February 2026 — Clisson with the Nikon FE


Maybe I’m a little stubborn, just maybe, but I’m insisting on using my Nikon FE and for my health I have to get out. I had some Tri-X that needed using, and some HP5+ left over, so time to use it. And it does my mental health good too—getting out of the house despite the horrible light and rain.

“They” always say to go out in good light and use golden hour. We haven’t been blessed with good weather lately (understatement of the year contender 2026), and I always say just go out anyway and do it.

I shot two rolls that afternoon—72 frames total. Tri-X and HP5+, both at box speed. No pushing. I developed them in Fomadon LQN because it handles flat light cleanly: shadows stay defined, grain doesn’t get muddy even when the sky gives you nothing. When I scanned them, about half were ok enough to keep—36 frames that worked. Of those, maybe half a dozen were real keepers. That’s how it goes. Not every frame needs to be a masterpiece. Some just need to exist.

In Lightroom I only used the curves tool to pull a bit of separation between the wet stone and the grey sky. I wasn’t trying to manufacture contrast that wasn’t there. The rain had already done part of the work: cobblestones held texture because the light was even, puddles on the stairs created accidental reflections, and the streets were empty enough that I didn’t have to wait for tourists to clear the frame.

I won’t pretend I enjoyed standing in the damp. My shoes got wet. My hands were cold. But I needed to leave the house, and the camera gave me a reason to do it. The film was a deadline. The weather was irrelevant.

As you can see in the following photos, the light wasn’t fabulous, so we adapt. There are still interesting things to be seen.

Shot on Nikon FE with 50mm f/1.8. Kodak Tri-X 400 and Ilford HP5+ rated at box speed, developed in Fomadon LQN. Edited in Lightroom: curves adjusted for shadow separation only.

More Light Than We Imagine


Shooting Nantes at Night with HP5+

One September evening I walked between Place Bouffay and rue des Petits Écuries with the Nikon FE and a roll of HP5+. Box speed—400 ASA. No pushing. No stand development. Just me, tired eyes, and the hope the city would be kind.

It wasn’t always.

Some frames failed outright. Missed focus—my eyes couldn’t lock the split-image patch in the dim light. Others blurred from camera shake at 1/15th, handholding like a fool. I won’t pretend those shots have hidden merit. They’re gone. But the ones that landed? They held more than I expected.

Because Nantes at night isn’t dark. Restaurants pour light onto wet cobbles. Shop signs, streetlamps, even those little menu stands outside cafés—they all feed the scene. I’d guess the focus, press the shutter, and move on. Later, scanning the roll, I found detail in shadows I thought were lost. Not because I’d exposed well—I hadn’t—but because HP5+ gathered what was there even when I fumbled.

That’s latitude in practice. Not a spec sheet promise, but the difference between a usable negative and a blank one when your hands shake and your eyes fail. I didn’t push to 1600. I didn’t need to. I just needed a film that wouldn’t punish me for being human.

The December shots are more traditional street work—grey skies, low sun, the light you expect. Even the coffee cup photo owes something to Instagram. I won’t deny it. We absorb what we see online; it seeps into our framing without us noticing. No shame in that—it’s just how we learn now.

But the September shots that worked feel more like my own. Standing in Place Bouffay as evening deepened, watching light pool around tables and bounce off stone—I wasn’t chasing a look. I was just there, squinting, hoping. And HP5+ met that without fuss.

I’m not claiming mastery. I’m claiming a few good frames out of a roll that also held misses. That feels honest. Cities don’t go dark—they transform. And sometimes, even with bad eyesight and shaky hands, a simple roll of film gives you just enough to keep walking.


All photographs shot on Ilford HP5+ at 400 ASA, developed in standard chemistry. Nikon FE, Nantes—December 2025 and September 2025, Place Bouffay and rue des Petits Écuries.

Opening of the Film Archives, Château de Clisson, February 2017


I had obviously taken a break with the Canon AE1 and spent the whole of December and January in hibernation, as most grumpy bears of my age do. Get Christmas over with, then go back to bed… I like my bed. No, I love my bed!!

Spring was just around the corner, and Kate had managed to awaken the beast and proceeded to tell me what she had planned for the day. It included me, a camera, and the Chateau de Clisson. I had just been “told” by my daughter, and off we headed to Clisson.

