Skip to main content

Heraclitus: The Unity of Opposites

Two weeks after turning 18, I arrived in London to study for a music degree at the Royal College of Music.

It was an awakening.

In those first months in London, as I began to fathom my situation, I realised two things: I wouldn't become a professional musician and making sense of the universe is a deeply challenging, subtle yet rewarding experience. Imperceptibly, an awareness kindled within me: music, like all art, is a potent and fluid process of encountering, understanding and expressing. It's how we discern our dynamic and diverse universe yet, at the same time, change and enlarge it through our creative contributions and collaborations. It is, I believe, the most important and rewarding activity we can do, both singularly as individuals and collectively shared with others.

Upon graduating, I needed a broader context in which to make sense of things, so I embarked on a philosophy degree. It was an exciting time... I had just met Mary and I was acquiring a sense of the historic philosophical terrain while working out where I found myself on the philosophical map.

A turning point was my first encounter with ancient Greek philosopher Heraclitus, who has remained a constant philosophical companion throughout my life. This blog post briefly explores why Heraclitus resonates so much with me.

A pensive Heraclitus, as depicted by Raphael in The School of Athens. (The figure is actually a portrait of Michelangelo, who shared a misanthropic reputation with Heraclitus. To the right, in blue, is Socrates.)

Not much is known about Heraclitus, but what is probably true about him can be said in a paragraph of four sentences.

Heraclitus, son of Bloson (or Heracon), was born and lived in Ephesus - a Greek city on the west coast of modern day Turkey. He was a member of an aristocratic family and gave up his hereditary right of "kingship" to his brother. His acme (ancient Greek for "prime" - usually regarded as around the age of 40) was considered by Apollodorus to have been the 69th Olympiad (504–501 BC), and he probably died approximately thirty years later. He wrote a single philosophical work, well known in antiquity but now lost, that may have been titled "On Nature", a copy of which he placed as a votive deposit in the temple of Artemis at Ephesus.

That's it!

However, many spurious claims have been made about Heraclitus; the main source being Diogenes Laertius's book Lives and Opinions of Eminent Philosophers, written in the 3rd century CE, around 700 years after Heraclitus flourished. Diogenes is a problematic figure because he's a mixture of unreliable and highly speculative gossip columnist, uncritical historical biographer and scatter-gun reporter of "facts" (often lacking context, evidence or relevance).

His account of Heraclitus is a corker of a hatchet job, worthy of any British red top tabloid.

According to Diogenes, Heraclitus was an autodidact who claimed to know everything, regarded everyone else as a moron (with a few notable exceptions), and preferred to play games with children than engage with his fellow citizens. Because of his unpopularity and misanthropic nature he was forced to leave Ephesus and live on a vegetarian diet, alone in the mountains. Eventually he fell victim to dropsy and returned to Ephesus where he sought treatment from the town's doctors by posing them riddles. Unable to make sense of the riddles, the doctors failed to cure him. Heraclitus took matters into his own hands and decided to cover himself in bovine faeces in the hope the warmth of the fresh dung would dry out his dropsy. This failed and he died at the age of seventy, after which his "bullshit" encrusted body was devoured by a pack of dogs.

Yet Diogenes also reports that Socrates, no less, was a puckish fan:

They say that Euripides, giving him [Socrates] a work of Heraclitus to read, asked him what he thought of it, and he replied: "The part I understand is excellent, and so too is, I dare say, the part I do not understand; but it needs a Delian diver to get to the bottom of it".

(A Delian diver fishes for pearls.)

This is a good illustration of Heraclitus's reputation in antiquity as obscure, cryptic and difficult to fathom. Aristotle complained about Heraclitus's ambiguous punctuation and style in his Rhetoric (a treatise in the technique of argument), and Aristotle's student Theophrastus reported Heraclitus's book was disjointed and unfinished, attributing this to Heraclitus's melancholic nature (resulting in Heraclitus's epithet "the weeping philosopher").

Heraclitus as the weeping philosopher
Heraclitus, the weeping philosopher, as painted by Johannes Moreelse in around 1630.

But Aristotle missed a subtle aspect of Heraclitus's technique of argument (in his own work on the technique of argument!). Heraclitus's enigmatic style is not a result of grammatical failings nor foggy thinking. He knew what he wanted to say, and how he wanted to say it. His prose is often a subtle embodiment of his philosophy. In fact, Heraclitus hints at this when he says,

The Lord whose oracle is at Delphi neither declares nor conceals, but shows by sign. (B93)

Similarly, Heraclitus's writing neither declares nor conceals, but shows by sign. His enigmatic writing style forces his readers to actively engage in the analysis, comprehension and literary appreciation of his words, as a vehicle to demonstrate his wider philosophical point. To me this is more akin to poetry, perhaps because Heraclitus was one of the first Greek prose writers - until that time, most Greek writing had been poetry - and the basic conventions of prose writing had not yet been established.

This first direct quote from Heraclitus about the Delphic oracle provides an opportunity to explain the nature and organisation of the fragments that have survived.

All that remains of Heraclitus's work are a small group of around 130 quotations, paraphrases and aphorisms found in the works of later authors (such as Aristotle's quote from Heraclitus in his work on rhetoric). We have no idea how most of these fragments relate to each other, nor where they appear in the original book.

This is a double-edged sword.

On the one hand, it is impossible to tell how Heraclitus organised his book's philosophical narrative, how it was thematically arranged or discern the structure of its exposition or the subsequent development of ideas. While I believe there is strong evidence Heraclitus had a cogent and coherent structure to the book, what that was has been lost. Therefore, arranging the fragments is a deeply troublesome undertaking. To organise and interpret them according to the themes found therein may help to capture the coherence of thought behind the work, but risks speculation, educated guesswork and interpretation reflecting the background, interests and prejudices of the curator. The alternative, and most common practice, is to recognise the shortcomings of such an approach and present them in an alternative fashion. This was how Hermann Diels compiled all the extant works of ancient Greek philosophers in a book called Die Fragmente der Vorsokratiker (The Fragments of the Pre-Socratics). In this Diels–Kranz [DK] numbering system the fragments are mostly arranged according to the alphabetical order of the names of the sources from which the fragments were taken. For instance fragments found in the works of Aristotle come before those quoted in Diogenes. This has become the standard, and the identifier B93 is the DK number for the fragment quoted above.

A papyrus fragment quoting Heraclitus
Fragment B103a written on an ancient papyrus (Papyrus Oxyrhynchus 3710, col. ii 43-47).

