Sinclair MK14

As with so many Sinclair projects, 1979's MK14 was a miniature computer with an equally diminutive price tag: £39.95. Notable for bringing cheap computing into our homes, those of us used to current technology may well be disappointed by the MK14's specification. Rest assured that while little more than a circuit board with a keypad and calculator-style nine-digit display, the MK14 was cheap and groundbreaking, simply by virtue of allowing anyone - not just those computer scientist boffins - to get their hands on a real, live computer. Selling over 50,000 in its time, the MK14 has since become incredibly rare, and a working MK14 is highly-prized amongst Sinclair collectors.

This single board computer didn't even have a case - there simply wasn't the option available. A tall, narrow circuit board held the various chips, which varied depending on the skill and enthusiasm of the owner: the MK14 came in kit form, so while every MK14 featured the SC/MP 2 processor, the amount of memory on there varied from 256 bytes all the way up to 640. How did this work? 256 bytes came as standard, but another 256 could be soldered onto the board, giving a grand total of half a kilobyte. And if 512 bytes just weren't enough, the optional 8154 I/O controller chip provided a further 128 bytes. In addition to this overwhelming bounty of RAM, the MK14 was also equipped with 512 bytes of ROM. The MK14 also had two edge connectors, one for attaching a better keyboard to the machine, the other simply allowing the user access to the processor's signals: an expansion port, in other words; the fore-runner to the similar feature of the ZX series.

Sir Clive was already into membrane keyboards at this point, and the 20-key membrane has much in common with the dodgy input methods that plagued early users of the ZX80, ZX81 and ZX Spectrum computers. Just to the left of the keypad was a red push button, which would reset the machine. The twenty keys were shared out into the sixteen characters necesssary for hexadecimal input, while the remaining four keys were assigned as 'Go', 'Mem', 'Abort' and 'Term'. 'Go' began program execution at the current address, 'Mem' moved on to the next address and allowed the user to assign it a hexadecimal value. 'Abort' moved to address entry mode, where the user could quickly change to a different address, rather than cycling through, and 'Term' provided a data entry mode, where memory contents could be quickly changed using the keypad.

At the heart of the MK14 was National Semiconductor's SC/MP 2 - the Simple Cost-effective Micro-Processor, running at 4.4MHz. Intended for use in control applications, the SC/MP chip was cheap, and perfect for learning about programming. Interaction with the user took place through a nine-digit display, although the machine required some hardware modification to actually use the ninth digit.

Veterans of the early ZX computers will remember how the processor would halt the display routines whilst calculating. Although the MK14 could be expanded to use a CRT, it also suffered from this peculiar but necessary design feature. Nevertheless, a 32x16 text mode and 64x64 graphics mode, although monochrome, was impressive for the time, and undoubtedly paved the way for the ZX80.

C5

'Sir Clive may seem an unlikely candidate for the Henry Ford of the 80s but if nobody ever took those risks, we would still be riding horses. There is a lot to praise in the C5, and many questions which only experience can answer in full. In the meantime, you have to admire his nerve.' Sinclair User review, Issue 36.

The tenth of January, 2005, saw the 20th birthday of the Sinclair C5, a revolutionary electric vehicle. Looking at the technology behind the C5, the vision that was the foundation for its creation, it's hard to believe the simple truth: The Sinclair C5 was a complete commercial disaster.

Let's go back to 1985. Sir Clive Sinclair was considered to be a genius. His entrepreneurial ventures into the world of electronics had quickly brought him to the attention of the world, and his products were, in a nutshell, intensely popular. Calculators, watches and miniature televisions were introduced, often in kit form, from Sinclair Research as early as 1975. By 1980 he had branched out into microcomputing, and 1982 saw him branch into home computing. The ZX Spectrum, hot on the heels of the ZX80 and 81, had already changed the world.

By 1985, Clive was into a new game. Recent changes to the British road laws included legislation concerning electrically-assisted cycles. Provided the vehicle was incapable of exceeding 15 miles per hour, anyone above the age of 14 was welcome to drive it on British roads. No insurance, no tax, no crash helmet and no driving licence required; a tempting prospect for some, that's if you didn't mind piloting a milk float. But, no - classed as a 'pedal-assisted tricycle', the Sinclair C5 was designed to fill that niche, whilst netting the newly-created Sinclair Vehicles as much money as possible in the process.

Advance speculation was rife. Woolworth's lent backing, as did the Electricity Council, for whom the idea of a rechargable electric vehicle was more than a little exciting. The occasional leak provided rumour-mills with enough information to speculate with admirable accuracy, and a much-publicised launch took place.

The result? Utter disaster. Held in the middle of winter, the C5's batteries performed badly in the near-freezing temperatures, and its wheels skated alarmingly in the snow. Safety and advertising standards bodies rose to the challenge, and the press were not slow to indulge in a frenzy of mocking. To this day, the C5 is ably villified at a moments notice, and even the enthusiastic user groups that still exist today are hard pressed to defend its many flaws. It was quickly noted that the manufacturers of the C5's motor also produced large volumes of washing-machine motors, and since nobody cared to mention that the company in question also produced the motors which power torpedoes the C5 was all too easy to mock.