Now, the Chateau de Clisson is no small affair by any means. It dominates the centre of the town, sitting atop a hill as an imposing structure. I remember Kate having begged me on numerous occasions to actually go inside, and this time I acquiesced.

It was the perfect opportunity to not only document the inside of this historic site but also to let my playful daughter do what children do best: be cute, or as they say in French, espiègle. At that age, she was still content to pose for the camera, unlike the moody teenager she has become. Yet, sometimes, that same playful nature still manages to shine through.

If you’re curious to learn more about the history of the Chateau de Clisson, I’ve included a link for further reading.

After our outing in Clisson, I retreated to the quiet of my darkroom, where the real magic happens—transforming the captured moments into tangible memories. The familiar routine of developing the film, loading it into the tank, and watching the images slowly emerge never fails to captivate me. Once the negatives are ready and the scans are complete, I file them away in both my digital and analogue archives.

Then, a few years later, I get to share these memories with you. It’s a special kind of nostalgia—the kind that comes with taking time to slow down, reflect, and preserve what matters most. Thank you for joining me on this journey and for allowing me to share these pieces of the past with you.

Classic Chrome Meets Portra 160: Evaluating the Pentax ME Super and Fujifilm X100F


Let’s talk about two of my favorite cameras—the Fujifilm X100F and the Pentax ME Super. While these cameras belong to entirely different eras of photography, they share a surprising similarity in size and portability. I’ve used both extensively, and today, I want to compare their unique qualities without turning it into a clichéd “film vs. digital” debate.

Photography enthusiasts often find themselves in one of two camps: those who champion the convenience and immediacy of digital, and the purists who swear by the timelessness of film. But if you’ve followed this blog for a while, you’ll know I don’t see things that way. Instead, I value what each format brings to the table, and more importantly, how both contribute to the experience of photography.

A Tale of Two Cameras

For me, photography is more than just the final image—it’s about the journey of capturing it. Any Lomography fan will agree: the process is as important as the outcome. When I shoot with the Fujifilm X100F, I appreciate the immediate feedback of seeing the image on the screen and knowing right away what I’ve captured. But with the Pentax ME Super, it’s a different experience. I have a rough idea of what the film will deliver, but the magic isn’t fully revealed until the film is developed. That anticipation is part of the charm.

For this comparison, I’ve chosen photographs from Northumberland. Its moody, windswept landscapes—places like Alnmouth and the Northumbrian moors—present the perfect canvas for both film and digital. The X100F’s Classic Chrome simulation delivers a retro, muted look, while Kodak Portra 160 film, shot through the Pentax, brings warmth and richness to the tones.

The Fujifilm X100F

he X100F has often been called a bridge between the analogue and digital worlds, and I tend to agree. It’s packed with modern features like autofocus and an electronic viewfinder (EVF), but the controls are refreshingly tactile, with dedicated dials for aperture, shutter speed, and ISO. For anyone with a background in film photography, this setup feels familiar and intuitive.

What sets the X100F apart for me, though, is its Classic Chrome film simulation. It offers a subdued color palette that echoes old film stock, perfect when I want a slightly desaturated, vintage aesthetic. Unlike some over-the-top digital filters, Classic Chrome feels organic and subtle—bringing out details in the shadows without overwhelming the shot with contrast.

The X100F Photos

The Pentax ME Super

On the other hand, the Pentax ME Super is all about slowing down. There’s no EVF, no digital screen, and definitely no autofocus. Instead, you rely on a split-prism focusing system and aperture-priority mode. It forces you to be deliberate with each shot, a process that I find incredibly satisfying.

You’ll often hear film photographers talk about being more “in the moment” when shooting on film, and that’s exactly how I feel with the ME Super. The process of carefully composing each shot, setting exposure manually, and waiting for the film to be developed encourages patience and thoughtfulness.

For this outing, I paired the ME Super with Kodak Portra 160, a film that’s become known for its natural skin tones and soft, warm colors. Paired with the 50mm f/1.7 lens, this combination creates images with that unmistakable film character—shallow depth of field, soft highlights, and rich colors.

Lenses and Sensor Size

One of the most noticeable technical differences between these two cameras is their lenses and sensor sizes. The X100F features a 35mm equivalent f/2.0 fixed lens, while I usually use the 50mm f/1.7 on the Pentax. On the sensor front, the X100F has an APS-C crop sensor, giving it a narrower field of view compared to the full-frame 35mm film in the Pentax.

