There was a football match taking place.
Beach Buoy chose not to watch, he had seen it all before.
He would rather hear a kettle's whistle than a referee's.
He can't stand the hype.
Certain so-called fans, who spoilt it.
Retired millionaire footballers having a second bite of the cherry as pundits.
The Sea Front was gloriously quiet.....
... the beach too.
Beach Buoy would have walked to the Stubborn Dog Stack but he wasn't up to it tonight.
Beach Buoy headed back to the van.
He boiled the kettle.
Not long afterwards it was clear the game had kicked off, thanks to a drunk man walking along the pavement near to the Village Green.
He had his mobile phone to his ear.
He shouted...
"F**king Get in!
C'mon f**king England !
F**king Get in !
F**king C'mon !
England !
F**king C'mon.
Turned out Football wasn't coming home after all, but heading to Rome.
Then the abuse of the Players began.
BEACH BUOY.
