It had been a sunny day.
It had been a long lockdown.
It was school holidays.
All three meant that Beach Buoy gave a 4 pm beach a miss.
It was going to be packed, it was.
They turned up at 6-07 pm, in the hope the crowds had ebbed away a little; they hadn't.
Beach Buoy knows the beach is for all, thats fine and how it should be but.....
The rule of six was the rule of sixty as a band of youngsters left the dunes to head along the Promenade singing
"Here we go, here we go, here we go...."
off they went.
It must have been so hard for them too, not seeing friends, going to cinema, everything really.
Beach Buoy feels sorry for the year that they have lost; a big percentage of still short lives.
To be continued.....
There were over a hundred vehicles in the car park.
Parking charges start again on April the first, so maybe that will put some off soon?
It was a little daunting at first, the amount of people.
The almost unavoidable closeness of the crowd.
The noise that so many people make, seemed able to drown the sea.
The sound of the breaking waves lost in a crescendo of people letting their hair down after it had spent so long in the tightest of buns.
The height of the tide didn't help.
People walked the water's edge like some not so tight tightrope.
Beach Buoy delayed the beach visit a while.
He chose to rest against the Promenade wall, with his matey sat on top.
Even the little dog seemed taken aback by the busyness of the seaside scene.
Beach Buoy made a few notes in his beach book.
A fly walked the page, as if proofreading the scribbled lines.
'Time for the Sand Martins.' thought Beach Buoy.
Eventually there was slight lull in beach access ramp activity, so they headed to the beach.
It was still March, though only just, but the tents were out, swimming costumes worn, folding chairs unfolded.
A couple with a young child and dog on a lead searched for a vacant spot to eat their Mcpicnic.
There was a lovely breeze from the west.
The sun was out, there was an odd light.
The sky to the west was lemon; not blue.
It wasn't a great light for photographs, may be one better for the soul than pictures?
Beach Buoy spotted a Ladybird walking around a beach rock like some miniature mountaineer.
First Ladybird of the year.
There would be more firsts to follow.
Stubborn Dog sniffed at some driftwood as another dog came to sniff Stubborn Dog.
They began to headed south, keeping their distance.
Up ahead it looked like a tangle of dog's and people.
Around forty people were to the south.
Youngsters lined the dune edge like a broken fence, a creaking groaning fence.
Beach Buoy thought to himself...
"If the stack is intact, I will show my bum in Binns' window."
Time would tell......
Beach Buoy marooned himself for a while, looking out to an empty sea.
A sea that looked like blue foil Christmas wrapping paper, that someone had tried to reuse in an emergency; a forgotten late present.
It's tell-tale already been used creases showed as ripples on the surface.
Scrooge.
A paddle-boarder headed out to sea, to escape the crowds.
A Jet-ski zipped by, another first of the year, too close to water's edge.
Let's hope there are no swimmers out there.
Of course he cannot seas the sign on the promenade saying
NO PERSONAL WATERCRAFT,
with the symbol alongside of a Jet-ski.
Up at the dune edge, a rule of six family, of three differing generations watched as Grandfather showed by the use of mime just how he jumped off the high dunes as a child, back in the day.
A small fly seemed to hover right in front of Beach Buoy's nose as he walked, as if asking a question.
"Are the Sand Martin's back yet?"
No answer was given.
No question was heard.
Gulls hung in the breeze from the west.
Down at the south end of the bay, the beach was sheltered by the dune height and the slope of the beach.
Marram grass danced on top of the dunes in the warm breeze.
Beach Buoy went up to stack the stack.
There had been a bit of disturbance, around a dozen stones had been strewn around.
Beach Buoy replaced them and breathed a sigh of relief.
No Bum
No Binns' window.
They stayed at the stack a while.
All but two had gone from the south end.
Two young ladies embraced at the grey rocks before heading towards the Pier.
Beach Buoy studied the sea as Stubborn Dog sniffed the sea air.
As they set off to leave a distant motorcycle growled along Tees Road.
A skylark fired up its engine, before taking off, gaining height and began singing the bay a lullaby.
Up to the north, the tell-tale drift of smoke showed the the dunes had been set alight.
Another first of the year, sadly it won't be the last.
A fire engine sped along the sea front.
Groups of youngsters watched as the fire was tackled.
The firemen left, sirens sounding, off to another shout, let's hope this detour hadn't impacted on the next, possibly life saving callout?
Two Police cars had parked up
as many more youngsters drained form the dunes.
Sadly it just takes one with a match and a bad attitude to taint and paint them all with the same brush.
Time to go.
BEACH BUOY.
