A polished shoe out of doors stops you. Right shoe, black, the office sort, laces in, and polished not long since — the rain were beading on it, which polish does and neglect doesn't, so the polishing were a matter of observation, not guesswork. It were on the towpath at Shepley Bridge, sat under the bench rather than on it, tucked in as if out of the rain, though I only say that's how it looked, not why it were so.
The book records what I always record when a find invites a story: I don't speculate, that's not really the point of what I do. I'll admit a polished office shoe under a bench on the Calder and Hebble invites more of a story than most. The register holds the shoe. Whoever wants the story can supply their own.
Rain most of the morning, steady rather than heavy, which is workable rain — you can photograph in steady rain if you keep the camera under the hood between shots, and the book records three photographs taken from under me hood, which is a technique I'd refined by 2019 and still use. Flask conditions good. Mirfield were quiet, the canal were quiet, the rain kept everyone sensible indoors, and the shoe and I had Shepley Bridge to ourselves, which is how I prefer to conduct these things when the weather will arrange it for me.
Written up August 2026, from the notebook.