Beach Buoy had gone to bed at 1-10 am
He woke at 5-29 am which is late for him.
He asked himself if it still counted as a lie-in?
He boiled the kettle to preheat two thermal cups for non-faff van coffee.
He could hear the wind blowing.
He made the two coffees and tighten the lids.
He went to the window and could see that snow had fallen overnight.
There was a heavy frost.
Beach Buoy spared a thought or two for the Sand Martins that had only just arrived yesterday.
Beach Buoy is more at one with nature than he has ever been.
The downside is worrying about the beach visitors; the Skylarks, The Sand Martins and the Little Terns, when they do show up.
He microwaved a bowl of Porridge.
"It'll taste better in the van."
He loaded the van.
Spare Coat.
Stubborn Dog.
Two Coffees.
Bowl of Porridge.
SPOON!
Beach Book.
Beach Buoy.
They reached the car park at 6-12 am.
The strong Icy wind was from the north.
Beach Buoy reversed into the parking spot so that the side door was protected form the blast.
Breakfast time.
Beach Buoy had Porridge and Coffee as he watched the sea with coloured LED lights for company.
They headed out to the frozen beach.
The dry sand cracked like thin ice underfoot, whilst any soft sand was heading south for this new winter that turned up today, carried by Frozen Air Airlines aka a freezing northerly wind.
They headed south, crunching on small shingle as they walked, with the sea on one side and the shifting sands on the other.
It was so cold.
Gulls wanting to head north had a struggle.
The sea was wild, the horizon was a jagged line of angry sea.
The sun backlit the scene dramatically.
As it did yesterday, a half moon viewed the scene from above the dunes; today even the moon looked frosted.
Foaming fingers of sea reached out to touch the beach and anyone walking its edge.
A battle was taking place out near the river mouth.
Wind and stormy sea.
Light and dark.
They headed up to the dunes.
A dozen or more Oyster Catchers pecked at the dune edge.
Beach Buoy collected some ice cold stones to stack the stack.
They stuck with the dunes to head south with the intention on checking on the Sand Martins.
As they walked, a lone Sand Martin flew north, keeping close to the dunes.
Beach Buoy didn't see anymore.
The sandbank that would be home to the Sand Martins was taking the full force of the wind.
The corner down by the Pier was a dramatic sight.
No doubt it would be the same up the coast at Seaham.
There, they would be elbow deep, trying to catch that photo to sell to the Express or Mail.
With the headline.
BRITAIN BATTERED.
They headed back.
Sunlight watched them.
A Spaniel appeared, it ran towards them.
Beach Buoy was expecting trouble but at the last minute the dog
rolled onto its back and twisted like a snake.
Just wanting to be friends.
As they left the beach others took over the frozen baton.
They sat in the van.
Beach Buoy drank coffee, made notes and edited photographs.
Playing at being a writer.
Stubborn Dog was rolled up in a blanket and was fast a sleep.
Playing at being a Sausage Roll.
No finds to record today.
Only a bag of gold coins could have tempted Beach Buoy's hands out of the sanctuary of his pockets today.
BEACH BUOY.
