundreds of thousands of users were already familiar.
The thin Bauhaus-inspired design was slimmer and sleeker than anything that had gone before, but the most impressive thing was the price: £125 for the basic 16k model, or fifty quid more for the 48k version.
Clive Sinclair believed the low price was absolutely crucial.
Rival Acorn Computers had beaten him to a contract to build a tie-in computer for an educational BBC television series which started in January 1982. It seemed the best way to overcome that promotional advantage was to undercut the BBC Micro’s £299/£399 charge – and the strategy worked.
This model had a minimalist design without the Sinclair logo, and branded the device the ZX82.
It also protected the Spectrum from the higher-specced, but more expensive, Commodore 64 which was unable to dislodge Sir Clive’s computers from being the UK’s number one selling computer.
Although some bad business decisions forced the sale of Sinclair Research’s computer business to Alan Sugar’s Amstrad in 1986, the Spectrum remains a 1980’s icon.
Sir Clive was the face of the company, but credit is also due to the original ZX Spectrum’s engineer, Richard Altwasser, and its industrial designer Rick Dickinson.
Whoa! Space bar! A later design attempted to promote the idea of colour more strongly but did not include the iconic rainbow flash.
In an interview for the BBC, original Spectrum designer Rick Dickinson and engineer Richard Altwasser talk of the history of the machine.
How much of an effect did hitting Sir Clive’s price target have on the design?
Dickinson: Cost has always been very high on the agenda with all Sinclair products no matter how far back you go and Clive knew exactly where a product had to be priced.
Literally every penny was driven out where possible. So one of the consequences was that we would very rarely take an existing technology and simply mimic or buy it, but instead would engineer another way of doing it.
So for example with the Spectrum keyboard we minimised it from several hundred components in a conventional moving keyboard to maybe four or five moving parts using a new technology.
Altwasser: On the electronics side we needed to keep the silicon real estate as small as possible and continued to use the very cost effective ZX80 processor. Much of that was achieved by having a very good BASIC interpreter design that could be kept in very little ROM memory space.
This handmade model reveals that industrial designer Rick Dickinson toyed with the idea of a silver finish after adopting the rainbow flash.
Demand was phenomenal – within three months there was a 30,000-strong backlog of orders despite it initially being restricted to mail order. Was the scale of its popularity a surprise?
Dickinson: No matter how much history one might have with successful products like the ZX80 and 81 there is always a niggling doubt in one’s mind that to come out with something new and significantly different is a risk. I think that we were all overwhelmed by the demand and the number of products that were sold.
Altwasser: I think with hindsight the BBC did an awful lot to popularise the use of micro-computers, and if we consider the fact the Spectrum was selling for half the price of the BBC Micro we shouldn’t be surprised it was very successful.
I clearly recall having discussions that a time would come when every home would have a computer. We could see the applications and uses for everyday purposes.
We’d have these discussions with friends and family and people outside the computer club in Cambridge and people would scoff and say: ‘Why on earth would a family want a computer in the home?’ The success was I think beyond anyone’s expectation. But perhaps with hindsight it wasn’t totally unpredictable.
London's Science museum has set up Mr Dickinson's drawing board to look like it would have done 30 years ago.
The success was also driven by videogame sales – the machines were originally marketed as an educational tool but you ensured titles were ready at launch.
Altwasser: Whilst as engineers we were hoping that people would turn on the computer and find out within a few minutes they could write a simple programme and become programmers, clearly a lot of people wanted to use the computer for playing games.
By providing them with computer programmes that they could either read from a little book and type in or load from a cassette, I think that we bridged the gap between those that wanted to learn a little bit about programming – perhaps starting with someone else’s programmes and making modifications – and those that wanted to primarily just have a usable game.
Dickinson: In the earlier days there was a mild disappointment that we were launching computers and not games machines but I think the games market eventually turned our machines into games products.
Once the company accepted that, Sir Clive realised that it was the clear route to one’s bread and butter. There were a lot of companies set up writing games for the Spectrum and we also approached companies and writers specifically to make our own in-house games.
Not all the feedback was positive. Some described the keys of the original models of feeling like dead flesh.
Dickinson: I love reactions like dead flesh – you could certainly relate it to that. People seem to forget what they’ve paid for an instrument or a product. At the time there was probably no other way around it to meet the cost targets.
