Passions: When it comes to owning movies, nothing compares to physical media

Alistair Grant, The Scotsman’s political editor, on his love of Blu-rays and DVDs

Forget the castle, the Royal Mile or the haughty charm of the New Town. One of my favourite places in Edinburgh is the film section of the shop Fopp.

I could spend hours in that basement, browsing the shelves, reading Blu-ray blurbs and planning my next purchase.

In many ways, these are heady days for movie lovers. Thanks to streaming, countless films are now just a few clicks away.

Fopp on Edinburgh's Shandwick Place

From the latest blockbusters to cult classics and arthouse gems, the scale of the choice on offer is dizzying. A century of celluloid history at your fingertips.

But for me, nothing compares to physical media. There are good, worthy arguments I could make here, particularly if you care about film preservation, quality or the definitive, director-approved versions of movies.

However, a big part of the appeal is simply the pleasure of collecting. I love having a physical product to take home, watch and then add to my shelves. I love holding it in my hands. I love the artwork, the look of the thing.

And then there’s the extras and audio commentaries, the special edition booklets and making-of documentaries. Don’t get me wrong, I stream films and TV shows like everyone else, and some streaming platforms are brilliant. But I'd prefer to own it on Blu-ray.

Sometimes I worry I'm a bit obsessed. I watch YouTube videos of people talking about their collections. I've had dreams in which I find obscure releases on the dusty shelves of forgotten shops. I can’t get enough of the Criterion Collection's Closet Picks, in which guests are filmed as they select favourites from the label's back catalogue.

The rise of boutique labels has led to a plethora of irresistible releases from the likes of Criterion, BFI, Arrow Video, Second Sight, 101 Films, 88 Films, Shameless Screen Entertainment, Powerhouse Films' Indicator series and Network (sadly no longer trading).

It's not always cheap. I recently spent a slightly embarrassing sum pre-ordering the 50th anniversary collector's edition of The Wicker Man, containing all three cuts of the film.

When our baby daughter was born last year, I had to get rid of loads of books, DVDs and Blu-rays to make space in our flat. Choosing what to keep and what to donate was a brutal, painful process. But slowly, inevitably, my collection is expanding in size once more.

Nothing can be done, I’m afraid. The wee one will just have to make room.