The spillway at Butterley is a fine piece of Victorian work in its own right and worth the walk on its own account, shoe or no shoe. I've said that to plenty of people over the years and most of them nod politely and change the subject, but the notebook says it too, so at least the notebook and I agree. Them stepped stones were cut by men who expected the thing to last, and it has.
Right boot, brown leather, well worn, tongue gone entirely. On the spillway steps themselves. Laces present but rotted through — you could see they'd give if anybody pulled them, which nobody would, because you can't interfere. One winter out at least, going by the leather, which had that dull, drunk-up look leather gets when it's taken a season of Marsden weather without complaint.
The clocks went forward that night, so I'd made a point of using the morning properly, and it paid off all round. Flask conditions excellent — the notebook has it underlined, which I don't do often. Cheese and pickle and a Penguin, sat where I could see both the boot and the spillway at once, which is about as good as a sit-down gets. The notebook finishes the entry with a word I ration carefully, and I stand by it a year on: it were crackin'. Photographs not mentioned in the notes, which reading it back likely means I were enjoying the morning and forgot the count, and I'd rather own that than invent a number.
Written up August 2026, from the notebook.