Not many entries in the register happen with Our Linda sat on a bench nearby, but this is one of them. We were going on to town after, so she waited while I did the work, and the notebook records that she didn't hurry me, which I wrote down at the time because it's not nothing and I stand by writing it down.
Left plimsoll, child's, black, the elastic sort, so no laces to record — the notebook is careful to say there were nowt to record rather than leaving the field blank, which is the correct practice. It were under the bandstand rail at Greenhead Park. Bright cold morning, the park busy for early March, and I waited for a quiet spell before taking me photographs, because you get questions otherwise, and a man photographing a child's plimsoll in a park wants to be unhurried and obviously methodical about it. Two photographs, both came out. Condition good, barely scuffed.
Parks are not my favourite territory — I'm a moorland and reservoir man at heart — but they produce, and a find is a find wherever it stands in the register. What I remember of the day, and this is memory, not the notebook, is that we had us dinner in town after and Linda asked how many that made for the year and I said five, and she said it were going to be a big year then, the way she says things. She were right, as the record shows.
Written up August 2026, from the notebook.