Number ninety-nine, and I'll say now that the notebook makes no mention of the number, because I weren't counting ahead. Right trainer, white gone grey, in the gorse at Royd Edge above Meltham. Laces in but loose. Gorse is awkward ground for the work — you can see a shoe in it well enough, but getting a proper look without interfering takes care, and you can't interfere.
Warm and blowy that day. Flask conditions good in the lee of the wall, which is the sort of detail I'm glad the notebook kept, because knowing where the good lee is at Royd Edge is hard-won information. No stool — no feeling about it, the entry says, and the system by then were honest enough to record the absence of a feeling as well as the presence of one.
The photograph came out. White gone grey against gorse is decent contrast even for my camera. A straightforward entry, fortnight after the Wessenden day and a good deal shorter, which is how the register breathes — a big day, then plain ones. I didn't know the next shoe would be the hundredth. The notebook didn't either.
Written up August 2026, from the notebook.