Beach Buoy had been up since 2-35 a.m.
He wasn't allowed to drive for 24 hours after yesterday's events.
He and Another Dog set off on foot
at 6-12a.m.
Coat, hat and snood were on.
Another Dog wore a coat too.
Cracks of daylight had begun to show between the clouds.
It just seemed to highlight the fact that the clouds were dark, rainclouds in fact.
Their street light shadows passed by them each time they walked under one of the lights.
It was around the time that Beach Buoy would be leaving for work.
The two ladies and their two dogs that he passes every weekday morning, walked by.
A jogger jogged towards the golf club.
He had an unusual running style, his legs pounding, his upper half looked like it was sat a conference room table, deep in discussion.
Saying that, Beach Buoy has an unusual running style too.
He sits in a white metal box, pressed pedals with his feet and turns a wheel with his hands.
Beyond the Golf Club, the red lights that topped the Bay's Wind Turbines seemed to flashing on and off
It was just unseen blades passing Infront of them.
They carried on.
A large rabbit cloud awaited their arrival.
Busy council vehicles trundled into the village from the nearby depot.
Orange flashing lights showed their progress.
Beach Buoy and Another Dog passed the golf club.
A naked flagpole seemed to stand, shivering.
A small tractor cut golf club grass, guided by headlights.
Beach Buoy rested on the Promenade wall.
Three cars were in the car park.
One sat with headlights on.
The owner of the illuminated car had two dogs; Milo and Lola.
Milo had been good and had returned to the car.
Lola was having none of it.
Clearly not ready to leave the seaside.
They headed south with a
"Rain on the way." wind
blowing on their backs.
It looked to be falling out in the bay already?
Up ahead, two figures stood chatting.
The wind was fresh.
The additional clothing had been a good call.
The horizon's rainfall seemed to "walking"
alongside them as they continued south, searching shingle as they progressed.
Beach Buoy found a wooden object.
The romance in his cold cold heart, thought that it could be a pulley wheel from an olden day sailing ship's rigging?
Others have since said that it was most probably a Scarborough or Yorkshire fishing reel.
The rain poured out at sea.
Up ahead the two chatters had been joined by two from the south.
Discussions took place.
The rainfall continued to travel south.
The group of chatters headed in opposite directions.
Two of them were the 7 a m. club.
"Morning Paul!" drifted across the beach.
"Morning! " rebounded back.
Distant waves were exchanged as a back up.
Mari, the large friendly poodle trotted over for the obligatory neck scratch.
They went their separate ways.
The man with a white retriever that looks like a polar bear overtook Beach Buoy.
They had a brief chat about the likelihood of rain.
The man and his Polar Bear carried on.
Beach Buoy likes to dawdle along the beach.
It was 7-02 a.m.
" Morning Mate."
Beach Buoy added some recently collected beach stones
He patted
THE
stone.
Beach Buoy had a sip of very welcome hot coffee.
"See you mate."
Beach Buoy had decided to carry on to North Gare Pier.
They slid down a sandy slope, returning to the beach.
A hidden Sun's light glowed to the south of the horizon.
Its fire would so be extinguished by the approaching rain clouds.
Beach Buoy spotted something up on the grey rocks that required to be beach cleaned.
He had intended to return to the beach but Another Dog had other ideas.
They continued their walk up in the dunes.
Out of nowhere Hugo the Dog appeared beside them.
One neck scratch coming up.
Beach Buoy obliged asking the big dog if it had been having a good time.
Beach Buoy glanced down to the water's edge.
The distant wave lady waved.
Beach Buoy returned the greeting.
Hugo ran towards his owner.
Moments later he was back again.
Scratch, scratch, scratch.
Off once more.
Beach Buoy and Another Dog made their way to the dip in the dunes.
Hugo was back again!
Another neck scratch.
"You need to go and catch your mam up."
He pointed in the direction of the distant wave lady.
She was heading back.
Finally the friendly dog got the message.
The light seemed to be a thin filling sandwiched between sky and sea.
Beach Buoy checked back to the north on Hugo's progress.
All was good he was almost reunited.
The wind was stronger on the more exposed dune heights.
The rain seemed to have reached the other side of the river.
Not the first black cloud to be hanging over the doomed steelworks.
Gulls hung in the updraught of the Pier.
The wind blew on the gates on the pier.
It looked and sounded like the ghosts of Fishermen denied access were trying to gain access .... Of course they could just walk round.
Beach Buoy and Another Dog headed back.
The beach looked empty for their journey back.
Gliding Gulls said "Come back soon."
They would.
They made their way through the dunes.
The rain started.
They took shelter at the dip in the dunes.
Beach Buoy sipped a few more mouthfuls of coffee.
Back on the beach, two hoods went up.
Two Oyster Catchers argued.
Any sand that hadn't been dampened by the rainfall snaked its way south.
Raindrops hit Beach Buoy's hoods, making his coat sound like a one man tent.
The rain eased a fair bit.
Hoods came down.
Another Dog's ears flapped in the wind.
The rainfall increased
Sniper fire became full blown machine gun attack.
Two hoods went up once more.
The beachcombing Border Collie couple's dog ran by.
Just one companion today.
They must have drawn straws?
A man with a waggy Spaniel headed south on the strand-line.
A man with two waggy Spaniels chose the water's edge as their route.
The strand-line man began to run back to the north.
He didn't run far.
Possibly as out of shape as a circular square?
A Gull walked side on to the string wind
It looked like a shoplifter about to leave the store.
There was no van to take shelter in.
They had walked to the beach.
The headed for the bus station shelters.
Typically as they were almost at the station's shelter, the rain eased.
Beach Buoy sat in the north shelter.
A man sat nearby, walking frame in front of him, cigarette in hand.
His life map seemed to be the floor that he was staring at so intently.
Looking for another route?
Beach Buoy headed back.
As he walked he realised that his old orange coat was no longer waterproof.
He really was soaked to the skin.
The fashionable faded areas of his new jeans were as dark as the rest of the denim material.
They will dry and fade once more.
In the end we all will fade.
BEACH BUOY.
