Powered By Blogger

Sunday, 6 January 2019

01 JANUARY 2019 SEATON SANDS HARTLEPOOL.

As Beach Buoy closed the front door of the house, he could hear the not too distant Church bells strike 8.
He started the van at 8-01 am.
It was a minute later than the same task yesterday.
Some of the street lights again turned off as he passed underneath them.
He had a short detour to do before it was beach time.


Detour completed, he headed for the beach. He had Stubborn Dog and Sweep for company again today.
It was New Year's Day.
As they drove down Station Lane, an obvious party-goer from last night's celebrations had turned into a home-goer but still with last night's party attire on.
"Must have been a fancy dress party?"
Beach Buoy wondered.
Another of last night's lost was sat on the low wall outside the Supermarket that stood just beyond the Railway Bridge. He was talking into his mobile phone and looked as if he was asking someone for a lift home?
A dependable looking Mother scuttled out of the shop.
With a "Its open; I have milk!" look about her.
Beach Buoy pictured her house, packed with overhung people desperate for tea or coffee before they too, headed out into a Brave New Year, in fancy dress.

"C'mon Spiderman time to go!"
"And take Charlie Chaplin with you!"

A car went by with just one side-light working in the slowly brightening morning light.
"The Bobbies might stop you for that?"
Beach 
Buoy thought.
"Then they might ask what time did you last have a drink?

Next thing you know- over the limit from last night"

Beach Buoy drove to the Car Park behind the Rock Shop for a change.
It was a shop that sold Rock; the edible type, not Music or Stones or even the two combined as in The Rolling Stones.


As he parked up, a World War Two Tank drove in and parked nearby.
Well, at least that is what it sounded like.
In fact it was a Ford Fiesta with a blown exhaust. It wasn't an old tatty car as you may have expected; surprisingly, it looked almost new.
It 
definitely didn't sound it though.
The occupants of the shiny, audible car didn't seem that bothered about the noise. They just sat talking, looking at their mobile phones with the 
noisy engine running. 


As they locked the van, Beach Buoy glanced at the Clock-Tower.
8-20.....
 the art deco styled tower stated as the Church Bells struck for 8-30.
Beach Buoy mused ;
"Some time difference that!
 They are only a couple of minutes walk from each other.
Someone could end up late for Church."
He checked the time on his mobile phone.
It was  him that was late for Church!
About forty years too late.

He stopped going when he left the Boys Brigade.
Typically he had been measured for the uniform, but never did get it. Now there's an idea should he ever get that New Years Eve fancy dress party invite. He could spend the whole night explaining what he had come as.
 He could hear the conversation now. 
"No! Not Thunderbirds!... Boys Brigade!"

On the promenade wall a lone Pied-Wagtail stood watching the three file past, one pulling, one holding and one dragged, like some odd Conga dance troupe that ranged from too keen to really can't be bothered.
It was Pied but there was no wagging going on. The bird's gaze followed the beach-bound group as they went by and disappeared down a ramp to the sands.
Out near the water's edge, the 7 am club were way behind their 
usual schedulele. They were still heading south; maybe it was a combined New Year's resolution ?
1. MUST HAVE MORE SLEEP-INS?
They stopped the walk short, to chat to another Dog-walker, then headed back north as one; they were a good twenty minutes short of their usual destination.
Beach Buoy pictured another addition to their resolution list.
2. MUST DO SHORTER WALKS?
They came alongside Beach Buoy and his two Beach companions.
 The large friendly poodle came 
bounding over for her neck scratch. As Beach Buoy had two dogs today, the coming together was less than organised than was the norm.
She got her neck scratch, but there was a mass of legs, dog-leads, heads and tails.

You've got another one?" the club asked.
"It's the daughter's.
" came Beach Buoy's standard reply.

The three headed south. 
It was just about a no glove day.
The fresh wind came from the north with a chill that said, "You'll never guess where I have been!"
"Flipping Iceland!"
 thought Beach 
Buoy.
He decided it was a glove day after all and put on his emergency gloves.
a.k.a Pockets!
Out at sea the sky was, oddly 
enough, Sky Blue.
To the south, the sun tried to break free from
the clouds.

Up near the dunes a Jogger ran north.
He was completely black, apart from a white "Go 
faster" stripe on each arm. Even his face was black.
He was 
wearing a Black Balaclava over his face as protection against the biting wind from the North.
As that Jogger passed, then another appeared.
No word of a lie; he was running backwards!
Beach Buoy studied his technique, wondering that if he filmed it and played it in reverse would it look like he was actually jogging normally. He came to the conclusion it would look fine; it was a good technique. He 
wasn't even attempting to glance back and check for any possible collisions!
Beach Buoy also came to the conclusion that he may had forgotten his balaclava and that was indeed why he was running bum first.

A lady with three small dogs, all on leads had reached the Grey Rocks.
She was wearing bright red wellington boots.
They looked like they could be made of red 
liquorice; they were that shade of red.
She took the dogs off their leads, then they and her went into the sea a little.
Perhaps she was testing the waterproof capabilities of the liquorice? Perhaps hoping it would a suitable Plastic or Rubber 
alternative. 
Beach Buoy was going to leave them be and turn back earlier than usual but when he glanced again, the three dogs were back on their leads on and they were heading north.
Welly test complete!
Beach Buoy continued south as far as the World War Two anti- tank blocks looking for damage and any floating red liquorice...
"That Ford Fiesta must have got in somewhere!" 
he thought. " Maybe it was parachuted in?"
The sun came out fully as they headed back south, it sent Beach Buoy's long narrow shadow 
(Oy! --- the sun does that!)
it sent his shadow running north, to the shops to buy an ice-cream, stopping it about half-way along the beach to add "Get Monkey blood on mine (Raspberry Syrup.) and one for yourself too!"
The shadow paused, nodded and carried on... meaning it continued north.
It did not not "Carry-on" and start make a flying bird shape, a barking dog head or a Palm Tree (Just a hand.).
Beach Buoy played the shadow catch-up game as he headed back North, never getting any closer.

The morning was spectacular.
Almost a perfect day.
Beach Buoy paid little attention to others as the beach started to become busy.
He eyes were drawn to a man in a red liquorice coat,
"They must be testing the full range today ?" Beach Buoy pondered.
The man was stood directly on the water's edge and seemed to be recording the sound of the sea on his mobile 
phone?
Or maybe he was having an argument and had just said .."Yer? ....well tell to to the sea!"
 and was kindly holding the phone out for the 
planned discussion to take place?

Beach Buoy's walk was nearly done; the beach belonged to others now. 

They passed the Clock Tower at precisely 9-50 am or maybe 10am; depending on which clock you went by.
The Church clock struck ten.....
BEACBUOY.