First attempt. Maglite. The shoe behind the boiler. The torch is too white. It looks like the shoe is on the moon. I am putting this up because it is what I have.

Our House, Huddersfield — Left Shoe, Brown, Behind the Boiler

I want to be straightforward about this one because it's a bit unusual.

The kitchen bulb went on Monday teatime. Standard sixty-watt over the hob. To get to the one over the hob you need a bit of light from somewhere because the spotlight on the cooker hood is the one that's broken — has been since February — and Our Linda has been on at me about it. So I had the torch out. Did the bulb. Stood on a chair, undid the cover, swapped the bulb, put the cover back. Took about four minutes. I were pleased with myself.

Went to put the torch away. The torch lives in the airing cupboard, on the second shelf down, next to the boiler. It's a Maglite that our Gary got me for Christmas in about 2010. Heavy. Reliable. The cupboard light doesn't work and hasn't for years. I use the torch to find the torch's spot, which I am aware sounds daft when I write it down.

I were reaching the torch onto the shelf when my hand caught on summat behind the boiler that weren't the boiler. I thought at first it were one of Our Linda's old wash bags. Pulled it out.

It were a shoe.

Left foot. Brown leather. Slip-on style — no laces, low front, soft sole. The sort a fella might wear with a smart shirt and trousers but not a suit. Size ten. There were a thin film of dust on the upper but the inside of it were clean. Not creased to anyone's foot in particular that I could see. Worn a bit at the heel but not what you'd call worn out.

I sat on the landing for a minute with it on my knee.

I'm a size nine. Our Linda is a five. Our Gary's an eleven, and he's not been in our airing cupboard since about 2008 anyhow.

Took it through to the kitchen and put it on the table. Our Linda were watching the news. I said, "Linda, whose is this?" She paused the news. Looked at it. Said, "well it's not yours, Keith." I said I knew that. She said, "and it's not Gary's." I said I knew that too. Then she went quiet for a bit, which she does when she's working through who's been in the house, and she said, "could it be the gas man's?" I said I didn't think the gas man took his shoes off. She said, "well some of them do. The young one did." Then she said, "actually when did we last have anyone behind that boiler?" and I couldn't tell her, because I didn't know.

She thought about it a bit longer and said it might have been a fella called Vincent who did the immersion in 2015 or thereabouts. He'd come on a Saturday. Took his coat off. She remembers him having a cup of tea. She doesn't remember him leaving in one shoe.

I said I didn't think anyone leaves in one shoe.

She said, "well something happened, Keith."

The photographs

I tried to photograph it on the kitchen table but the light weren't right — strip light overhead, casts a hard shadow off the toe. Tried it on the worktop near the window. By then it were after eight and the daylight had gone. Tried with the torch behind the boiler. The torch is too white. The shoe came out looking like it were stood on the moon.

Second attempt. Kitchen table. Strip light overhead. You can see the shadow off the toe. The corner of the gas bill is in shot. I were not concentrating.

I'll have another go at the weekend with the anglepoise off the desk in the back bedroom. I want to do it properly. The conditions for indoor work are not what I'm used to. But I'm going to leave these two up for the time being. They are what they are.

The matter of where it goes

I want to think this through because I think it matters.

The main sequence is for lone shoes found in Huddersfield and the surrounding areas. Outdoors. In the field. On a moor, a towpath, a layby, a churchyard wall. The conditions of finding are part of what makes it a finding. You walk somewhere and there is a shoe there.

This shoe is in Huddersfield. That part is alright. Our house is in Huddersfield. Has been since 1987. But it weren't in the field. It were behind the boiler in our airing cupboard, which is a different proposition. I cannot in good conscience put it in the main sequence between #318 and what would be #319, because if I did I'd have to renumber my own approach to what counts and I'm not in the mood for that.

I've had a similar problem before. The wellington boots sit in their own ledger because they are their own question of footwear. The Nerja sandal sits in Away Fixtures because it were abroad. This one is neither. It's a proper shoe, found at home, in a place I weren't looking.

I'm going to start a new ledger. I'm calling it Indoor Findings. I expect this'll be the only entry. I hope it is. But it's there now.

What I've done with it

I haven't thrown it out. Our Linda said I could, and I said I couldn't. You don't throw them out. They're not yours.

I've put it back behind the boiler, more or less where I found it, with a small piece of paper next to it that says logged 27/04/26 — KP. The piece of paper is a corner torn off the back of the gas bill. It will be there a long time, I think.

Our Linda said, "are you alright Keith." I said I were. She said, "you've gone a bit quiet." I said I were just thinking about it. She said, "well, don't think about it too long, your tea's going cold."

It were sausage casserole. It were good.

Aye. I've been looking outwards a long time. Hadn't thought to check behind the boiler. That's on me.