Beach Buoy had been to work.
He went to collect Stubborn Dog.
They arrived at the beach at 3-33 pm.
It was milder than it had been.
There was a slight breeze from the West.
They headed for the sands.
The light looked odd.
The colours seemed watered-down, almost pale in appearance.
The sea looked odd too.
It wasn't only the pale palette.
Although the sea looked calm the waves were breaking in long lengths along the beach.
Perfect miniature surf waves.
Waves can be intermittent in style here.
Much of the time the waves will be hitting the beach but then also been altered by waves rolling back in after hitting the North Gare pier like snooker ball off a table edge.
They would collide.
So long lengths of breaking waves did seem as odd the light today.
The village looked pretty to the North as they continued South after reaching the water's edge.
There was shingle and shingle means sea glass and sea pottery.
Two joggers clattered by on the shingle.
Beach Buoy collected some finds as he walked for old times sake.
They stacked the stack with five stones.
Beach Buoy laid the finds nearby to photograph them.
He left them for others.
They headed back.
The strange light faded.
Day became early evening.
They were back at the van at 4-34pm
The walk had been
One Hour.
One Minute.
One Tired Beach Buoy.
One Stubborn Dog.
Beach Buoy sat in the van watching The Hungry Seagull's last customers of the day being served.
The light faded more.
The blues of the distant sky and sea began to merge.
It would soon be night.
BEACH BUOY.
