I WAS expecting at least one cravat. Or a monocle. Leather boots and jodhpurs perhaps.

But no, on the surface nothing obvious sprang to eye to distinguish the members of Teign Film Makers from your average Monday night club gathering.

The steady stream entering the front door of Bitton House in Teignmouth could for all the world have been flower arrangers, cat protectionists or vegan driving instructors.

But on closer inspection the signs were there. Or rather the sign was, neatly stitched into the left breast of jumpers in a selection of deep blues from various vintages.

And it gave away more than their allegiance. Some bore the legend 'Tine Cine Club', others 'Teign Cine and Video Club', while those garments which had yet to clock up serious miles in the washing machine revealed their wearers to be members of 'Teign Film Makers Club'.

Here was a history of amateur film-making captured in pullover form. It was interesting not only as a record of the march of technology, but also the willingness of this group to change with it. 'Adapt and survive' could well be their motto.

The most recent name change, decided upon at a recent committee meeting, looks to me to be one for the future. It will still be relevant even when 4D hologram projectors and smell-o-vision screens hit Currys.

But for all the advancements in video kit since the very first hand-held camera units were snapped up by budding Cecil B DeMilles in the early 1970s, the art of film-making has remained the same, even if some of the editing techniques have not.

One of the club's oldest members — although not the oldest member of the club, that would be 93-year-old Rex — is John, who, perhaps unsurprisingly, is wearing one of the 'Cine' tops. He has seen most of the changes ushered in by progress since first contracting the film-making bug and joining the club in 1972.

"I had an uncle who had a Russian clockwork cine camera and it was just fascinating for us as children to see a real moving image," he says.

"From then on I had an ambition to get a camera. My first film was of my mother-in-law's 70th birthday party. She kept saying, 'Why are you all making such a fuss? Anyone would think it was my last birthday'. She died four days later."

Jim, another of the club's seasoned members, had a similarly memorable first stab at film-making, and is just as glad he did.

"I had one of the first cine cameras, partly because the children were small. And I made my first film on January 28, 1968," says Jim, who has reason to be specific.

"Mum died in Christmas that year but I took some wonderful film of mum and dad's golden wedding anniversary."

A carpenter and joiner by trade, Jim last year celebrated 50 years of marriage himself with wife Mary. He has also remained true to making films for pleasure.

"I shudder to think how much I've spent on cameras over the years," he shudders. "I've got four now. I did always like to keep up with things as they progressed.

"It's 100 per cent a hobby for me. As an amateur film-maker you have to do it all. When you watch a film or a programme and at the end there are hundreds of names on screen you think, 'I've done all that...'"

Jim began his amateur career as did many others from those days, with Super 8, before moving to Video 8 and then straight to digital video. With each change in medium he had to learn new techniques, not all of them sorely missed.

"I used to edit my films using literally a pair of scissors and sticking the film back together," he says. "I've still got my old camera. It's quite interesting to see how we used to do it.

"In some way computers have taken away a lot of the art of film-making. Today you just push a button and scrub it out. You had to be much more thoughtful in the days of actual film.

"With a young family, it was very expensive to just buy a cine camera. And I didn't like putting film on the cutting room floor I can tell you."

John agrees, and considering the palaver these early pioneers went through, it's little wonder they embrace change so readily.

"You needed a completely different set of skills then compared with today," says John. "We used to use this glue to stick the film together once you had edited it. I even had a machine which chamfered each edge to make it go through the gate smoothly.

"I had one of the first Super VHS cameras, but to justify the expense I thought I should start to do weddings.

"But as domestic cameras got better and better it was harder to show that what we could do was better than Uncle Dick."

Unfortunately, Uncle Dick could not be with us tonight, so it was up to the members to prove what they could do was better than each other. Tonight they were to do battle for the Dodsworth Cup, awarded for the best documentary.

After a brief introduction from the club chairman, Ralph, the lights dimmed, Don, who stoically wrestled with the projection equipment all night, pressed play, and battle commenced.

The first feature was made by Jim, and starred Jim, Mary and a huge mass of granite. 'Rock Walk Revived' showed the first phase of the, er, 'improvements' to the rock-based walk of the same name and Jim had done a pretty good job.

We watched as the trees were all pulled down, men in hard hats talked into walkie-talkies and the sound of chainsaws rang out across the Bay.

