Beach Buoy and Stubborn Dog had left the house around 4-30 pm.
The gutters at the side of the road were full of crisp brown leaves; it was that time of year.
Two seagulls did the rain dance as they usually do on the triangular traffic island situated between the golf and cricket clubs.
The council had been working the beach, removing the sand build up against the promenade wall.
The sand almost looked like sea.
The tide was well out.
There was a breeze off the sea.
Beach Buoy glanced back to the north.
It almost looked like a normal day but there are no normal days at the moment and all of the talk of the new normal is garbage.
They did a fruitless search of the shingle deposits.
They stacked the stack and admired the view.
They had a slow walk back.
That's what Tiggers do best.
BEACH BUOY.