On the other hand, the fractured provenance of the fragments is an opportunity to honour Heraclitus's desire that we actively engage with his words and ideas. Put simply, we need to pay close attention and work out for ourselves our own interpretation and arrangement of the themes and ideas. For me, it matters not that our view of the remaining fragments will be different to what Heraclitus originally intended, yet it is of the utmost importance that we engage with and are stimulated by the thoughts found therein.

Heraclitus says as much:

Upon those who step into the same stream ever different waters flow. (B12)
The person who loves wisdom must be a good inquirer into a great many things. (B35)

In reading Heraclitus, I like to think we're undertaking a sort of philosophical cut-up technique (découpé). Or perhaps we are using a more contemporary Internet-age share/remix/reuse process, as championed by the Creative Commons. My point is that [re]assembling Heraclitus's work is a fundamental aspect of encountering and comprehending it. It's a very unconventional yet valuable philosophical situation, and that's something to welcome!

Fragment B12, quoted above, is usually paraphrased into English as "one cannot step into the same river twice", and is one of Heraclitus's best known aphorisms. It is also a good example of the various linguistic quirks of Heraclitus that make translation of the fragments a challenge.

There are broadly three aspects of translation that inform our understanding of the fragments.

It is important to be aware of the philological aspects of Heraclitus's writing: his place in the history and development of ancient Greek, that he wrote in the Ionian dialect and that his prose style was perhaps deliberately aphoristic and even oracular in tone at a point in time when such a prose style of writing was not yet established nor refined to have widely understood conventions and characteristics.

The semantic context of Heraclitus's writing is often fascinating and (as Aristotle pointed out) sometimes frustrating. Heraclitus is deliberately ambiguous yet careful in his choice of words, and a full understanding of a fragment often depends upon recognising the sophisticated multi-layered significance in the terminology Heraclitus employs (often as a way to embody the concept[s] he is exploring or describing). Part of the fun in reading Heraclitus is to uncover the colourful, intriguing and often revealing interplay of such subtle linguistic layers.

Heraclitus's style of writing often contains puns, wordplay, neologisms, assonance, alliteration, onomatopoeia and other compositional techniques more commonly associated with poetry rather than prose. As has been mentioned, Heraclitus was an early writer of ancient Greek prose so existing and well established poetic techniques that would become absent in later forms of prose still find their way into Heraclitus's writing. I find this aspect of Heraclitus's style very engaging and appealing.

Returning to fragment B12, "one cannot step into the same river twice", while mostly accurate in the broad sense of what the fragment is literally saying, misses the more subtle aspects of the language employed. For instance, the original ancient Greek is pronounced in such a way that the sentence onomatopoeically babbles like a river, while the grammar makes it ambiguous if the river or the person stepping into it have changed. This grammatical twist demonstrates a subtle philosophical point: the fragment can be read in different ways (one cannot step into the same sentence twice!), and thus the meaning is changed as one reads the sentence one way or the other. It (literally) illustrates the changing nature of re-encountering changed things — precisely the concept the fragment is exploring. For me, this is but one example of Heraclitus's engaging, playful and sophisticated literary style.

These points are beautifully explored in this short audio extract from an episode on Heraclitus from the magnificent BBC radio series, In Our Time. I hope you especially pay attention to the babbling pronunciation of the fragment.

There are many English translations of Heraclitus. They range from the literal side-by-side with the ancient Greek (Loeb), or the poetic (Guy Davenport) to the academic (Charles H.Khan) and the literary (Dennis Sweet). Each reveals a different aspect of Heraclitus's writing and reading numerous translations (as I have done) is itself a stimulating exploration of how others have [re]assembled, [re]interpreted and [re]presented Heraclitus's words and philosophy. It feels to me like listening to different musicians performing contrasting interpretations of a composer's work.

Remember the sentence that so annoyed Aristotle? Here's the original Greek and how each of the afore mentioned translations render it - along with any translator's notes relating to the sentence. It's the famous first line of the first fragment which, we can be reasonably confident, opened Heraclitus's book. It introduces the important concept of logos:

τοῦ δὲ λόγου τοῦδ ἐόντος ἀεὶ ἀξύνετοι γίνονται ἄνθρωποι καὶ πρόσθεν ἢ ἀκοῦσαι καὶ ἀκούσαντες τὸ πρῶτον· (Original)
And of this account (logos) that is—always—humans are uncomprehending, both before they hear it and once they have first heard it. (Loeb)
The Logos is eternal
but men have not heard it
and men have heard it and not understood.
Although this account holds forever, men ever fail to comprehend, both before hearing it and once they have heard. (Khan)

account: logos, saying, speech, discourse, statement, report; account, explanation, reason, principle; esteem, reputation; collection, enumeration, ratio, proportion; logos is translated 'account' here (twice) and also in III, XXVII, LX and LXII; it is rendered 'report' in XXXV, XXXVI and CI; 'amount' in XXXIX.

holds forever: text is ambiguous between 'this account is forever, is eternal' and 'this account is true (but men ever fail to comprehend)'.

Of this eternally existing[1]logos people lack understanding, both before and after they hear the primary thing[2]. (Sweet)

1 I follow Diels and Zeller (after Clement, Hippolytus, and Amelius) in putting ἀεὶ with ἐόντος, contra Reinhardt, Snell, Gigon, and Kirk, who connect it with ἀξύνετοι. This seems to be a more natural grammatical construction and is more consistent with Heraclitus's doctrine of the eternity of the logos. Cf fr. 30.

2 Since τὸ πρῶτον contains an article and is in the accusative case, it is treated here as the object of ἀκοῦσαι and ἀκούσαντες. This interpretation implies the fundamental nature of the logos rather than simply indicating the first hearing of the idea (contra Kirk [1962], p.33).

For what it's worth, in this blog post I use Dennis Sweet's translations into English because he attempts to retain the flavour of the original Greek, while rendering the fragments into coherent English that carefully acknowledge the inherent playful poetic style and multiple layers of meaning. I'm also very fond of Davenport's poetic rendering of the fragments, although these very much reflect his personal aesthetic and interpretation, and may not appeal to scholars or "purists" (like the Jacques Loussier Trio performing Bach to Jazz afficionados or fans of historically informed performance).

Given such context and back story, I can finally begin to explain my personal impressions of Heraclitus's philosophical themes. These are offered as a record of my own encounter with Heraclitus's work, and certainly shouldn't be treated as learned or scholarly. What do I know? I'm just a humble tuba player.

Heraclitus's philosophical project is to explore an apparent paradox: the unity of the universe in the face of apparent diversity and change, and core to this account is the eternal λόγος (logos).

