Beach Buoy and Another Dog reached the beach at 6-41p.m.
It was very bright.
The tide was well in.
A wild wind blew from the north.
A man with a bald head and a plastic bag walked towards the sea.
He collected stones as he walked .
Eventually the bag stopped flapping in the wind due to the weight of beach stones inside.
The clouds were gorgeous, the wind invigorating.
Dry sand ran to the dunes.
It looked like that the tide had not long turned.
It was still rushing up as far as the Little Tern fencing.
The horizon looked as if had been drawn by an artist on a pogo stick.
The sea was rough, the bay full of white horses.
They headed south.
Cartwheeling sea foam ghosts overtook them as they walked.
As they approached the area of the sandy slope it was obvious that the sea was reluctant to let go of the sands.
They cut through the dunes.
Beach Buoy carried Another Dog through the sea buckthorn.
The path seemed slightly more defined than last time he needed it.
"Evening Mate."
It was 7-06 p.m.
Beach Buoy added some stones.
He patted
THE
stone.
He sipped hot coffee as he watched waves break over three of the Bay's Piers.
Waves broke beyond the sea serpent marker.
At times, the marker was completely hidden by the height of the breaking waves.
"See you mate."
A rush of sea thudded against the dune edge.
They returned to the beach via the dunes, once it was safe to do so.
People were noticeable by their absence.
A driftwood creature ran for the sea.
Beach Buoy and Another Dog strolled back into an odd light.
It was pale but colourful.
Light but dark.
It was like being in a watercolour painting.
A small cream blob and a much much larger blob of orange.
Dots in the distance.
A memory of someone you once knew.
They headed to the van.
Shelter from the bracing wind.
Seaton Sunset in the van.
Coffee in hand.
BEACH BUOY.
