Things have not been going so well on the film front.

The problems has been with transferring films to the developing tank in order that I can shower them with assorted chemicals and turn them into negatives. This step requires removing the film from its spool to the developing tank spool; a process that has to be carried out in complete darkness. To theoretically facilitate this I have a changing bag, a black bag into which I put all the components and then sit in a darkened room and place my hands through elasticated holes in the bag and do the changeover. Except usually I don’t.

Sitting with a practice film in the open air, I can move it onto the spool with no problems. But once it has to happen inside the bag, I often end up with a sticky mess. I have lost two 35mm films and two 120 films this way and was on the verge of abandoning the analogue enterprise. But then I discovered that the problem was sweat.

To maximise the dark environment, I would carry out this procedure in a small bathroom with no window. It’s rather hot in there so I am a bit sweaty before I even start. Then put my slightly sweaty hands into a thick, small, black bag and the sweat just amplifies. Get sweat on the edges of the film and it will put sweat on the nylon runners of the developing spool, which makes the nylon sticky, and the whole thing quickly disintegrates in to damp pool of frustration as the film refuses to wind on cleanly. Cue anger, more sweat and a ripping open of the black bag and cries of “fuck this for a game of soldiers”.

My latest disaster was only a couple of days ago. Having carefully put a film through my Yahsica to check the accuracy of the built-in meter and the accuracy of the focusing now that I have changed out the lens, with the settings for every shot neatly recorded on a piece of paper, I had then managed to totally destroy the film during a ten minute sweat and rage session in the bathroom. Time for a re-think.

Much googling and I discovered the problem with too much sweat. After that the answer was obvious, I needed to be cooler. So instead of the toilet I chose the smallest bedroom. Turned on the aircon at dusk and by the time it was dark outside the room was chilled. It was of course still lighter in there than in the bathroom; but I reckoned that didn’t matter given I was using a changing bag. I sat on a comfortable chair rather than on the floor, and cool, calm me transferred the film onto the developing spool with only one restart being required and only a small amount of sweat being generated.

Developed the film and it seems like the in-camera metering is OK, and the focus checks seemed to indicate sharp enough images wide open. Having taken my test shot, I finished off the roll with a couple of photos of a cat.

We make an occasional stop in certain shopping malls so that she who must be obeyed can knock back a shot of wheatgrass juice. Apparently it is good for health, and so it should be for the price they charge. With the arrival of our juicer, the suggestion was made again that we should grow our own. So I did. (When she who must be obeyed suggests “we” do something, that usually means that “I” do it, unless it involves shopping or eating).

Wheatgrass is not that difficult to grow. There are three stages: soak, sprout, plant. I bought a bag of organic seeds and poured a measure of two cups into a jar filled with water and left them overnight to soak. The next day I put them in a strainer and gave them a good rinse, and repeated the rinsing a couple of times a day for two days, by which time they were sprouting. Then I chucked them into a growing tray on top of some soil, covered them, and watered them twice a day. Two more days and they were growing nicely, so I removed the cover and let them grow in the open air for a few more days until they started to split, a sign they were ready for harvesting.

Harvesting was done with a pair of nail scissors and I had to cut a lot of grass just to make two shots of juice.

In the good old days, I banked with HSBC in both Jersey and Thailand, and transferring funds from the UK to Thailand was as easy as logging onto my UK internet banking and pushing some funds towards Thailand. Invariably the money would be in my account here the next day, and with no charge.

When HSBC closed down their personal banking in Thailand, I moved to Bangkok Bank whose services have generally been satisfactory; but transfers from the UK are not as smooth as they used to be. Firstly, HSBC now charges me for the transfer. I expect Bangkok Bank also charge me; but all I see is a sum in my account, converted into baht at a secret rate, and it arrives usually about four days after I send it.

Something of a significant milestone in my camera owning life. For the first time in many, many years I have nothing in my cupboard made by Canon.

Of most significance is the departure of this:

With my storage cabinets emptied of Canon equipment, it seemed appropriate to check what was left. In addition, Leica owning Claus asked if I had a photo of all my Micro Four Thirds gear, and I didn’t.

But now I have:

A rather specific post title, sufficient to immediately lose the interest of my regular readers, but maybe this is something that might be useful to other Yashica owners so I will offer up the heading to Google in the hope it might be used one day.

This morning saw us at a large pharmacy outlet where I offered the sales assistant my choice for the day, a hemostat and a pair of surgical rubber gloves. A rather unusual combination, and I couldn’t resist indulging in my favourite hobby of embarrassing my wife by announcing, in a loud voice, “all we need now are some restraints, a gag and a butt plug, then we will be all set. I just hope she hasn’t escaped from the cupboard while we are away”. I have no idea why she doesn’t see the funny side of such pronouncements.

I remember the old days, when men were men, women were women, and computer games were designed with skill and imagination and could captivate you with intellectual challenges for weeks.

They still make games like that, but they are becoming increasingly rare; because the big money is in games featuring in-game purchases. And to create such a game you don’t need to craft something with complex, balanced game-play. In fact, you need to create the opposite; something that is so unbalanced that the player is drawn in, but has no chance of making significant, speedy progress without purchasing additional items that facilitate progress in the game whilst simultaneous emptying the wallet.

With our previous macro shooting grounds laid low by machinery, Mr. Pattaydaze and myself sought pastures new this morning. This involved jumping through muddy puddles in my truck which I thoroughly enjoyed, although I think I really must wash it soon because visibility is down to not a lot.

Anyway, we found some very promising undergrowth which turned out to be not such a good hunting ground as it first appeared; maybe it will be better if we go after some rainfall. Anyway, here are a few shots:

An afternoon meeting with Claus to check out his latest acquisition, a Leica M 240. He had been shooting with an M8 for some time and had recently upgraded, so I was eager to have a play.

A Leica really is like no other camera on the planet and you have to hold one, use one, to appreciate it. It’s an impressive block of solid engineering. If it was a car it would be a Porsche. The feel of it, the heft of it, the smoothness of the controls, the sound of the shutter; it’s all rather special. Which of course it bloody should be given the price.

Claus has seven Leica lenses, three of which are along for the ride on his latest trip; and they live together in a very smart leather bag.