As they reached the grey rocks the acrid smell of riverside industries wafted across the beach; it is not always a bed of roses. |
They paused to admire the shafts of sunlight that resembled spotlights for a show put on by The Gares; both North and South. |
They had a wander about. The tide was out, The Blue Lagoon was drained for a few hours. |
They headed to the riverside. There was lots of driftwood. |
A knot looked like a crocodile's eye, the bark resembled it's skin. |
They reached the ramp. Some branches of a dead tree had be planted there a couple of nights ago by two young children. They were leaving that night as Beach buoy was. He heard them discuss The Holy Bucket. One of the kids had said that the other had doubted the powers of The Holy Bucket. Turns out that it was a Holey bucket; a bucket with a hole. Hole in the Bucket. They headed to the van as a Cyclist cycled the promenade with a radio on his handlebars. They binned the beach clean and headed off. BEACH BUOY. |