Beach Buoy and Another Dog set off for the beach.
It was 3-50 p.m.
As Beach Buoy locked the front door, he could see that the Bay's Wind Turbines were facing North.
In the shelter of the streets, the air felt still but cold.
The sky was a mixture of "Frosty tonight " sky blue and white fluffy animal-shaped clouds.
A white fluffy dog seemed to chase a white fluffy and slightly surprised cat.
They passed the Golf Club.
It's flag was no longer at two-thirds mast.
Mourning and morning were over.
They reached the Promenade at 4-02 p.m.
(8-39 BST. BUS STATION TIME.)
Clear of the shelter of the houses a chilly breeze blew.
The Sun had been coming and going all day.
Beach Buoy and Another Dog headed south on the water's edge.
Up ahead two ladies with a brown and white waggy-tailed Spaniel.
Up ahead of them, a couple with a brown and white waggy-tailed Spaniel.
Once again it was a stormy sea on a fairly calm day.
The waves broke ten steps out into the bay.
The horizon was a jagged line.
About one-third of the way to Stubborn Dog Stack, two hoods went up.
Sea foam trembled like shocked clouds that had fallen to earth
A jogger tiptoed through the sea foam clouds like he was running on air.
The Muzzled dog was up in the dunes.
A man with a Large Husky left the dunes, heading south on the beach.
The two ladies with a brown and white waggy-tailed Spaniel turned 180 degrees, heading north.
A waft of perfume followed them back to the village.
Beach Buoy stood looking at the beach.
The tide was quite high.
The sea was rushing to and reaching the dunes every now and then.
Heading along the beach to the sandy slope could means wet boots and paws should they be caught out by a random rush of the sea.
Beach Buoy checked the tide times.
It was 40 minutes since the tide had peaked.
They gambled, heading for the sandy slope, arriving untouched by the sea.
There had been a man to the south, heading north.
At a distance Beach Buoy thought it may have been a fisherman as he seemed to be carrying something.
4-40 p.m.
"Afternoon Mate."
Beach Buoy added a couple of stones to the stack.
He patted
THE
stone.
He drank coffee.
He noticed the supposed fisherman pass below the dune edge.
A short while later the sea ran in .
"Bet his feet are wet? " thought Beach Buoy.
"See you mate. "
They headed back down to the beach.
Beach Buoy followed the wet foot man's track.
He could see where he had been caught out by the tide.
The footsteps carried on.
Another Dog led the way.
Up ahead on the dune edge sat a figure.
A figure with wet feet.
Beach Buoy raised an arm as he passed, unsure if the gentleman wanted to talk.
"I've seen it rougher than this."
He did want to talk.
They discussed the sea and passing Oyster Catchers.
"A Parcel."
Beside the man, upon the dune edge was a piece of driftwood, the size of a medium-sized Dog.
"I'm an artist, usually paint but had my eye on this piece of driftwood a while."
"It's an eagles head, with something in its mouth.
The man picked it up to enlighten Beach Buoy.
"I'm carrying a bit then having a rest." adding "I'm getting on a bit."
Beach Buoy offered to carry it .
The driftwood was more of an awkward shape than it was heavy.
They reached the access ramp.
A young lady enquired about when the car park would close and about the large lump of driftwood.
The artist introduced Beach Buoy as his assistant.
The artist took hold of the driftwood to show the lady that it was indeed an eagle's head.
Beach Buoy made use of free hands and photographed the clouds from the access ramp.
The lady headed to the beach.
Beach Buoy took hold of the driftwood as they headed to the artist's 23 year old car.
They chatted a while.
All was fine and dandy.
They shook hands and exchanged first names.
Beach Buoy aka The Assistant headed off.
Shortly afterwards,there was a toot of a horn, as a 23 year old car passed by.
Beach Buoy raised an arm once more.
The light was marvelous.
A brief dusting of snow came soon afterwards.
BEACH BUOY.
