I'll deal with the obvious first. Yes, this is Heckmondwike, and yes, 2015 is the year the folder opened. The notebook says I were 'over that way for other reasons', and them reasons are the folder, and I'm not going to pretend otherwise now. But I want to be plain: this shoe is not that shoe. This were a left trainer, black, laces tied, hardly worn, on the verge along Green Lane, found on the walk back to the car. An ordinary shoe, found and confirmed proper, and it goes in the main sequence like any other. The folder is for unconfirmed reports. The register is for shoes I've stood in front of. The two don't mix and never have.
Mild morning, spitting on. The notebook says the flask were not opened, which tells you it were a short stop — I'd have been keen to get back, I expect, though the notebook doesn't say why and I'm not going to invent a reason eleven years on.
Hardly worn, laces tied. I noted it, I didn't touch it, and I drove home. Number 76.
Written up August 2026, from the notebook.