I put all the cameras away last week, the shitty ones in a box, the good ones in the bag... The manfrotto's sitting there, forlorn. I got a roll of cheap Kodak done in Tesco the other week, which I'd taken with the Kodak Pony during a fraught, flash-wouldn't-work episode, (that's the best of the roll, below). And I've got a roll of EFKE 127 sitting on the coffee table, to dev, and then that's it for photography in Saltcoats.
And when we get to Glasgow, I'm still on for roll four from the Old Film Project, which I'm going to use at the Necropolis, with the F. Just tonight I've managed to get a bargain on a 28mm f3.4 Nikkor-H, which I've got some ideas for. The move should be early December, but I might be wanted in Shanghai around that time.
Which rather rambling and futile blog post is indicative of the way things are when you've been expecting to move house for months, and then it becomes imminent, but yet still with no exact date. And you try to just get on with family life and with work, but, bloody hell it's hard on the nerves. "When we get to Glasgow" is wearing very thin, now. We're looking at the pantomimes and thinking, "Will we be a taxi ride away from that?"
Christmas. Surely we'll be there by Christmas?