Suede. You don't get much suede in this work, and there's a reason: suede doesn't last outside, and this hadn't. Right shoe, brown suede, lace-up, laces tied, on the verge of Woodsome Road below Farnley Tyas, by the field gate. The nap were all matted and dark down one side, the notebook says, though the shape were holding, which suede sometimes manages even when the surface is done for. Condition poor, and honestly recorded as such.
It were the April cold snap — a dusting of snow on the tops first thing, gone by ten, which the notebook records and which I remember, because snow on the second of April feels like a clerical error even when you're stood in it. I photographed the shoe with the gatepost in frame for the record. I like a fixed feature in frame where one offers itself. A shoe on a verge could be any verge. A shoe by that gatepost is Woodsome Road, and in twenty years' time the photograph will still know where it were taken even if I don't.
The notebook closes the entry with the sandwich, which were ham, as Linda were trying summat different, and records that it were fine. I'll add from memory that ham made a few more appearances that spring and then we settled back to the established rotation, cheese and pickle and egg and cress, where things have largely remained. I mention it because the register is a record of the work, and the sandwiches are part of the work, and always have been.
Written up August 2026, from the notebook.