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| It was Sunday.... Beach Buoy woke at 5-24 am, a little confused. He had worked Saturday, so once he woke he wasn't fully sure what day it was. It was Sunday... It had rained overnight and was still raining when they left for the beach just before 6 am. The rain didn't bother the van; there is wax upon wax. The car park was empty apart from take away food wrappers, that scum couldn't be bothered to take away. |
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| Just north of the access ramp is The Little Tern nesting site. The wet and windy weather must be a problem for them. |
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| The tide was well in. They headed south with a rain loaded tailwind. Beach Buoy pulled two hoods up. Theirs were the first foot/paw prints of the day. The grey sea had donned white gloves to hi-five the North Gare Pier. |
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| They went to the stack, paused and then headed back. They followed their own tracks. As they headed back; it felt like walking through a car wash. They climbed into the van. Beach Buoy dried Stubborn Dog with the dog's own fluffy towel. The dog laid down beside the side door in the step down area. He looked quite snug. Beach Buoy put a pan of milk on to heat. Coffee made with milk rather than water was always a bit of a luxury when he was a youngster. The rain and wind seemed to double in strength. Coffee made, Beach Buoy watched as some other beach regulars arrived at the beach. |
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| He watched as a distant 7 am club went south. He was still sat there when a wetter 7 am club came back north. Some people just stuck to the promenade; no beach for them. A cyclist powered by the wind, free-wheeled to the south. A lady with an umbrella headed south too, her umbrella was acting like a sail. When she turned to head back it became a parachute. Beach Buoy wondered how long it would be before the umbrella would do that turning inside out thing. |
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| Later that day..... sat on the sea front watching waves roll in. Beach Buoy. |