This technical difference goes beyond field of view. The Pentax ME Super has fixed ISO based on the film I choose, so I need to plan ahead for the lighting conditions I’ll be working in. In contrast, the X100F allows me to adjust ISO on the fly, providing flexibility in rapidly changing environments. This is something digital photographers have come to rely on, and it’s undeniably convenient when shooting in variable light.

The Pentax ME Super photos

Comparing the Images

Now, the big question: which is better, the Pentax ME Super or the Fujifilm X100F? Honestly, neither. They’re different tools for different purposes. Whether you’re drawn to the organic feel of film or the convenience of digital, both formats offer something unique. And that’s the beauty of photography—there’s no one-size-fits-all approach.

The sideshow feature shots from both cameras. As you look at them, you might favour one look over the other. The film shots have a warmth and texture that digital sometimes struggles to replicate, while the digital photos are sharp, detailed, and offer instant gratification. But ultimately, this comes down to personal preference, not a matter of one being objectively better.

Final Thoughts

At the end of the day, a camera is just a tool for capturing a scene in a particular way. As long as the final image is pleasing to the eye, I’d say the job is done. So don’t limit yourself to just one format—if you haven’t tried shooting film, give it a go. If you’re a film photographer who’s hesitant to try digital, maybe the X100F will ease that transition with its analogue-like feel.

More than anything, I encourage you to enjoy the process, whether it’s with film, digital, or both. Get out there, take your time, and remember that photography isn’t just about the images you capture—it’s about the experience.


Post Scriptum:
For those of you new to my blog, welcome! I cover everything from camera reviews to photography tips and techniques. Whether you’re a seasoned photographer or just starting out, there’s something here for you. Feel free to leave your thoughts or questions in the comments below—I’d love to hear from you!

The Opening of the Film Archives – Stonehenge August 2016


Stonehenge is something different for most people.  For some it is a historical site in Wiltshire, and despite not being part of the 7 wonders of the ancient world, still remains pretty special.  For some more “alternative” folks, it’s an ancient spiritual centre, and just happens to be on converging energy lines.  For some it’s a day out with the children.

We had come back from a cruise that had taken us around the Canary islands, Lisbon, and Galicia in Spain.  Thank you Mummy, and thank you Daddy!  I think they felt guilty about us always coming up to see them in Northumberland, and wanted us to get a different holiday experience.  Well, different it was!  But that is a totally different story, and the photos can be found in the Olympus Trip 35 article.

So our ship docked at Southampton and we still were in the holiday mood.  I remember as a small boy visiting Stonehenge, and thought it was “the” opportunity to introduce my family to the site.  

It seemed slightly smaller than I remember it.  As do most things if I’m going to be honest with you, but the majesty of the stones remained.  As did the wonder at the fact that these stones had been dragged overland from Wales, and put into place, with the joints still being “rock solid” and down to the nearest millimetre.  I work in a factory that does industrial woodworking and I know what we can do with modern tools and technology and yet here, this massive construction was put together using basic tools.

The children were just taking in the whole experience, and rather bemused at the sight of Japanese tourists being shoved around the site and taking the obligatory selfie.  They also seem quite bemused by the amount of school groups being led around.  

I preferred, as often as I do, to just take my time and take it all in and get some photos of the place.  With the 40 mm zuiko lens I was getting some lovely environmental shots that you can see below.  

My wife, however, was in tears.  Crying her heart out.  She later confided in me telling me how she just felt overcome with emotion.  Maybe those lines of energy for those alternative folks might have something in them…

In Defense of Film


Is film photography too expensive? Think again! Many assume that shooting film is a hobby reserved for the wealthy, but it doesn’t have to be. With the right approach, you can enjoy the unique aesthetic and creative process of film photography without breaking the bank. In this article, I’ll share my personal experiences and tips for saving money on film, developing, and gear, proving that the joy of film is accessible to everyone.

Often, even the tiniest things can spark a desire to write. In the infamous world of internet comment sections, people can have different opinions—a good thing, as it makes us reflect on our own positions. It challenges our perceived wisdom and questions us in ways that can be disarming. What’s obvious to me might not be to someone else.

I was talking to an Australian lady, likely of my generation since our photography journeys started the same way—with film. Except this lady has gone fully digital, keeping her film cameras as a reminder of her film days being over. Less hassle, less expense, less stress, and less “faffing about,” she said.