Logos had many related meanings over time, and Heraclitus plays on this richness of meaning. In the context of ancient Greek it originally meant "selecting" or "picking out". The meaning shifted to "reckon", "measure" and "proportion". Further refinement of its usage led to it meaning "thought", "reason", as well as "formula", "law" and "plan". It also had connotations around speaking, via a common etymological root with the ancient Greek verb λέγω (lego, "to speak"). So logos can also mean a spoken word, a statement, account, discourse or report. It is also the source for our modern English word, "logic".

Heraclitus uses it to mean three broad concepts: the order (unity) underlying a universe of diversity and change, the capacity of a person to discern and make sense of such a situation (although very few people exercise this talent), and our ability to communicate our thoughts about such things with others. Each is a different facet of the eternal logos.

Put in a more personal (and musical) manner, the eternal logos consists of three aspects: the singularly unified universe full of diversity and change that we encounter, our cultivated and refined mental faculties through which we understand the universe, and our skill at expressing our shared feelings about, experiences and understanding of the universe with one another.

In Heraclitus's own words:

Listening not to me but rather to the logos it is wise to agree[46] that all things are one. (B50)

46 A play upon the words logos and homologein = to agree.

Seizures[11] —wholes and non-wholes, being combined and differentiated, in accord and dissonant: unity is from everything and from everything is unity. (B10)

11 sullapsies (συλλάψιες)—following Marcovich, Kirk, etc., contra Diels' συνάψιες. I have translated this word in its archaic sense, which gives the notion of physical seizure or grasping. Snell, Kirk, Marcovich, and Bollack-Wismann employ later senses ('Zusammensetzungen', 'things taken together', 'connections', and 'assemblages', respectively) in their translations. All of these terms suggest a putting together and unification of diverse things. Cf. the discussion of harmonia.

Thinking is common to all. (B113)
For since everything comes to be according to this logos, they are like ignorant people when experiencing such words[3] and actions as I expound—when I describe each according to its nature[4], indicating how it is. (B1 - second sentence.)

3 epeon (ἐπέων)—also suggests oracular advice.

4 kata phusin (κατὰ φύσιν) = according to its constitution.

The notions of commonality and universality are attributes that facilitate the eternal logos. Sharing aspects both in common and universally, explains how different things are able to correspond and coordinate with each other. Such ordering relates to all things, and can be discerned, understood and communicated by those rare persons who explore and engage with the eternal logos.

Clearly Heraclitus was prickly when trying to acknowledge that not everyone recognises, values or is capable of such philosophical explorations. He explains that "the many are worthless and good people are few" (in fragment B104), and is unflattering about his fellow citizens:

The Ephesians deserve, from the young men to the old, to be hanged, and to leave the city to the beardless youths, since they cast out Hermodorus, their best man, saying, 'let no one be the best among us: if he is, let him be so elsewhere and among others'. (B121)

But could this be because "nature tends to hide itself" (fragment B123) or because most people, "know neither how to listen nor how to speak" (fragment B19)?

Sadly, things don't look good for most people because,

Learning many things[38] does not teach good sense[39]; for it would have taught Hesiod and Pythagoras, and also Xenophanes and Hecataeus. (B40)

38 polymathie (πολυμαθίη)—a cognate with mathontes (fr. 17) and mathesis (fr. 55) = learning. This term (i.e., polymath) was probably coined by Heraclitus.

39 noon (νόον) = mindfulness, understanding. Cf. frs. 104, 114.

Clearly if the learning of intellectual Titans like Hesiod and Pythagoras et al, doesn't result in understanding, what chance do mere mortals have? Perhaps it's just a case of luck since "one's character is one's divine fortune" (fragment 119)? Clearly a good metaphor is needed to illuminate the nature of the logos to the ignorant hoi polloi. This is precisely what Heraclitus does when he poetically plays with "fire".

Early Greek philosophers were traditionally interested in discerning the "arche" — the first principle or element from which everything else can be derived. For instance, Thales claimed water was the arche, while Anaximander said it was "the infinite", and Anaximenes considered it air.

It is often claimed that Heraclitus believed fire was the arche. In one sense it is true, because Heraclitus uses fire to symbolise the logos (his own underlying principle from which everything else follows), but in another sense it is false because I don't think Heraclitus thought everything was (literally) derived from fire - although some appear to believe this the case. I suspect, given the playful and poetic personality of Heraclitus, he's using a metaphor.

Fire is actually a very good metaphor for logos. Fire represents change because it transforms the burning things. Yet fire is also unchanging alongside change, it retains its unity through time (so the flame flickering at the top of a candle at the start of the evening is the same flame as that at the end of the evening). Fire is also dry - an important property that Heraclitus uses to indicate an enlightened person (who has a dry soul). This is also perhaps why Diogenes claimed Heraclitus died of dropsy (he had a wet soul that he tried to dry out with bullshit). Significantly, fire is created through friction (opposition and strife), such as when striking flints or rubbing sticks together. As we shall see, opposition and strife are important aspects of Heraclitus's account of the eternal logos.

Fire, having come upon them, will distinguish[66] and seize all things. (B66)

66 krinei (κρινεῖ) = separate, pick out, choose, decide, judge

It is delight or[74] death for souls to become moist. (B77)

74 I follow Diels and Marcovich in reading ἢ (contra Kahn's μἡ), since it lends itself more readily to the two senses of a 'moist soul' which Heraclitus intends. On the one hand, a moist soul is said to be found in the person who is drunk or ignorant (confused by appearances). On the other hand, when the ignorant person dies, that person's moist soul disintegrates and unites with water in an endless cycle of elemental change.

Change, in a universe of unity (i.e. all things are one), is caused by conflict and strife between opposites interacting via the common and universal. Change emerges in both the external and internal worlds. The external universe is in a state of constant flux through conflict, but a person's understanding, perspective and way of paying attention can also change. The logos is how we encounter, understand and express this state of affairs.

What is in opposition is in agreement, and the most beautiful harmony comes out of things in conflict (and all happens[10] according to strife). (B8)

10 ginesthai (γίνεσθαι) = is born

Cold things get warm; warm cools off; moist dries up; parched is wetted. (B126)
(Human opinions are children's playthings[71].) (B70)

71 athurmata (ἀθύρματα) = toys, delights, joys.

The way up and down is one and the same. (B60)

This resonates with my musical side: discord resolves to consonance, contrasting themes somehow fit together, differences within musical elements (loud/soft, fast/slow, high/low etc.) engage attention. Yet the piece is a musical integration of such contrasts, and the manner in which such contrasts unfold and interact through time gives the piece its unity. Furthermore, one's perception of a piece changes upon repeated performances as new details are revealed, the strange becomes familiar or a new perspective is acquired because of the ongoing enlargement of one's lived experience.

