The child's shoe above Butterley. Left, blue, on the path above the reservoir. The entry is eight words and I've always thought that were the wrong length for the find.
I remember more than I wrote. I remember it were small, and I remember standing with it a while before moving on, which weren't my habit in them days — the sitting come later, with the stool. No photograph is listed and none survives. No conditions.
I've been past that path plenty of times since and I always look. There's never been owt else there. Some entries you write short because there's nowt to say. This one I wrote short because I hadn't worked out how to say more.
Written up August 2026, from the notebook.