The shortest day.
Beach Buoy's beach book had died the death, failing just before the final hurdle to make it to the end of the year.
At least there was no 'New Book' dilemma
Where you buy a book and spend weeks decided what to use it for.
Beach Buoy was up at early o'clock.
Beach Buoy made coffee as Stubborn Dog slept nearby;
it was coffee to go.
They drove to the beach on a wet shiny road.
It had rained overnight.
They parked up and Beach Buoy took a sip of coffee, it tasted better in the van.
A lady and her dog crossed the dark car park.
Beach Buoy put the van on side lights just as the van's headlights would have placed them in a spotlight.
Beach Buoy knows how annoying that can be.
It was 7-46 am when Beach Buoy and Stubborn Dog launched themselves down the access ramp.
Gulls cursed in the half light down by the water's edge.
As Beach Buoy reached the sea, a Murder of Crows; six in total, carried out a low-level sortie.
The was no wind.
The air was cold.
The tide was more in than out.
Out in the bay, the hint of daylight glowed more like moonlight than sunlight.
Up at the dune edge, a couple were heading back to the car park.
A lady in Red and her small dog overtook Beach Buoy and Stubborn Dog.
Much of the beach resembled a Zebra Crossing.
Lines of alternating shingle and sand were evenly spaced along the beach.
They were neatly edged by a morning and mourning frame of sea coal.
They stacked the stack then headed back to the beach.
They continued on their southerly trek.
They passed a driftwood monster that was up on the grey rocks.
The calm sea laid in the bay like an ill-fitting carpet.
They walked part of the North Gare Pier.
With the borders being closed recently, it felt more like they were being locked in than out.
Beach Buoy and Stubborn Dog made their way back.
Never had this Island felt more like an Island to Beach Buoy.
They sat in the van a while.
Beach Buoy nodded off.
He had had less than four hours sleep.
BEACH BUOY.