Sales took a nosedive and production followed suit. After only a few months, with an impressive-sounding but ultimately disappointing 17,000 units sold mainly within the UK, the C5 project came to an end. Sir Clive took the 8.6 million pound loss squarely on the chin, shut down Sinclair Vehicles and moved his attention and enthusiasm to other projects. The intended follow-ups, the C10 and C15 were, sadly, never to see the light of day.

Technical Specifications

The Sinclair C5, at its simplest, was a 99lb, battery-powered, one-seater tricycle with a white, plastic body. Original specifications called for a radical new form of battery, since a heavy, traditional battery would be a considerable proportion of the vehicle's overall weight. In the end, the C5 shipped with a traditional 33lb lead-acid battery, doubling the weight of the vehicle instantly, and reducing battery life (and thus range) considerably. According to Sinclair Vehicles, twenty miles was the maximum range, though practically this did, of course, vary.

The sleek, futuristic design of the C5s body was the result of a collaboration with Lotus, providing room for one passenger and space for a handlebar steering system, situated beneath the passenger's thighs. The braking system provided had much in common with a standard cycle, and a button on one of the handlebars controlled acceleration, up to the maximum speed of fifteen miles per hour.

Measurement-wise, the C5 was 76cm (2'6") wide, 76cm (2'6") high and 2m (6'6") long. It featured a boot with a cubic capacity of one foot (approximately 28 litres); little more than a rucksack's-worth of space. A light at the front and rear of the vehicle completed the range of standard features, save for a liquid crystal display, described (at the time) as 'futuristic'. This basic package would set one back £399, and was only available via mail order. (Notably, the price dropped sharply to £199 as desperation set in.) Woolworth's did, initially, intend to stock the vehicle, but pulled out smartly when the road became too rocky for the C5 to comfortably travel...

Deluxe options, for those with the cash, included wing mirrors, a lengthy pole with a red flag attached, described by The Royal Society For The Prevention Of Accidents as 'essential': the low height of the C5 caused one reviewer to note that his '...head was on a level with the top of a juggernaut's tyres, the exhaust fumes blasted into my face.' Pressure from consumers and consumer groups alike forced Sinclair to include the high-visibility aerial as a standard option before long, though this did little to enhance the beleaguered tricycle's status.

C5s are now considered to be collector's items, selling for up to £900. Rumours of turbo-charged C5s are common, and one stuntman is said to have accelerated his to 70mph, at which point it is, apparently, suitable for racing through tunnels of fire.

Sir Clive Sinclair

It's almost unthinkable that you might not have heard of Clive Sinclair, despite the fact that he seems to have completely vanished from the public eye for the past twenty years or so. I keep expecting him to pop up on Dragon's Den, or some dreadful reality TV programme, but no - Sir Clive has more about him than that. Alan Sugar, take note - everyone knows your name, but Sir Clive is still blessedly esoteric. Because Clive Sinclair is no television personality, no souped-up fat cat who wants to be in the public eye (I'm deliberately ignoring the late night poker shows. Impartiality... hah!) Clive Sinclair is an entrepreneur, but also, and most importantly, an inventor in the truest sense of the word, like Trevor Bayliss and Isambard Kingdom Brunel. Each of these, in their time, changed something about the world. Which sounds grandiose, but it's not much of a search to find fervent believers in Clive Sinclair. Scratch the surface just a tiny bit, and you'll find those who believe he changed the world of computing, in particular, rushing to the fore with tales of glorious childhood memories. (Or, in my case at least,  maybe childhood is a wishful thought...)

Clive's most famous achievement has to be the ZX Spectrum, which contrasts sharply with his most infamous creation, the Sinclair C5. Both were revolutionary, innovatively designed, cheap and undeniably cutting-edge. One was successful, the other was not. This, in a nutshell, is the pattern of Clive Sinclair's life - the direct result of mixing inventor and entrepreneur. A string of companies; a range of imaginative designs; some of it worked, some of it (with the best will in the world) simply didn't: Sir Clive Sinclair fits the inventor mould completely. And it all started way back in the 1940s...

1940: Life, Education And Early Employment
Born on the 30th of July, 1940, Clive Marles Sinclair was the eldest of three children. Growing up in Richmond, Surrey in the UK, Clive was greatly influenced by his father's, and indeed his grandfather's, career as an engineer. Invention and exploration were childhood pleasures for Clive, and he took it upon himself to excel in this area. At the age of ten his local school, Boxgrove Preparatory declared itself unable to teach Clive anything further about mathematics, and suggested it was time for him to move on to secondary education.