By recognizing the interdependence and fitting together of things in opposition we glimpse a yet more fundamental and hidden unity. Heraclitus claims the unity of opposites is essential for the existence of the different things in opposition, for their mutual dependency unifies them.

Disease makes health sweet and good; hunger satiety, weariness repose. (B111)

Furthermore, some things only exist because they arise from the strife of mixing or fitting together of different opposing parts, that would otherwise separate from each other.

(Even the potion[116] separates unless stirred). (B125)

116 kukeon (κυκεὼν) — a drink mentioned in the Iliad (XI 637 ff.), which was composed of wine, barley-meal, and grated cheese.

(Kukeon apparently behaved much like a modern-day vinaigrette.)

Heraclitus uses the word ἁρμονίη (harmony) to mean a sort of concordant, satisfying and purposeful fitting together. The most beautiful harmony comes about when things are in conflict: as in music, a dissonance makes the harmony beautiful, in contrast to the bland aural goop of continuous consonance. Only by becoming conscious of the hidden harmony in the universe — change through an unending process of the fitting together of conflict, opposition and strife — can one comprehend the paradox that the apparently disjointed and diverse appearance of things is actually a unified whole - the eternal logos.

The hidden harmony is superior[53] to the visible. (B54)

53 kreitton (κρείττων) = stronger, more desirable.

How does one become conscious of such hidden logos-related things?

As we have seen, Heraclitus believed most people don't develop such awareness. Instead they act as if isolated, asleep or ignorant.

But although the logos is common, most people live as though they possess a private purpose[7]. (B2 - second sentence)

7 phronesis (φρόνησις)—Alternative definitions of this word, such as 'to strive', 'to decide' and 'to intend', suggest "knowledge related to action." See Jaeger, p.460

For those awake there is one common world; but for those sleeping each deserts into a private world. (B89)
Those listening without understanding are like the deaf. The saying bears witness to them: absent while being present. (B34)

Nor did he believe learning and study help with the acquisition of such a rarefied and enlightened point of view.

Most people do not comprehend[16] however they encounter such things, nor do they understand what they learn; they believe only themselves. (B17)

16 ou gar phroneousi (οὐ γὰρ φρονέουσι)—see footnote 7.

Rather, he preferred direct experience (over academic learning) and deep self reflection as complementary ways to perceive the eternal logos.

Eyes are more accurate witnesses than ears. (B101a)
I searched for myself. (B101)
To be of sound mind[107] is the greatest excellence and wisdom; to speak and act with truth, detecting things according to their nature[108]. (B112)

107 sophronein (σωφρονεῖν) = to be temperate, discreet, to show self-control. This is a cognate with phronesis.

108 phusin (φύσιν) = natural qualities, constitution, condition.

All people are able to know themselves and to learn self-control[112]. (B116)

112 sophronein (σωφρονεῖν)—cf. footnote 107.

The soul is a law that increases its own power. (B115)

When learning by listening to another (fragment 17), one often does not hear (comprehend) what they are saying. Rather, a direct encounter with the universe, through one's own eyes or because of one's own efforts, is preferable (fragments 101a and 101). When paired with a sound mind and disciplined soul (fragments 112 and 116) one understands the true nature of things. This is a self-transformative virtuous circle (fragment 115) that becomes more effective with more practise (like learning a musical instrument!). Direct experience and self-reflection — an immediate, lived and first-hand appreciation of the eternal logos — is how to encounter, understand, express and ultimately transcend the paradox of the unity of the universe in the face of apparent diversity and change.

Heraclitus is a challenging philosopher: his writing forces us to engage in the self-reflection needed to make sense of our direct experience of the universe. In fact, we should work things out for ourselves and not rely on the teachings of others, perhaps explaining why he neither declares nor conceals, but shows by sign. Heraclitus points the way but expects us to make sense of the universe ourselves: a deeply challenging, subtle yet rewarding experience that appeals to very few. The ambiguous poetry of his words, the fragmentary and fractured organisation of his thoughts, and the playfully demonstrative crafting of his aphorisms ensures Heraclitus is a perennially intriguing, stimulating and relevant philosopher to those who are tuned in and receptive to his peculiar yet profound and transfiguring exploration of the universe.

For upon those who read the same words, thoughts and aphorisms, ever different reflections and responses will flow.

One can never step into the same Heraclitus twice. :-)


Last week I visited CERN with my youngest (16yo) son, William.

We love CERN
Myself (L), William (R) and a young friend (C).

Our road to CERN started in the summer at EuroPython. Will volunteered at the conference registration desk and checked in Phil Elson. Noticing Phil's conference badge (indicating he worked at CERN), physics-mad Will started asking Phil all sorts of questions.

Further physics conversations ensued between Will and (the ever patient) Phil over the course of the conference. In the end Phil suggested we just come visit CERN and Will could explore to his heart's content. Furthermore, since I had presented a talk about PyScript at the conference, Phil mentioned colleagues at CERN who'd be interested in learning more about the project and who may possibly have uses for the work I'm currently doing. A plan was hatched for a "dad and son" adventure to CERN so Will could soak up the physics and I could present and meet with fellow coders.

Thank you to Phil, Jo and their children for putting us up during our visit to CERN. Staying at chez Elson was, in itself, worth the trip. Both Will and I had lots of fun with the Elson children, be that reading stories together or helping with dressing up.

Young astronauts
Young astronauts!

The photograph of the "#I💙CERN" sign, at the beginning of this post, was taken outside the brand new education centre on the day we arrived at CERN.

As a former teacher, and someone still passionate about engineering education and pedagogy, this brand new facility was great fun to explore. The curators have put together an excellent set of displays, videos and interactive props along with a comprehensive timetable of lectures, classes and workshops.

This is how to engage folks with science, technology and engineering. Bravo!

Tim Berners-Lee worked at CERN when he invented the World Wide Web (through which you are reading this blog post). I was delighted to find a small display in the exhibition space explaining his work and the origin story of the web, along with the computer used to develop the very first web server.

With the world's first web server
With the world's first web server.

The next day started at 8am with a visit to the ATLAS detector. The CERN facilities were off for maintenance and upgrades, so we were able to get to places not normally open to visitors like us.

The Large Hadron Collider is the world's largest and most powerful particle collider. It is 27 kilometres in circumference and buried around 100 metres below the French and Swiss countryside. Put very simply, its job is to smash protons together so physicists can analyse the resulting subatomic particle "debris" and learn more about the structure of the subatomic world and the laws governing it.

