Last of the year, and the notebook knew it at the time — "Last of the year" is written in the entry itself, which is about as sentimental as Notebook Three gets. The east bank at Blackmoorfoot, four days before Christmas. Right shoe, black slip-on, so no laces to note, with frost on it. A frosted shoe on a clear cold morning is a crackin' sight, and I'll allow myself that word for it once.
Cold and clear, and the entry ends "Home for dinner," which I'm pleased made it into the record because it's the truest line in the notebook. Fifteen shoes in 2013, Barry's first submission, snow lying into the spring and that hot fortnight in the middle. I closed the notebook on the twenty-first of December and didn't open it again till the January. Right you are, 2013.
Written up August 2026, from the notebook.