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| 6-40 am. The tide was high. The Sun was out and warm. There was a nice breeze from the West. There were two other vehicles in the Car Park. The driver of one, sat, reading. Book? Newspaper? Mobile Phone? Beach Buoy and Stubborn Dog headed to the water's edge. The in-coming tide was about to fill yesterday's sand Castle's dry moat, then go on to claim the Castles themselves. Stubborn Dog cocked a back leg and beat the Sea to stake a claim on the sandy structures. Then..... 6-50am and the chuffing 7 am club were on the beach! The Earth wobbled a little and almost started turning the other way ! Little Terns rolled up their feathered sleeves to check the time on their wing watches. Holidays must have affected the club's number as it was just 2 plus 2. (People and Dogs.) The two must have decided to set off early, in a break with tradition. |
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| Beach Buoy and Stubborn Dog went up and had a sit and think up on the Dune edge. The Sea Serpent showed two humps out in the bay. The Sun went behind a long line of dark cloud. The normally White Wind Turbines turned to number 47 in the different shades of grey; shadows of their former selves. The Little Terns continued their Circus act of diving into shallow water from a good height. Beach Buoy had a ringside seat. The 6-50am club came and went and were almost back along the far side of the dunes when Beach Buoy went to stand up. Sleeping Stubborn Dog woke up. He wasn't ready to go. "Fair enough." thought Beach Buoy and sat back down. They were both getting old and the little dog was catching up. "Let him sleep a bit more." The Sea Sparkled. The sun had escaped the black cloud. Stubborn Dog snored as he slept on the sand with his tongue sticking out. Finally it was time to go. |
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| They went and had a look up in the dunes , after Stubborn Dog had shook himself from nose to tail. They headed back as the beach began to fill with joggers, walkers and dogs. Beach Buoy placed the beach clean into the bin on the promenade, then rested on the wall. Stubborn Dog sat up on the wall. Beach Buoy made notes in his book and in his head. He pondered at all the different reasons people come to the beach for. A blonde lady and a bald man headed for the water's edge. A man dressed for trench warfare scanned the beach with his metal detector, looking to cash in on someone's misfortune and slide the finds into his camouflaged bag. A lady litter-picked as her little dog walked nearby. Cyclists and joggers had chosen the promenade as their venue. One of the Cyclists gave out a loud noise as he approached. It sounded like he had been shot. It was a sneeze. He must have been shot with a pollen bullet? Another cyclist wore pink shorts and a bandage on his knee. Yet another rumbled along on his battery powered bike. Another Jogger came by, he was pounding the pavement so hard that Beach Buoy thought it must be causing joint pain. Maybe in time he too would become a cyclist in pink shorts and a bandage on his damaged knee? They went back to the van. They sat with the side-door of the van open, sheltering from the breeze. More joggers came. Three were in a equally spaced line dressed in .. Orange, Green, Blue. They looked like a mobile advertisement for the colourful beach huts, that are positioned along the promenade. BEACH BUOY. |