Around this time, the family machine tooling business became bankrupt. It was quickly rebuilt with much hard work on the part of Clive's father, Bill Sinclair, but as a result Clive's secondary education was somewhat disrupted, beginning at Highgate, moving to Reading and then to Dorking Grammar School. Despite this lack of consistency he finally took A and S levels in physics, pure mathematics and applied mathematics at St George's College in Weybridge.

Clive Sinclair's choice of subjects, given his later business interests, is no surprise. Linked together with Clive's own interest in engineering, his later career seems a natural progression. Already, at the time of his A levels, Clive was working on a simple radio circuit and, also, an article for Practical Wireless, which was eventually published. Progressing from this, when Practical Wireless advertised for an editorial assistant Clive quickly applied for, and got, the job. Understandably, his parents were concerned: they had expected Clive to progress to university, a fact Clive was well aware of when he told them it was merely a stop-gap holiday job. With no intention of going to university, it was a a stroke of morbid luck when the editor and assistant editor became ill, leaving the magazine in Clive's capable hands. A few articles a week, various circuit designs (some of which worked and some of which didn't), and Clive was already making a mark in the electronics world.

1961: Sinclair Radionics
Accepting better-paid work by Bernard Babani publishing house, Clive continued to design circuits and edit books until 1961, when he handed in his notice and registered Sinclair Radionics as a limited company. His intention, though ill-fated, was to find backing for a pocket transistor radio and release it for general sale. The backer withdrew support, leaving Clive unemployed, though he was quick to find employment with United Trade Press.

Sinclair Radionics Ltd. began to trade from Clive's home address, and quickly expanded to a two-room operation in Islington. Forseeing a need for a manufacturing and mail-order administration base, Clive formed strong links with Tim Elioart, who ran Cambridge Consultants Ltd., the administration wing of Clive's operation. Well-placed advertisements for Sinclair products quickly produced demand, and the familiar pattern of Clive's business operations emerged.

Innovative designs continued to receive advertising input, and orders continued to roll in. A mini-amplifier, the world's first digital watch and a miniature television further embodied Clive's business ideals: as small as possible, as cheap as possible, and produced in bulk. The Sinclair Executive was the world first slimline electronic calculator, arriving (as so many Sinclair products did) in kit form, ready for assembly.

The formula worked. Engaged by now, six months after the company was formed, Clive married Ann. A move to Cambridge in 1967 formalised the base of operations and firmed up the link between Clive's later projects and Cambridge. His marriage to Ann, incidentally, was to last twenty-three years, and produce three children: Belinda, Crispin and Bartholomew.

1980: Sinclair Computers / 1981: Sinclair Research
It is for his success in the field of computing that Clive will be most remembered. In 1979 Clive applied his business formula to computers, producing the MK14, a low-cost, miniature computer. It sold well, and quickly led to the ZX80, a device with a £100 price point, nearly £600 less than Commodore's similar offering. Mail order was still Clive's chosen distribution method, although the ZX80 was available ready-made, as well as in Sinclair's usual kit form. It was an undeniable success, and the new company, Sinclair Research was ready to expand to the US, trading in association with Timex. The ZX81 quickly followed, and was just as successful.

Then came the ZX Spectrum. Arguably the most successful of Clive's creations, and still based around Zilog's Z80 chip, the Speccy brought computing into millions of eighties households. Indeed, the advent of home computing at this time had much to do with Sinclair Research, and while there were other options available, the Spectrum was as much a driving force as any other machine. Follow-ups to the Spectrum, notable the 68008-based Sinclair QL, were less well received, and Clive's interest in computing seems to have settled, following the Cambridge Z88's good reception, and subsequent sale of the Cambridge Computers company.

1985: Sinclair Vehicles
Choosing, instead, to focus on modifying personal transport, Clive's C5 is almost a prototype for the Segway. Not in design: the C5's design was widely derided and even villified for being unsafe. The concept behind it, however, is very similar - a personal vehicle with an environmentally friendly slant, relying on electric motors and offering a practical solution to the traffic problems of today's modern cities. The C5 flopped, totally, and took much of Sinclair Research's money with it, necessitating a sale of the computer division and brand name to Amstrad. Despite this, personal transport remains an area Clive is keen to exploit, and he continues to manufacture his 'Zeta' add-on kits for bicycles, as well as producing an underwater propulsion device and a wheelchair drive unit.

Other Notable Achievements And Current Activities
In 1980, at the peak of his popularity, Clive became the chairman for British Mensa, a title he held until 1997. Also, during the eighties, he studied for a diploma at King's College, Cambridge, and was a Visiting Fellow Of Robinson College from '82 to '85. He was knighted in 1983, and from 1984 onwards he took the role of Visiting Professor for the Department Of Electronic Engineering at the Imperial College Of Science And Technology. Currently, Clive Sinclair lives in London, remaining focused on his engineering and inventing interests. Additionally, Clive dabbles in poker, occasionally appearing on Channel Four's Late Night Poker.