The collisions happen at several points in the LHC and it is at such points that particle detectors, like ATLAS, are found.

A Lego model of ATLAS. Check the autographs on the bricks at the front of the model.

This being the first visit of the day to CERN facilities, the journey to the device left quite a theatrical impression. We had to don hard hats (making us all look like the Lego mini-figures on the model in the reception area), watch as our guide used a retina scanner to access the facility (very Hollywood), and travel 100 meters below the surface in a lift. We emerged into a labyrinth of tunnels adjacent to rooms containing racks of computers and other equipment needed to run the experiment.

Finally we got to the cavern containing ATLAS.

The ATLAS experiment
The 7000 tonne ATLAS detector.

Photos of ATLAS don't do it justice: it is so overwhelmingly HUGE that your whole field of vision is filled with the device (it is seven stories tall). Imagine constructing a large multi-story car park filled to the brim with intricate electronics, in a ship-in-a-bottle manner but 100 metres underground. What a feat of planning, engineering and construction!

Will and ATLAS
Will and ATLAS.

ATLAS is made up of layers, each of which detects different sorts of subatomic particles - hence the circular arrangement of equipment centred on the particle beam.

Each collision creates terabytes of data, most of which is processed as close to the device as possible and thrown away. Only those aspects of the data that are of interest get to make it to the data centres on the surface and then to a global network of computers crunching and analysing the results (the World Wide Web was invented specifically so scientists could share such data).

Will has questions
Will has questions.

Once the mind boggling scale of the device had been processed, as well as its extraordinary engineering explained, William took the opportunity to ask the physicists on hand all the questions about all the things. I have to admit, I had no idea what they were talking about... I am a classically trained musician with a background in academic philosophy who earns a living as a software engineer, and so their conversation was well beyond my level of subject matter knowledge.

Here's the thing, not for the first time I observed folks recognise in Will a fellow physics enthusiast. Then they would open up about their passion for their work and scientific interests. This was a privilege and joy to behold, and Will was in his element. He really appreciated their time and patience.

Between technical meetings in the morning and a presentation about PyScript in the afternoon, we saw many other parts of the CERN facilities. The highlight for me being a visit to CMS, another titanic machine and feat of engineering 100 meters below the surface.

We took the lift
Looking down the service shaft. We took the lift again.

The CMS device is, like ATLAS, a sub-atomic particle detector but at the antipode of the LHC to ATLAS.

As I understand it, CMS and ATLAS essentially do the same thing but were designed by independent teams so the resulting devices differ in their capabilities and the details of their engineering. They complement each other because the results from one device check and confirm the results of the other, thus giving scientists greater confidence in the data coming from the detected collisions in each device.

There is, of course, a friendly rivalry between the two teams and I quipped to our CMS guide, Benjamin, that it felt like CMS and ATLAS are to physicists as vi and EMACS are to computer programmers. To which Benjamin shot back, "I'm a vi user". This was yet another hint at the renaissance man/woman aspects of many of the hugely talented folks working at CERN. Through the course of our tour, not only did Benjamin reveal his background in Physics (by fielding yet more questions from Will, of increasing incomprehensibility to me) but touched upon the various engineering aspects of the CMS device as well as sojourns into materials science, computing hardware and "big data". Bravo Benjamin, this was an entertaining virtuoso performance of passion for the project.

The CMS experiment
The 14000 tonne CMS detector.

Once again, the scale of the device was overwhelming.

Building the CMS
A photo of a poster showing pieces of CMS being lowered into position down the service shaft.

The service tunnels and shafts underground were perhaps more accessible to see at CMS than at ATLAS, and these additional aspects of the life of the project gave yet another dimension of the overwhelming scale of what goes on at CERN. We were, in a sense, able to see the neck of the bottle through which the 14000 tonne CMS "ship" had been built.

Will and CMS
Will and CMS.

It is while in the presence of such devices that one ponders how such things are maintained and improved, who designs them, and what resources are needed to make things work. It is then that one realises that CERN isn't just about science, it's also a sort of creative cultural experiment consisting of a huge number of people spread all over the world, collaborating to help us comprehend what the universe is and how the universe behaves.

Nicholas and Will with CMS
Will and I dwarfed by the staggering engineering of CMS.

However, such activity doesn't just happen at the titanic scale of ATLAS and CMS.

The protons that are accelerated and smashed together have to come from somewhere, and while visiting another CERN facility we found the source: a red bottle containing hydrogen.

Proton source
Get yer fresh protons here! (From the red bottle of hydrogen.)

If that looks like a thermos flask containing a nice hot cup of tea (hat tip), you're not wrong. Such mundane looking yet essential objects were another aspect of CERN that reminded me that any large engineering effort contains an abundance of seemingly boring yet rather important bits and bobs randomly attached to other stuff.

Another aspect of any complicated engineering effort is the inevitable use of hand written warnings hastily taped to a button, panel or (in the following case) valve:

Valve must be closed
No matter the complexity of the engineering, you'll always find a handwritten note.

In a similar vein, the LHC needs an "off" switch - a delightfully understated device found on the desk of an operator in the LHC control room. This is used when things don't go to plan.

LHC dump beam
The LHC's beam dump switch (basically, the "off" button).

When pressed the LHC isn't actually switched off... rather a dump of the beam occurs, where the protons, travelling at near the speed of light, get redirected in a spiral fashion to around 30 meters of material that act as a cushion to absorb the beam (to spectacularly over-simplify what really goes on).

CERN also has a sense of humour.

When I asked a guide what went on at a rather nondescript area on a schematic map of CERN labelled "north facility", they replied, with a twinkle in their eye, that it was where they manufactured all the black holes. Another scientist pointed at a door and exclaimed with glee that it was where they keep all the secret alien technology (but they'd have to kill me if they told me more).

Clearly such tomfoolery is a complete nightmare for CERN's PR and media department.

Thanks to the World Wide Web, not only can theoretical physicists share information, but conspiracy theorists can share their own unhinged, one-sandwich-short-of-a-picnic misinformation about what the universe is and how the universe behaves. This includes many Men In Black style assertions about CERN ~ such as the possible manufacture of world-ending black holes.

Rest assured, the most dodgy things I observed at CERN were an interesting looking risotto in restaurant 1, a desire to number buildings in chronological order of construction (something with which even Postman Pat would struggle), and a large number of champaign bottles in the CERN control room (clearly these folks know how to party).

Bottles in the CERN control room
CERN operations know how to hold a good party.

