Monday.
Bank Holiday Monday.
Beach Buoy woke at 4-40 a.m.
By 5 a.m.
Thermal mugs were warning with boiled water.
One for the stack.
One for the van, post-beach.
Another Dog went and hid when she realised that it was beach not work today.
Beach Buoy and a reluctant Another Dog pulled into an empty beach car park
at 5-17 a m.
Sunrise was scheduled for 5-27.
They headed for the sea.
Little Terns chattering filled the air.
The sunrise went unseen.
Low cloud saw to that.
They headed south.
Twenty minutes on, the Sun still hadn't shown up.
Wonderful light and reflections made up for its absence.
Beach Buoy could almost hear the Sun yawn and stretching behind the cloud curtain.
The tide was more out than it was in.
The beach was still deserted.
Beach Buoy pulled up two hoods.
He stuffed his hands into his Jean's pockets.
He walked backwards for a good while as he watched the "progress" of his little beach mate.
They continued south.
By 5-50 a.m. others had appeared on the beach.
The Sun finally showed up thirty minutes late.
Yesterday it was almost a day late.
The 7 a.m. club were to the north.
Team Distant Wave joined the trek south in front of the 7 a.m. club.
Lola the Pug ran over.
Hugo the rescue dog did too.
Beach Buoy made a fuss of the two of them.
Team Distant Wave passed
"Morning!"
""Morning!"
Distant waves were added for good measure.
Sand Martins worked the dune edge to the sound of Skylarks.
It was Beach Buoy's favourite time of year.
Beach Buoy and Another Dog headed for the dune edge.
Sunshine shadows showed them the way
Beach Buoy rested against the crumbling sandy bank.
The Sun was warm.
The man without a rucksack but with a Rottweiler headed north on the water's edge.
A man with a Spaniel headed south.
Beach Buoy watched the beach.
The early morning beach folk.
Birds of a feather.
The mad world actually felt calm for a while.
Stones in hand he headed to Stubborn Dog Stack.
Beach Buoy added the stones.
He patted
THE
stone.
"Morning Mate."
He sat on a large stack stone drinking cups coffee.
The man with a Spaniel sat and thought on the grey rocks below.
It was 6-15 a.m.
To the south, the 7 a.m. club and Team Distant Wave chatted as cloud claimed the sun.
Meanwhile, down on the beach, Hugo zoomed here and there.
His was a lovely big dog.
Team Distant Wave and the 7 a m. Club headed north.
Beach Buoy and Another Dog made a move
"See you mate."
They returned to the beach.
They began to head south.
Mari, the big friendly poodle had been coming the dunes.
She clambered across the grey rocks towards them.
A man marched south.
The same man then marched north.
Beach Buoy stood at the water's edge, facing the sea.
Two hoods were up.
Eyes were closed.
The Sun shone on his fat face.
Beach Buoy wished that he could press an inner record button.
It was so calm.
The sea was more inviting with eyes shut.
It was so calm.
For once Beach Buoy was calm, helped along by the morning beach.
Skylarks sang sweetly.
The Sun's warmth was just enough.
Tears filled his eyes.
He looked up to the sky.
"I'm good to go mate.
I'm good to go now ."
Now, he is no particular rush to go.
Going then would be the easy/ chicken's way out.
Side step illness, side step a declining old age.
In his mind his Dad had rowed ashore in the Lorna Doone.
It was there, waiting.
He opened his eyes.
Gone.
He turned to head North.
"Maybe he doesn't like being called mate?"
though Beach Buoy.
In the distance, the Beachcombing Border Collie Couple searched the strand-line.
Walking and stooping.
Stooping and walking.
A large white Gull flew directly overhead.
In you were in the right frame of mind it could look like an angel.
It look like angel.
It was a slow and calm walk back.
Breaking waves unravelled like loose strands from a knitted sea.
Little Terns travelled up and down the water's edge.
A black headed Gull or Tern flew overhead as if it were looking down, passing sentence.
Beach Buoy and Another Dog headed to the van.
He had been out a couple of hours.
It felt like a minute.
It felt like forever.
BEACH BUOY.
