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| Beach Buoy woke and reached for his phone. 5-05am Sun 26 May. Well, even at first blurry glance across the room to the window it was fairly obvious that the Sun part was a lie. As always, once awake it was time to move. By the time Beach Buoy faffed on, it was a 5-30am car park; an empty car park. It was one of those days when timing would play a large part in the enjoyment of the day. On the way to the car park, the van windscreen wipers had been used for a short while. He could go on beach and get a soaking, but maybe have a completely dry walk if he waited a while? Waited, turned over and gone back to sleep? No, that won't happen. When they reached the sand, Stubborn Dog stopped every ten steps or so. He sniffed the sea air, with a look of... "Where is everybody?" on his face. With a breeze on their backs they headed towards the in-coming sea. Out on the horizon, a ship's orange lights twinkled like distant stars on the murky morning. They walked as far as the Strand line and headed south. The tide was way out but coming in. They crossed numerous shingle patches as their walk progressed. Spits of rain became spots. Beach Buoy's hood went up. Beach Buoy had put two waterproof coats on his little beach mate, so Stubborn Dog was fine, even if the day wasn't. It was 5-51 am. Beach Buoy turned to look north, it confirmed that the beach was still empty. RESULT! As they continued south the distance between the water's edge and the strand line had narrowed, they found themselves mid-way between the two. Spots of rain became spits again, so down came Beach Buoy's hood. The sky was grey and lumpy. The sea was grey but not so lumpy. The grey looking Wind Turbines turned as one over to the south end of the bay. The spits of rain stopped. The Skylark burst into song. Beach Buoy mentions the Skylarks a lot. To him they sing a song of hope, a song of longer warmer days and the sun-setting evening strolls that go hand in hand with them. He knows too well that when they fall silent and take flight that it is the beginning of the end; winter's cloak will unfold and shroud the world. They reached the grey rocks just as the sea claimed them. He could clamber over them as he had done so many times before, but not today. The spits returned as Beach Buoy surveyed the beach and beyond. It was still an empty beach. Over to the north the Headland's Historical and familiar silhouette stood out proudly. Directly in front of Beach Buoy was the Sea Serpent, it twisted and turned as it woke from its sea slumber. They turned to head back north, as the tide was noticeably returning to claim the beach. A Large Crow landed nearby and bounced upon landing as if it had landed onto a trampoline, looking sightly embarrassed it began to beach-comb the water's edge. Four Oyster Catchers took off from the dunes, as they did so, one made a beep beep sound. A beep beep like a "Get out of the way." beep beep from an irate car driver. A beep beep like one you hear when you are laid in bed, late at night and a neighbour is being dropped off by a friend. They sit with engine running, the neighbour steps out of the car with a vocal farewell and a slam of the car door... and there it is ..... BEEP chufffing BEEP! as the prat drives off. As if the chuffing car had to say goodnight too. |
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| Out at sea the HMS Twinkle Star was heading for the River Tees with a sense of purpose, or maybe just heading for the Wind Turbines with a broken anchor? Beach Buoy reached for his mobile phone to take a picture.RAIN 120 MINUTES Stated the device. A generalisation of the spits and spot scenario. |
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| Beach Buoy had found a few pieces of glass and pot. He left them for the sea. He was five minutes away from the van when the spits and spots combined to form the predicted rain. |
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| They sat in the van. The rain fell. Beach Buoy dried Stubborn Dog with the dog's grey towel. Then he dried his head with a fluffy blue and white towel. The dog laid in its bed, two coats still on and covered by a grey towel. Only its head was on show. He looked like a child taking part in a Christmas Nativity play. He fell asleep with his tongue out as if in response to being told that there was no room at the inn tonight. Beach Buoy watched as rain drops fell down the length of the van windows, quicker than zips on a one night stand. A wet Short short man appeared. He went to a puddle in the car park and stamped in it to help wash the sand off his wet boots. Beach Buoy made a move. It was time to go. BEACH BUOY. |