Actually, if you look carefully at the bottles you'll notice that each is labelled with the name of a successfully completed experiment. Apparently it is traditional to send an appropriately decorated bottle of bubbly to the CERN operations team as a token of thanks for their considerable expertise and work running the LHC.

That there is a CERN operations team, whose job it is to "drive" the LHC for everyone else, is a reminder that CERN is not just full of physicists. There is so much complementary work going on. Remember, the reason I was at CERN was to talk about PyScript: CERN makes use of, and are interested in, all sorts of computing technology, a huge variety of engineering, and ever more creative ways in which to explain and share what on earth is going on to the rest of the world.

A wonderful example of such a complementary discipline at work at CERN was demonstrated during our visit to the robotics facility.

Will with robots
Will with robots.

How do you service the LHC when it is functioning?

You don't send people down there!

Instead, you use robots!

This was our final visit at CERN, on the morning of our return home. What should have been a 45 minute quick guided tour extended to about an hour and a half of enthusiastic explanation and demonstration.

The robotics lab have mock-ups of all the different sorts of area at CERN in which the robots work, so they are able to test them and rehearse "situations". The robots range from repurposed bomb disposal robots trundling around on tank tracks, to robots that hang from the monorail attached to the ceiling of the tunnel in which the LHC is housed.

The robot testing tunnel
Phil, Jo, myself and Will in the robot testing tunnel.

It was fascinating to learn how the robotics team take off-the-shelf parts and modify, adapt and re-purpose them with bespoke "stuff" to help them do their maintenance work.

For example, we were shown an electric drill you could have purchased from any conventional DIY store, that had been dismantled, reconfigured and reassembled to work while connected to a robot arm in the sometimes limited space in which such devices are needed.

How else are you going to unscrew nuts and bolts with a robot?

Well, it turns out you could use a Luke Skywalker like robotic hand.

A robot hand
Will demonstrating a robot hand for fine-grained "human" controls.

When I enquired about its capabilities I was told it had many degrees of movement in all the joints one finds in a human hand. I wondered out loud if anyone had ever tried to play the piano with it, to which our host gave me a raised eyebrow and a thoughtful, "hmmm... that would be interesting".

Of course, there are your common "service droid" type robots that trundle around on wheels with a camera and arm attached to them. Even these are intricate and substantial bits of kit.

A robot helper
A robot used for servicing when the LHC is on.

Both Will and I had a great time at CERN. A large part of the reason being Phil, Jo and their family's hospitality. As we were leaving for the airport Phil mentioned a film, called Particle Fever, that tells the story of how the folks at CERN confirmed the existence of the Higgs boson. On our return home Will and I watched it... and if you're looking for a film about particle physics, this is NOT it. Rather, it tells a great story and places CERN, and the work done there, into context.

At one point in the film, a physicist gives a presentation about the LHC (at a moment in time just prior to when it was first switched on) and fields a question from the audience. They are asked, "but what value is the work at CERN? (and by the way, I'm an economist)". The physicist giving the presentation is brutally honest and admits that he has no idea and the damn thing may not work.

This moment resonated with me.

It's not uncommon for folks to doubt the value of endeavours close to my heart such as classical music or philosophy. So hearing a physicist asked such a question made me think, "huh... so it happens to you folks too...".

I feel sad, disappointed and frustrated when I encounter people who can't imagine a world where economic value is not the only valuable outcome.

We don't make music, ponder philosophy nor try to comprehend the universe because such activities create economic value. We do them because they make life worth living, enlarge our world and connect us to something beyond ourselves. Any economic value is merely a welcome fortuitous side-effect. The Nobel Prize winning physicist Richard Feynman claimed that he didn't do physics to change the world or discover some grand unifying theory of everything, but just for the pleasure of finding things out.

Bravo CERN, it was a pleasure to find things out about the work you all do. I sincerely hope to return soon (with Will - he'd never forgive me if I left him at home).

On Debugging

One of the stand-out collaborations of my career has been with my buddy Damien George. He's the creator of MicroPython ~ a lean and efficient implementation of the Python programming language optimised to run in constrained environments. When Damien created MicroPython I think he imagined "constrained environments" to mean microcontrollers - the small single chip computers beloved of embedded systems engineers, Internet of Things enthusiasts and the Maker community.

Little did he realise that MicroPython was an amazing fit for another computing context: the browser.


The browser is an interesting space in which to work because of its unique combinations of constraints.

Firstly, everything needed to view a web page needs to be delivered over the network. So, the smaller the asset to be delivered can be, the better. MicroPython, when compressed for delivery to the browser is only around 170k in size - smaller than most images you find on most websites.

Secondly, the browser is perhaps the world's most battle tested sand boxed computing environment. By this I mean that web browsers encounter all sorts of interesting, nefarious, ill-performing, badly written and otherwise shonky code. Such code should be constrained into a virtual sandbox, so it can't do any damage to the user's wider system. Because of the recent development of web assembly (shortened to WASM ~ a sort of virtual microprocessor working in the browser), code written in C can be compiled to run in the browser. MicroPython is written in C and Damien and his collaborators have worked together to create a port for web assembly.

Third and finally, the browser makes available to the developer of websites a JavaScript object called globalThis, through which all the other objects, functions and data structures needed to access the capabilities of the browser are made available. By constraining developers to a single means of interacting with the browser, there is only one way to go about making things happen. MicroPython compiled to WASM has access to the full capabilities of the sandboxed browser thanks to some of Damien's recent work on a foreign function interface (FFI) that interacts with the JavaScript based APIs and capabilities defined by globalThis.

Given this context, what does MicroPython allow you to do?

From within MicroPython running in the browser, one simply imports the js module (short for JavaScript). It's an object in MicroPython that acts as a proxy for globalThis in the browser. It makes interacting with the browser from MicroPython an absolute joy. It's worth pointing out that Damien's work is based upon the js work done as part of the Pyodide project (a version of the CPython interpreter for the browser), so no matter the version of Python you use in the browser, you access the browser's capabilities in exactly the same way.

But recently, there was a problem.

I was due to give a talk about PyScript (a platform for taking MicroPython and Pyodide and making them easy to use in the browser) at EuroPython and I was putting together code examples of ever increasing complexity to present as part of my talk. But I kept hitting strange errors when using MicroPython. My colleague and web-guru Andrea managed to isolate the problem but had been unable to work out why it was happening. Put simply, somewhere in MicroPython's FFI, at that point where JavaScript and MicroPython were interacting, unwanted JavaScript objects were unexpectedly leaking into the MicroPython world thus causing things to crash. Think of it as a JavaScript shaped spanner in the MicroPython works.

