Beach Buoy and Another Dog reached the beach car park at 6-20 p.m.
A lady headed up the beach access ramp with her Large Alsatian dog.
It was a pale grey evening.
There was a chilly breeze blowing off the sea.
The tide was more out than it was in.
A couple marched south.
Their hand-in-hand arms swung as one.
There hadn't been much shingle around for a while.
Sand had just been moving from
A to B.
Recent rough seas had moved it from B to Sea, exposing some good stretches of searchable shingle.
Beach Buoy and Another Dog headed towards Stubborn Dog Stack.
Up ahead a young man, part walker-part jogger was stood kicking at the crumbling dune edge.
6-51 p.m.
"Evening Mate."
Beach Buoy added some stones.
He patted
THE
stone.
He drank coffee from his thermal mug.
He watched as Gulls travelled the dune edge.
Another Gull drifted by.
It was time to head back.
"See you mate."
They returned to the beach.
They cut down through the dune edge, down the Sandy Slope.
As they walked their slow walk back, Beach Buoy spotted a Kestrel.
He stood and watched.
Like when a helicopter passed overhead.
You have to stop and look.
Kestrel.
A privilege to observe.
A lady in green, who had earlier strode southwards as though off to catch an imminent bus, strode north.
Beach Buoy told himself that she had caught the bus thanks to her haste but had forgotten her purse.
Hopeful surfers made the best of three or four breaking waves.
They headed back to the car park.
As they headed to the van, a large Winnebago unfolded, increasing its interior dimensions and therefore it's outer ones too.
BEACH BUOY.
