Beach Buoy woke at 6-21.
It had been a late night again.
He made a coffee as Stubborn Dog slept.
Beach Buoy kick started the computer and caught up with some work on the blog.
He made a coffee to have in the van after the beach.
Beach Buoy and Stubborn Dog headed out to the van.
Big flakes of snow were falling.
Beach Buoy loaded the van before setting off for the beach.
A golfer walked in the darkness, heading for the golf club, pulling his clubs behind him.
Maybe he was hopeful of a hole in one, or maybe just a palm to grease.
They pulled into the dark, wet car park.
It was around 8-03 am.
Two ladies had parked their cars four spaces from one another and were running together, but apart, between cones that Beach Buoy presumed they had brought to mark their exercise zone.
Beach Buoy and Stubborn Dog headed for the beach.
The sand that was frozen solid was soft today.
The snow had brought warmer air.
There was the slightest of breezes from the north west.
They headed for the water's edge.
A lady walked ahead of them to the south, a regular.
She had the look of a woman who had lost her Dog
or possibly her husband?
Beach Buoy related to sad walks, hers looked like one.
An early morning emergency siren travelled along the sea front; heard but not seen.
Large random flakes of snow fell ahead of Beach Buoy, as he walked.
They fell like small burnt pieces of paper from a bonfire that had escaped the inferno, being lifted up and away by the heat of the fire.
A line of small seabirds stood along the water's edge, like school children waiting to be picked for opposing football teams.
None wanted to be in goal, they all preferred the wing.
Just beyond the small birds were two large gulls.
Beach Buoy altered direction so that he didn't disturb them, the Gulls watched Beach Buoy and Stubborn Dog suspiciously.
Beach Buoy gathered four beach stones for the stack, ones with no paw prints around them.
If the stones were prominent enough for Beach Buoy to spot, then a Dog made have "Paid them a visit "too?
Sea weed of a different type.
Upon reaching the stack, Beach Buoy noticed that someone had carefully topped the stack.
It pleased Beach Buoy.
The dune edge was dusted with snowflakes.
The grey sea rolled, on a windless morning.
They headed back down to the beach.
The sky glowed to the south as if there was a distant forest fire.
They had a mooch in the shingle that was laid around north Gare Pier Corner.
It was one of those days when the sea was angry but the air felt calm.
They had a slow walk back.
They sat in the van as flakes snow fell as if in slow motion.