This wasn't a good situation to find oneself in, a few days before presenting at one of the Python world's largest and most prestigious conferences.

Damien and I decided to debug the problem, and we recorded ourselves doing so because Andrea wasn't available at the time of our call. We figured that if he could watch our debugging session, he might spot something we hadn't and suggest a fix.

In any case, what followed was a lot of fun, and the video of the debugging session is embedded below.

There are some things you need to know before you watch the video:

  • Both Damien and I know JavaScript to a sufficient level to be "dangerous". We can get stuff done, but we're not guru level like Andrea.
  • Damien is an expert in C (the language used to implement MicroPython) and clearly knows his way around the MicroPython codebase including the FFI that kept crashing. I am familiar enough with C to be able to read it, but not very experienced at writing it, and I certainly don't know anything about the MicroPython internals, including the FFI.
  • We were using a collaboration technique called pair programming: where one developer (Damien) is the "pilot" with the other developer (me) acting as "co-pilot". As you'll see in the video, Damien was sharing his screen so I could see what he was looking at and he'd often describe things, processes or problems to me, only for me to confirm them, explain them back or ask questions as a way to help maintain focus. As the one most ignorant of the language and code-base, I was in a good position to play the beginner to Damien's expert, and ask for clarifications.
  • Our debugging involved taking very careful steps to investigate and change the code so the problem was (happily) eventually revealed, tested and fixed. As the Chinese proverb explains: when crossing a river, it's best to do so slowly and by feeling with one's toes.
  • Both of us were having a lot of fun in different ways. Damien was clearly fascinated by delving into the problem. I was enjoying Damien's virtuosic debugging performance, and found out some fun stuff as we went along.

So grab your popcorn, and enjoy the show:

Rejection and Renewal

In June I was contacted by a friend in the EuroPython community.

They were looking for articles about how to deal with rejection and what to do when one's proposal for a conference talk wasn't accepted. Since they couldn't find anything suitable, they asked ChatGPT for suggestions, and this is how it responded:

In an entirely predictable turn of events, ChatGPT was wrong (no such post existed at that time), and so I puckishly proposed writing such a post. We can't have ChatGPT telling lies can we?

This is it.

It is a rare privilege to find oneself in a community who genuinely cherish and support the participation of all. Such company guarantees we encounter folk who are different to ourselves: an opportunity to learn from each other's contrasting backgrounds, experiences and perspectives. It's why diversity is a precondition for growth: our worlds are mutually enlarged by our differences.

But this isn't an easy journey.

It takes compassion, empathy and thoughtfulness to nurture a safe space where such encounters take place. Participants - through their actions, attitudes and attention - embody and live the inclusive and open minded ethos necessary for such a precious situation. This is a complex relationship between the individual participant's personal outlook and the collective esprit de corps that emerges from the aggregate contributions and interactions of many different individuals.

Here's the challenge: it's not enough for a group to say they're inclusive, open-minded and whatnot... that's just empty virtue signalling. Merely "going through the motions" is an ignorant and insidious sort of cultural cargo cult ~ communication at the expense of community. It happens far too often, and normalizing such behaviour actively diminishes the possibility of a genuinely inclusive and open-minded space.

Rather, such a community spirit springs from the quality of the interactions between individual participants. Sometimes such interactions are unavoidably painful: as when a proposed contribution to a community event is rejected by the organisers.

Yet it is at these moments when embodiment by individuals, and the emergent community spirit, are so important.

This equally applies both to organisers and participants.

If you are an organiser of a community event, and have a call for proposals but limited space, then you will inevitably reject (and therefore exclude) some of the proposed contributions. If you believe in a diverse and inclusive culture then this process may feel deeply uncomfortable and paradoxical.

But this is the puzzle you face, and (I'm sorry to say) there's no right answer.

Actually, the notion that there is an answer to such a situation is, I believe, deeply flawed. Rather, how you choose to conduct yourself, pay attention to the situation and engage with the unfolding events will reveal your community's spirit. I hope you make a conscious personal decision to choose compassion, empathy and thoughtfulness over going through the motions of a performative brain dead cultural cargo cult.

Alternatively for participants, it can be deeply upsetting if your contribution to an event has been rejected. All sorts of complicated feelings may come up (although some may just shrug and move on). I want to reassure you that it is natural and understandable to feel sad, disappointed or upset by such rejection. Lean into such feelings and give them the time and space they deserve. The worst thing you can do is ignore them.

Most importantly, pay attention to what happens next.

If the organisers of the event embody an inclusive and empowering community spirit, their interactions with you will be affirmative, compassionate and supportive. If you engage in good faith, such organisers will likely welcome feedback or suggestions. But please remember they're human beings too and they may respectfully disagree with you. This is what it is to be in a diverse community - you'll meet folk with different outlooks to your own.

It's an opportunity to learn!

As an exercise in self-understanding and growth, you may want to explore why your proposal was rejected (if this hasn't already been explained). Such feedback is best received in a spirit of constructive collaboration. You'll either discover how to improve your next proposal or come to see how the event in question isn't a good fit for what you want to contribute.

If the former, reflect and refine for next time.

If the latter, your niche might be elsewhere, so keep exploring!

If the event organisers are simply going through the motions, you'll know to avoid the event in future.

In any case, be you an organiser of or participant in community events, best of luck. Just remember flouishing and fulfilling communities are all about the quality of individual interactions, something over which you have direct control: how you choose to participate.


8-Bit Archaeology: Part 1

This is the first in a semi-regular series of posts about digital archaeology relating to 1980s era 8-bit microcomputers. In a strange turn of events, not only am I the archaeologist, but it is my own code that is to be uncovered and interpreted.

The aim was to democratise computing. We didn’t want people to be controlled by it, but to control it.

~ David Allen, Project Editor, BBC Computer Literacy Project.

As a child, the first programming language I learned was Sophie Wilson's BBC Basic, written for Acorn's BBC Micro. Without this formative experience, I wouldn't have become a professional software engineer.

Most of my childhood was spent in the 1980s, and in 1982-ish the UK Government ensured every school in the UK had a BBC micro.

A BBC micro from the 1980s
A BBC Micro from the 1980s. Source: StuartBrady, Public domain, via Wikimedia Commons.

