This is the entry where the stool lets me down, or more accurately where the ground lets the stool down. Left trainer, white gone grey, laces tied, on the conduit path below Deer Hill. Rain most of the morning, cleared by ten, and the book records I waited it out, which sounds patient but mostly means sitting in the car with the flask.
I'd brought the stool because I had a feeling about it — that's the phrase in the book, and it's the phrase I still use — but there were nowhere level to set it. The conduit path is all camber. So I stood, which is what I'd have done anyway before spring 2016, and it did me no harm. The feeling, for what it's worth, were about right: a tied-lace trainer on a conduit path is worth time, and I gave it time on my feet.
Three photographs, one came out. Flask conditions fair. Nowt else in the book for that day, but I remember the light after the rain cleared were the sort you get maybe twice a March, and I remember being glad the one photograph that came out were taken in it.
Written up August 2026, from the notebook.