This were the first shoe on the new camera, which I'd bought from Argos in town the month before, and it's the same camera I use today, so number 128 has a small place in the history of the operation whether it likes it or not. Right plimsoll, white, child's, small, under the bandstand railing at Greenhead Park. The bandstand railing is a spot I still glance at whenever I'm passing, out of respect for the occasion.
Mild morning, no wind. Three photographs come out clear enough to show the shoe, which were three more than the old camera would have managed on its best day. They're grainy, and every photograph since has been grainy, and I've never bothered to fix it. They suit the subject.
A child's shoe in a park gets people asking how it come to be there, and that's not really the point of what I do. I noted it, photographed it, and had my tea on a bench with the bandstand for company. The notebook doesn't record the sandwiches for this one, which is unusual for 2018, but I'll not invent them now. Where the book is quiet, I'm quiet. The plimsoll itself were in fair shape, barely worn. Small shoes generally are.
Written up August 2026, from the notebook.