At first, I was taken aback. I love the film aesthetic in my photography. I like the predictability of film grain, as opposed to digital noise. But most of all, I’m in love with the process. I love the slower pace of film photography—none of this “spray and pray” nonsense. I appreciate how I become more mindful when shooting film, as each shot counts. I like the way an old film camera looks around my neck. And as the internet meme says, “I know about photography. I’ve been initiated into the exclusive circle of purists.”

The lady talked about the prohibitive prices of film and labs, which, let’s be honest, is a valid point.

Costs of Digital vs. Film Photography

I’ll talk about my kit and initial outlays compared to my film expenses. I bought my latest two digital cameras in late 2017 and 2018. My X100F cost around €1400, and my Canon 6D Mark II around €1200. I spent about €300 on a teleconverter for the X100F, and I probably have about €2500 worth of kit for the Canon, including speedlites, lenses, and filters. Then there’s the Fujifilm XT2, bought second hand for €400, with a couple of lenses totaling around €500.

This kit, though older, works well and is largely sufficient for my needs. As mentioned in my article “I Want It, But Do I Need It?”, I’d like a Leica, but do I need one? Would I refuse one if someone gave me one? Heck no! You can see the results throughout this site, and the images are great.

Let’s move on to film. Yes, if you love that Kodak Portra look, you’ll be spending a pretty penny. I have a certain nostalgia for the days when the prices hadn’t doubled. But—and this is important—not all film photography has to be done using Kodak Portra. There are more accessible films, especially black and white, that cost less. A roll of Fomapan 100 costs me around €5.50. So for less than the price of a pint of Guinness, I can get 36 shots. For a little more, I can go with Kentmere or even Ilford black and white film. I still have one roll of Portra left and a pack of five Tri-X medium format rolls.

Developing at Home

Ah, but then you have to send them to a lab to be developed. Again, a valid point. The cost for developing colour film where I go is less than €7 per film. I’ll share a little secret: I invested in a kit to develop my films at home. It cost about €140 initially, but now all I worry about is buying the chemistry. Yes, €30 for a developer seems steep, but I can develop 16 to 24 films with a bottle, depending on the dilution. I also invested €250 in a film scanner to produce digital files for editing.

Collecting Film Cameras

You might have noticed that I’ve talked about film but not film cameras. I started collecting a while back before hipsters raised the prices in the secondhand market. The most I paid for a film camera was just over €100, and the cheapest was €15. These film cameras are generally solid, and the lenses are great. The technology, though a little less modern (understatement of the year!), still works, and older cameras don’t even need batteries. And even those that do, the batteries last for ages. None of this “Do I have spare batteries for the X100F?” nonsense.

Each shot is taken on a brand new “sensor,” compared to shots on a digital sensor. And less dirt gets onto this sensor.

The Joy of Film

Don’t get me wrong, I love digital photography for its convenience and spontaneity. I can see my images right away and get instant feedback and gratification. With film, that gratification isn’t instant. You have to be patient and wait, but for people of my generation, that might be infuriating, it’s something we grew up with and accepted. I continue to accept it.

I enjoy using a machine sometimes older than me, knowing the image quality will be there. I know that with a certain film, I’ll get a certain result. I like the slower pace. If you visit the Film Photography page or the Film Archive page, you can decide for yourself if it’s worth the hassle, the expense, the stress, and the “faffing about.” I think it is, and I maintain that film has as much a place in photography as it ever did.

The Future of Film

Does film have a future? I think it does. Leica has relaunched the M6, Pentax has the new Pentax 17, and Kodak has the Kodak Ektar H35. The disposable cameras of yesteryear are still being produced and it has become the fashion to us them at weddings for that affordable yet classic look of film. Film photography continues to be popular with Gen Z and millennials. Case in point: my 25-year-old son nicked one of my Kodak Retinette 1B’s and a roll of film. I suspect my daughter might have her eye on one of my film cameras, too.

One thought came to mind whilst answering one of comments with the person saying that they “will never go back.”  I am old enough to remember when microwaves fist came out.   They were sold to us as being thoroughly modern and machines that could do everything so quickly and conveniently.  Except they couldn’t.  For certain tasks on the kitchen they are wonderful and far exceed the way we “used” to cook.  But they can’t do everything.  They have their place in the kitchen.  And will always will do.  But a slowly simmered boeuf bourguignon that infuses its odours through the kitchen will always have a special place in my heart.  Much like using film to capture my images…