Even if some sort of miracle we had theoretically designed a better product I don’t suppose for a moment it would have been any more successful and that we would have sold any more. I don’t think there was anything I would change or have since regretted.
The initial run of ZX Spectrums opted for light grey rubber keys, but they became blue-grey in later models.
Another point of contention was that when you wrote code in BASIC you had to find the right key combination to trigger a command rather than letting the user type in the instruction letter by letter. That was changed in later models.
Altwasser: This was a concept that had been pioneered by Sir Clive in earlier models and had proved to be very successful. I think what it achieved with the Spectrum was the ability for a beginner to enter programmes much more quickly than if they had to type in all of the individual letters.
In hindsight maybe the disadvantage of this was that we did add a lot of different keyword functions to different keys, so using the less frequently used keywords was a little bit complex.
Talk of computers today and many people think of games consoles or PCs that run ready-made applications. Even in UK classrooms programming fell out of fashion. That appears to be changing – but how much was lost?
Altwasser: I’m an engineer so I’m delighted at the thought that people are going to be encouraged through the availability of the Raspberry Pi to learn to do programming. If I look at the capability of that machine – the graphics pixel rate is 140 times greater, the processor speed is 200 times greater, there’s thousands of times more memory.
So you would think the speed and power of that device compared with the ZX Spectrum gives it every possible advantage. But my impression is that the attention span of young people over the last 30 years has probably not lengthened.
What is important is not the technical speed of the device but the speed with which a user can get their computer out of a box and type in their first programme.
Dickinson: I concur totally with what Richard has just said. Although many Spectrum were sold for games, there were a lot of people who really gripped what all this was about – and what Clive was interested in in the first place – learning about programming and what you can do with programs.
Clearly we’ve spawned a generation which is now quite mature and has produced software for the many products that surround us.
Although Sir Clive sold the Sinclair brand to Amstrad, he went onto release a laptop-style computer - the Z88 - in 1988.
Sir Clive sold out to Amstrad in 1986 and after a couple of revisions – involving the addition of a built-in cassette player and then a disc drive – production ceased in 1990. There are still some people who continue to code for it using emulators on PCs. But why do you think it ultimately failed?
Altwasser: I think I’d question the premise that the Sinclair model failed. Having a product lifetime of nearly 10 years and selling 5 million units – which I think is more than three times the volume sold for the BBC Micro – I don’t think you can characterise that as failing.
I’ve been working in the computer industry recruiting software developers for more than a decade, and I’m continually meeting people who cut their teeth on a ZX Spectrum.
Part of that legacy is that we now have a generation of computer programmers who first got hooked by opening a box, looking at a screen and within a minute saying ‘hey I’ve done something’, within five minutes they’d written their first programme and then they were spending every evening and weekend programming. I think the legacy of that is to be seen in the software engineering population of this country.
Dickinson: I am rather sad that there isn’t son of Spectrum around and the death of that was purely down to commercial aspects and the sale of the business to Amstrad which is well documented.
Sinclair products were born out of staggering innovation and clever shortcuts to get things into ever smaller packages at lower costs. Companies like Amstrad – which I have also worked for on a freelance basis – were more about taking existing technologies and finding special ways to stitch them together.
The Sinclair approach was far riskier as it was going out there and pretty well creating new markets. There was a purity in way the Sinclair products operated – raw access with pure simple code. And I think a lot of current day enthusiasts find that quite exciting compared to today’s offerings.
Google, too, have got in on the act by creating an 8-Bit Google Doodle for the homepage:
I love the Spectrum. My original Spectrum had a serial number within the first 1000, I seem to remember. I think I’ve owned pretty-much every model there ever was. I had a QL, z88 and ZX81 in my time too. But the Spectrum was always the favourite, especially ahead of the Commodore 64. Here’s some close-ups of my Spectrum+
Wikipedia’s excellent Spectrum Page can be found HERE. It will save me waffling on for ages about how many different versions of the Spectrum there were!
Oh, and don’t tell me you never went into WHSmiths on a Saturday morning just to do this before running away …
Abysmal touch-sensitive keyboard (although it was an improvement on that of the ZX80)
The original press advertisement. CLICK TO ENLARGE.
You’ll all probably remember Saturday mornings in early 1981, running down to WHSmith to have a go on the new computers that had just arrived, and doing this:
And then we’d all giggle with glee as the word BUM scrolled across and down the screen. Remember kids, that semicolon at line 10 was VITAL.
TechBeach 
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