My very first memory of a computer was at a friend's house when I was about 7 or 8 years old, in South Africa. In the lounge was a glass cabinet housing a homemade computer, complete with screen and keyboard. I can still picture it clearly — a white (or rather grey) monochrome monitor, probably 12 or 15 inches, a CRT of course. Beside the monitor was a rack of open PCBs wired together to form the computer. I had no idea what made up a computer, or even much about computers in general.

My friend's father opened the cabinet and switched it on. I remember the cursor flashing on the screen, and I was allowed to type something. I was in heaven. I have no idea what I typed (probably my name), but I was mesmerised by the letters appearing on the screen as I pressed each key. I had no knowledge of programming or anything like that — this was the first time I had ever seen a computer — but that moment stuck with me, sitting quietly in the back of my mind, just waiting. While computers had existed for a few decades, they were very expensive, huge machines that only large corporations had. Home computers were very rare.

As time went on I became more aware of computers, but they remained firmly in a faraway land. You have to remember — this was the late 70s. No home computers, no internet, no mobile phones, no fancy electronics at all. It was a simpler time.

But I was fascinated with electronics, and my father bought me a 'My Kit 7' electronics kit to play with. Again, it was the most fascinating thing I had ever seen. It came with a wealth of components, including a small integrated chip, and a book with over a hundred experiments to wire up — from buzzers to lie detectors to a radio. I was hooked. I had tinkered with things before, but never with proper components and a book to work from. It was great.

But I was also frustrated. I wanted to do bigger things. I wanted to build a computer. I remember thinking, "Even if I can just get a simple display connected to a keyboard working..." — but the bulbs I was trying to arrange in a matrix just would not behave. I had no idea about logic circuits or latches, and there was no one to guide me. Frustration after frustration. I simply didn't have the know-how at age 8 or 9.

My mother took me to the university for a private demonstration of a computer — heaven knows how she organised that, but the day blew my mind. This was probably the early 80s. The person showing us had a computer on his desk with a green-screen CRT. He demonstrated a number of things, but what I remember most was a basic graphics (CAD) program and a small white grid-lined board connected to the PC, with a device that looked a bit like a map compass with a crosshair. It didn't work particularly well, and he had to keep re-orienting it on the board to set the position, but nonetheless, it was pure magic.

My next introduction to computers came through my father. He was an architect and ran a firm in Randburg, South Africa — a typical architect's office of the era, with a large room housing about fifteen drafting boards. Somehow, my father — a complete technophobe — decided to buy an architectural CAD system. In those days, this was no small thing. He fitted out a whole room for it, and it was as state-of-the-art as you could get. As far as I can remember, he was one of the first people in South Africa to buy one for a small business. It had two monitors — one amber monochrome and one large colour display — two floppy disk drives (no hard drive), a huge A1 plotter, and a dot matrix printer. It must have cost a fortune. There was also a digitiser pen and board with a command overlay, used for positioning the cursor and drawing the plans.

Getting it running required a stack — and I mean around forty — floppy disks. First to load the operating system, then the CAD application. It was amazing to watch it come to life, seeing the text appear on the monochrome screen and then the colour monitor light up.

I used to play on that machine and draw pictures, probably much to the irritation of the technician responsible for it — but hey, I was the boss's son, so belated apologies to him.

Then, someone's father at my primary school donated five TRS-80 machines. By this point, there were a few around, and people were beginning to hear about them. The school started a programming class, which I immediately joined. I was terrible at it. I remember trying to get a for loop to work and not quite managing it. I don't think I lasted long in that class.

At around the age of ten, I got a newspaper round, which meant getting up very early every morning to deliver papers around the neighbourhood. It was a long cycle before school, every day, rain or shine — though I have to admit there were many a rainy morning when my poor mother drove me. Still, I earned enough money and saved enough birthday cash to buy a ZX81 for R99-00, and that is really where my career with computers began.