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| Beach Buoy had gone to bed after midnight. He was awake at 3-30 am and up by 4-06am. Leg pain again! He shuffled downstairs and made a coffee. He grabbed a kit-kat and made a nest on the floor out of cushions and blankets to attempt to find a comfortable position. He had a book with him; The road to little dribbling. It was a recent charity shop purchase. He broke the four fingers of the kit-kat into eight half fingers. He paused and reminisced about the olden days when Rowntrees made the bar. Back then it had a paper wrapper with a silver foil layer. You could slide a finger along the silver layer and expose the Rowntree's name that was written on each of the chocolate fingers. A primitive form of brass rubbing. You could then turn the foil layer on a finger end, flatten a base and make a small silver trophy. BRASS RUBBER OF THE YEAR. Beach Buoy glanced over at Stubborn Dog. The Dog was curled up tight in a ball, adding fuel to Beach Buoy's theory that Stubborn Dog was in fact a cat in a dog suit ! The dog had his mate Teddy Bear alongside him. 5 am came and went. Beach Buoy pondered on things. Like how when you are not 100% but you carry on maybe not realising how poorly you are? Three months of discomfort was wearing him out. Beach Buoy knew that once daylight began to show that the Beach would cast its rod and reel Beach Buoy in. At this particular moment Beach Buoy would forgo a Beach for a lie-in for just one day, have a deep deep sleep until around 9 am. Wake refreshed and ready to take on the world. The large clock on the wall dragged itself to 5-08am. Beach Buoy had read a couple of pages of the book and put it down, just as the book's author had just put down Bognor Regis. The nest that Beach Buoy had made was a little disturbed as Beach Buoy shuffled and twisted looking for comfort and more than half hoped that something would click in his back and the pain would be instantly gone. Cushions of various sizes, colours and plumpness were strewn across the floor, with two blankets thrown into the mix. Beach Buoy laid flat on the floor in different positions. An arm here, a leg there in search of that click. It was 5-20 am , the room looked like a ransacked murder scene. 5-31 am ...aka something to six! Beach Buoy crawled over to the electric fan heater that was on in the corner of the room, its fake flames flickered. The heater wasn't throwing out much heat. Its fake flames drawing you in and giving you false hope and a blast of warm, but not hot, dry air. |
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| 5-45 am let there be light. Beach Buoy had enough of doing floor exercises. He headed for the beach bad leg or not... "Keep moving" they said. |
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| 6-15 am Almost sun up as Beach Buoy took the photograph from the promenade. There was a breeze from the west, it carried the voices of early morning golfers across the car park and out to sea. |
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| The beach was stunning. The earlier thoughts of a lie in were banished. |
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| The sun lit up the waves and illuminated the dunes and the village beyond. |
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| They headed south. The light was delightful. |
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| The tide was coming in. |
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| Perfect! No footprints and the song of the skylark for company. |
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| The dune bank, waiting for the Sand Martins to arrive. |
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| They crossed over to the River Tees at North Gare Beach. |
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| They sat a while and had a think as the waves rolled in to the river in a large curve design. |
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| As they headed back, a Hare as big as a dog ran nearby running off to hide near the Pier. |
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| The dune grass, shone in the bright morning light. |
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| Part of Beach Buoy's beach clean for today. |
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| Beach Buoy was heading North but kept on looking to the south and its light was so tempting... |
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| Ditto..... |
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| Other walkers and their dogs appeared. |
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| Meanwhile back in the car park.... time will tell. BEACH BUOY |
