Ah, week two. Well, let’s just say I’m better prepared for week 3, but this was a bit of a landmark week for me as, after taking loads of advice, I developed my own film whilst the male things watched Star Wars. Of course, the kids stormed the kitchen for snacks the moment the tricky develop/30 second stop/fix needed doing, but hey. I have pictures.

For the purposes of 52 rolls, to make things extra difficult, I have a cunning plan. For years I’ve worked for a website that started with the maxim of starting at your doorstep and working outwards (that’s you, Cathy C). Of course, the philosophy has now changed but I’m darn well going to reclaim this idea, so that hopefully there will be some sort of aim to my 52 rolls plan, rather than wazzing away a lot of film and chemicals. I will of course digress often, as the website did, to meet needs as they happened – but hopefully there will always be a few pictures that follow this path.

So, last week featured my inner sanctum – physically in the form of my front room. I’m going to get all the way out to the back garden this week. Get me. This ties in with some very grumpy posts I’ve been adding to Instagram called Leicestershire: A difficult place to love. Probably the least I say on this subject the better, but perhaps I’ll grow to like it a bit more over the next few weeks? Hmm.

I’m not going to list all the developing times (though I’ve had to give in and note them down on the film backing paper) but I am going to vaguely wonder what made my film mottled, as has happened before with a different film/developer. It could be the mustard Holga I borrowed…but it’s most likely my general lack of care and attention that means that the cameras are kept in my office conservatory – not a room known for it’s temperate climate. It is ICY right now.

I’m also going to give a little bit more thought to perhaps not getting the negatives covered in dust. But then life is short and I probably don’t care that much. Better to get on and get things done!

And a few leftovers from week 1, still hanging around, like festive stilton in the fridge.