One of the final scenes was shot on steady-cam — or not-very-steady-cam as it happened.

"The following is a bumpy ride on a double-decker bus to enable us to look over the hoarding," announced Jim the narrator as Jim the cameraman did his best to record behind the wooden curtain.

It looked like it had been napalmed. Perhaps it was Jim the director's nod towards Apocalypse Now.

There was definitely one towards another certain auteur, famous for getting in the way of his own camera, as Jim and Mary made a couple of brief cameos.

"I always try to get myself into the picture," Jim told me afterwards. "A lot of the films will end up with my descendents and they will be able to say, 'look there's that silly old so-and-so'.

"And I always put my face at the end of the film. Most people know what Alfred Hitchcock looked like."

As Don changes the disc, we each award marks on a sheet of paper, the most important column being our 1,2,3 of favourites. It feels a bit like being on the Oscars panel, only no one has offered me any bribes. Yet.

Film two was made by another of the club's Johns, and its title, 'Holy Horrors' described its content well. Take note 'The Constant Gardener'.

Anyway, John's film is all about gargoyles and as such features a lot of shots of gargoyles. It also functions well as a documentary, imparting lots of facts — gargoyle comes from the French word for throat — and being generally interesting.

"So," announces John by way of conclusion, "the next time you're on holiday, look up. You might find you're being watched." Take note naturists.

Next up is 'Cine' John, whose film 'The Making of Bury Me' features the good old Cornish boys of the Cape Cornwall Singers posing for their album cover shots before singing their famous tune.

Gordon rounds off the night with a feature on Trenchard's Brats, graduates of the RAF's apprentice school at Halton among whose number he counts himself, and their most famous alumnus, Sir Frank Whittle.

Gordon's use of archive footage and historical perspective betrays his past but the editing techniques, it turns out, are all learned from the club.

After 12 years in the RAF Gordon retrained as a videographer with the Inland Revenue, a skill which he has used since 2003 to record football matches for Torquay United and Exeter City, among others. But while the film Gordon shoots has helped Pauls Buckle and Tisdale in player analysis for their respective clubs it has not in making him an accomplished director.

"The trick with filming the football is to get as many players in the shot as possible," he says. "The manager wants to see who is where and what they do.

"But I don't have to edit it, that's why I came here to the club, to learn how to be a film maker as opposed to a videographer."

He is clearly not doing a bad job of either but, as we break for tea and a biscuit, Gordon is not expecting his name to be drawn from any golden envelopes tonight. "I'll probably come last like I always do."

Not so. When Ralph reveals the result Gordon has come third, behind Jim and in between the two Johns.

The rest of the night is spent watching some short films, before we enjoy the result of the club's recent indoor filming night. The idea was to shoot a film entirely inside their HQ, which, it being faintly regal and suitably grand, allowed them some artistic licence.

Jim was the driving force behind the story and, true to form, appeared in a cameo role as Farmer Greenfield, a hilarious creation from the Russ Abbott school of caricature.

A number of other club members popped up also, with both Johns, Mary, Beryl and even Rex, who at this stage of his career is in danger of being typecast as an elderly gent.

The Windfall was a joy to watch and epitomised the club's spirit of adventure and willingness to all muck in. Some, it might be said, more willingly than others.

"It's a job to get some people to act," says Mary, who starred as a previously unknown descendent of Lady Atkins and heir to her fortune. "I just seem to get cajoled into these things."

One thing was abundantly clear from the film, and even clearer as I surveyed the rest of its audience. All the actors were from a golden age of their own.

Where were the new faces? Where, even, is the new Kristian Digby, the daytime TV presenter and a former club member?

"We've had young people along to the club but they look around and all they can see is grey hair. They have never stayed for long," says Ralph, who has been chairman for the past four years.

"There are no fine young men or women for them to interact with. But putting myself in their shoes, and going back a few years, I suppose I would have reacted the same. We're not all going to turn into J Arthur Ranks, but the opportunity is still there for young people. I think, when you get older you are more interested in the social side."

That much is clear. And the obvious fun they had making The Windfall shone through in the looks on their faces as they watched, laughing as each familiar friend delivered a line or stole a scene.

If the kids don't want to join in that's their loss.

You don't have to be young, rich or burdened with an artistic temperament to make films the way Teign Film Makers do. Turns out you don't even need a cravat.