My father was headteacher of a school, and so brought his newly arrived computer back home one holiday to figure out how to use it. It didn't take very long to prize the device away from him, and so I started to explore the "Welcome" software, loaded from a tape via a sequence of squeaks and growls (representing the bytes to load into the computer's memory). Since I would have only been eight at the time the user guide was beyond my understanding, so a trip to the local library furnished me with a new book aimed at kids who wanted to play games on their computers. The book in question was Computer Spacegames published by Usborne, a title in their famously brilliant series of colourful and engaging books about coding.

The first proper program I ever typed into the BBC can be found on page 5. It's a sort of text based rocket pilot game... you have to take off before the aliens get you:

10 CLS
30 LET G=INT(RND(1)*20)
40 LET W=INT(RND(1)*40)
50 LET R=G*W
80 FOR C=1 TO 10
120 IF F=R THEN GOTO 190
140 NEXT C
180 STOP

I have a vivid memory of my aunt, uncle and cousins visiting at the time. My cousin Michael (five years older than me) shared a fascination with computers. As a teenager he was clearly at a more advanced level of understanding, and it was from him that I got lots of tips, tricks and encouragement to goof around.

So I did.

I changed line 160 to read:


Then I persuaded my unsuspecting Uncle Colin to play.

Since he's an engineer I think he got the impression there was some sort of simulated Newtonian mechanics going on and took it quite seriously. Of course, if you read the code, it's just a glorified guessing game. When he inevitably failed to take off, I remember he exclaimed "how rude", muttered something about the computer being broken then wandered off to escape any further computer-related space piloting catastrophes. But my eight-year-old self was delighted. I spent the next ten minutes laughing like a maniac at having hoodwinked an adult with my modified code.

Emboldened by this turn of events (and Michael's mischievous teenager-y encouragement) I soon graduated to a new form of entertainment when dragged shopping by my parents. I'd wander off on my own to find the computer stands in retailers. Being a kid, I was mostly ignored as I typed code into the demonstration machines.

Code like this:

10 CLS
30 GOTO 20

I'd walk away (after typing RUN) and surreptitiously observe the next person to encounter the demonstration machines... all telling them they were an idiot ad infinitum. I soon realised the shop assistants could clear my school-boy silliness by pressing the ESCAPE or BREAK keys. Yet I also realised it was possible for the function of such keys to be modified: some of the code ran on my school's BBC micro clearly made sure any accidental or deliberate use of ESCAPE or BREAK didn't interfere with whatever software the teacher had set up for us to use.

I had to wait for the next visit of my cousin Michael to learn how to "improve" my code so it defeated shop assistants. To cut a long story short it's possible to rebind the ESCAPE and BREAK keys to the extent that the only way to stop the machine from doing what it's doing is to switch it off and on again. My cousin pointed out that the answers to such problems could be found in the (afore linked) user guide. In fact rebinding BREAK was explained on page 143 and disabling ESCAPE involved this magic incantation at the start of your source code:

10 *FX 200,3

I was off!

Most importantly, I realised the user guide wasn't a boring manual for adults but, if approached in the right way, it was the source of all sorts of useful knowledge and information and I merely had to figure out how to find it. I was also helped by yet-more-computer-books from Usborne and my local library, a subscription to Acorn User Magazine and various aspects of the BBC's magnificent Computer Literacy Project, including TV programmes like this one:

You can watch all the original 146 programmes online.

But in the end I learned an important ethical lesson.

After leaving my unstoppable and mildly insulting code running on a BBC micro at the Mansfield branch of WHSmith, I was horrified to see one of the retail assistants reprimanded by their supervisor. My joke wasn't funny and I realised my code had consequences for others. A lesson that stays with me to this day.

I also learned that revealing technical skill and knowledge can be tricky and, at times, intimidating to others.

I remember getting a severe telling-off after I tried to help one of my parent's teaching colleagues, the subject matter specialist for computing. I was still at Primary school (probably around ten years old) and the ensuing conversation, in front of my class mates, revealed the teacher's ignorance of some aspect of how the BBC micro created sounds.

The conversation went something like this:

TEACHER: "You can only make sounds like this."
ME: "But Mrs.S, it's easier to make sounds like that."
TEACHER: "You're wrong Nicholas. That simply won't work."
ME: "Oh yes it will."
(I demonstrate the damn thing working.)

In my enthusiasm to share a cool hack, I undermined the teacher and paid the price with a bollocking.

To be clear, I wasn't rude. But I was certainly a confident enough ten-year-old to know I had an easier way to make things work, while being naive to think this would be welcomed. To be fair, I don't think they did themselves any favours by telling me it simply wouldn't work. A more open minded teacher would have said something like, "OK Nicholas, show me your way and let's compare notes", and used the situation as an opportunity for learning. Yet, as a former teacher myself, I know that it's often impossible to go off piste in a tightly structured or time constrained lesson.

Such reminiscences are a prelude to the real digital archaeology.

Last year I found my old BBC micro, and a box full of floppy disks, in my parent's loft. With their permission I took my finds to the UK's National Museum of Computing (based at Bletchley Park ~ a mere 15 minute drive from where I live). I'll describe the details in a follow-up post, but with the generous help of others, I was able to extract the content of the disks.

By way of preview, this link takes you to an online BBC emulator running a sort of "greatest hits" compilation of programmed musical performances.

I put together the disk from various sources floating around my friendship group, and included some of my own code too. The disk's menu system is of my own creation but based upon two other fragments of code I found in a magazine: one for driving a disk menu, the other for using arrow keys for selecting items. I'm also responsible for the rather awful renditions of "The Swan" and "The Road Goes Ever On" (a musical setting of some of J.R.R.Tolkien's poetry from the Lord of the Rings, by Donald Swann). If I remember correctly, I was thirteen years old (in year 9, 1987) when I put this disk together. As we'll see in future posts, it was a significant year for me in terms of coding and music.

Use the up and down arrows on your keyboard to navigate the menu. Keys like RETURN (to make a selection) and ESCAPE (to stop a piece and return to the menu) will behave as usual. However, I'm sorry to report I used the *FX 200,3 trick with "The Swan" ~ you're just going to have to sit through that monstrosity in its entirety without the use of the ESCAPE key.

"You're welcome", says my thirteen year old self. ;-)

This is but a small example of some of the fascinating things I've found.

In future posts I'll reveal more about my programming, dive a little into the technology I was using and try to place it all into the context of my life at the time. As some of you already know, I'm actually a classically trained musician, and this has some bearing on what I've managed to find... or more accurately, what I've managed to find has some bearing on why I'm a classically trained musician, who works as a software engineer with a passion for computing education.

Finally, it turns out that the BBC micro didn't create a legacy of fond memories and technical skill just for me. There are many folks of my age who have similar stories to tell.

Happy new year! More soon...