Beach Buoy locked the front door
at 7-59 a.m.
He and Another Dog were setting off on foot for the beach.
It was quite mild, no gloves required.
It had rained heavily overnight.
A breeze had to began to dry the edges of the pavement's square slabs.
Each ot the remaining damp areas was an unique work of art, ready framed.
They passed the Cricket Club.
It's pitch was home to around two hundred Gulls, all appropriately attired.
They crossed Tees Road.
The Golf club shop was illuminated, brightly coloured tops hung on rails.
The first of the year's golfers pulled into the the club's car park; Members only...
The weather vane golfer on top of the flag pole aimed south west.
The flagpole's rope slapped a regular beat in the breeze against the upright.
Like a lone Yacht mast in a marina.
They headed to the beach car park.
As they turned a corner a man and two dogs came in the opposite direction.
Each surprised one another.
They both said "Oh "
at the same time.
"Morning."
"Morning."
"Happy New Year Mate."
"You too." said Beach Buoy.
They began to cross the large open expanse of the car park.
The Littler Pick Lady seemed to appear from nowhere.
"Where's your van?"
Beach Buoy climbed up on a passing high horse.
He had a bit of a rant about parking charges.
The Litter Picking lady's dog watched on from a safe distance on the promenade.
He dismounted around the same time as The Beachcombing Border Collie Couple were leaving the access ramp.
The lady headed back to her beach cleaning dog.
Beach Buoy and Another Dog headed for the beach.
Feet and paws hit sand at 8-18.
The tide was as far out as The Seaton Carew Wreck.
A Beach Buoy decoy headed from the water's edge, he had Another Dog decoy for company too.
They headed to the water's edge.
They walked southwards
Up on the dune edge, two people headed north with four small dogs running to and from them as they progressed.
Up ahead four Oyster Catchers had been delivered.
Beach Buoy moved away from the sea to leave them in peace.
As he watched them it became apparent that a number of smaller Pebbles with Legs were there too.
The smaller birds only being visible once they were scampering around.
A Large Dalmatian Dog come running up from the South.
It barked as it came up.
Another Dog barked back.
It was harmless.
Mentally Beach Buoy filed it under
"DAFT AS A BRUSH."
For future reference,
as opposed to
"VICIOUS."
He hadn't seen the Dog before or the Dog's human companions who came walking by.
Two young ladies, dressed like Eskimos.
"Morning." said Beach Buoy.
"Morning." was returned in duet format in high pitched harmony.
Daylight was beginning to show to the south of the bay.
He was drawn back to the water's edge.
He knew that the wet sand would offer good reflection of the colourful glow.
A glow once seen, would set you up for the day, no matter how dull the day may become.
They crossed the width of the beach as they headed to Stubborn Dog Stack.
Beach Buoy glanced North.
The whole seafront was bathed in glorious light.
The houses along the front seemed to give out a loud combined sigh.
They loved the sunlight and the sunlight loved them as it highlighted the differing colours and architecture of the mixture of buildings.
Beach Buoy gathered four sandstone yellow stones from the beach.
The yellow stones would brighten up the stack.
The Morning Sun seemed to have the same idea?
Happy New Year Mate."
Beach Buoy added the stones.
He patted
THE
stone.
He watched the sun-kissed Marram Grass bend slightly in the breeze.
Sting's fields of gold came to mind.
There was no visible camp fire up at Camp Distant Wave to the South.
Maybe just coffee and chat?
Beach Buoy watched the sea for a while.
"See you mate."
They headed back to the beach.
They walked northwards.
A man in an Orange waistcoat carried a blue plastic bag and a litter picking claw.
He was litter picking the strand-line as he progressed to the south.
The claw squeaked each time that it was used.
It sounded like a Dog's toy.
Another Dog was confused.
She sat down, watching the man until their paths had crossed and he was off squeaking in the distance.
Not long afterwards, they could hear Hugo's unmistakable bark as Team Distant Wave and the litter picking man had made contact.
Their sunshine shadows were becoming shorter as the sun gained height.
A family with a Spaniel and an unusual accent headed south.
Beach Buoy moved back to the water's edge.
The sea was as crisp and fresh as a new start.
The white foam-edged waves rolled into the winter sun-kissed sands.
Beach completed, they turned towards Tees Road.
About two hundred metres ahead, the jogging weatherman had already crossed at his usual point.
There would be no forecast today.
BEACH BUOY.
