It was 3-15 am
Beach Buoy was wide awake.
It was one of those times you just know that sleep won't return.
He laid for over an hour trying before giving up.
He made a warm milky drink, more in search of biscuits than sleep.
He drank the warm drink, looked at the clock; 4-58.
'Soon be 5 something' thought Beach Buoy.
5 something doesn't sound so bad when you rise at 5-20 every week day for work.
Stubborn Dog slept nearby, curled up in a ball.
The little dog follows him everywhere and would follow like a shadow in an unlit room.
7 am
Beach Buoy made a move.
Shortly afterwards he heard the first cry of the Gulls overhead .
Kettle on, thermal cup filled.
By 7-30 Beach Buoy and Stubborn Dog were in the beach car park.
The strong wind was off the sea so Beach Buoy reversed into a parking spot.
The rear of the van was now facing the sea.
Beach Buoy took a mouthful of hot coffee, then they set off.
The wind was icy.
Stubborn Dog had to be carried to the ramp.
The strap on Beach Buoy's beach bag snapped.
Now he was carrying both.
He had just placed them on the wall that runs down the access ramp when a young lady asked if Beach Buoy had any spare poo bags.
She hadn't brought any and her dog was now in need of one.
Beach Buoy handed her a roll.
'Keep them.'
' I have others.' said Beach Buoy.
Beach Buoy made repairs to his beach bag and they set off.
Poo bag lady was down at water's edge.
Beach Buoy opted for the strand line.
It was bitterly cold.
Stubborn Dog had two coats on.
Beach Buoy had two hoods up and each hand was double-gloved.
Dark clouds hung over the village.
Another large driftwood piece appears.
Six murderous crows flew from behind the dunes and drifted across the beach.
The grey sea was in contrast to the darker clouds.
Recently created rock pools, ran back to the sea.
Beach Buoy collected six sandy-coloured stones to add to the stack.
He realised yesterday that there were too many grey ones in the stack.
He wants the stack to be a little more colourful.
It was bitterly cold.
They didn't linger too long and headed down to the beach, then onto North Gare Pier.
The tide was working its way out but the sea was still giving the Pier a hard time.
A ship left the safety that the river offered, out into a dangerous-looking sea.
Beach Buoy is reliably informed that the vessel was bound for Egypt.
They began a slow walk back.
The northern end of the beach saw the arrival of a few more visitors.
A Gull travelled the water's edge, heading south.
There was no bright Sunrise today.
They headed back to the van.
Beach Buoy rotated the front passenger seat to face the sea.
He drank coffee and they defrosted.
THINKING THINGS THROUGH.
A Song written
by
Beach Buoy.
Christmas Eve 1995.
The Cold wind whistled
I couldn't name the tune,
The sand was blowing
from the highest dune,
My footsteps washed
by the incoming tide,
Covered my tracks
like I had something to hide.
But I'm just thinking things through.
The road was empty
at a quarter past three,
Like the world's asleep
that's everyone but me,
The radio show
must be pre-recorded,
But its not what
the Doctor ordered.
But I'm just thinking things through.
This railroad takes me
somewhere I've never been,
I go past places
that I had never seen,
It wont be long
I will return,
So little time
so much to learn.
But I'm just thinking things through.
BEACH BUOY.
