It was one of those...
Shall we?
The Sea tax stops at 6 p.m.
It becomes dark at 7.
By the end of the month the clock will have gone back...
So Beach Buoy and Another Dog headed to the beach.
The arrived at 6-14.
Beach Buoy faffed.
Two metal detectorists returned to their car and un-faffed.
Beach Buoy thought about telling them about a spot on another beach where they would find coins.
"Nah."
he thought.
They headed south.
Light was already fading.
A man and his dog walked the strand-line.
South, then north, back to the car park.
The tide was way out.
There was a mild breeze from the west.
STAN
had written his name in the sand.
They continued south at a quicker than usual pace.
Dusk at The Sandy Slope.
Beach Buoy gathered three stones.
Beach Buoy added the stones.
He patted
THE
stone.
"Evening Mate."
It was 6-42.
He didn't fetch the nearby wobbly driftwood plank to sit on.
He stood drinking coffee watching the sunset's afterglow.
"See you mate. Miss you."
They returned to the beach via The Sandy Slope.
They headed back to the car park.
Beach Buoy had lit Another Dog's flashing light.
As they reached the end of dunes, the sound of the Village Church Bells drifted across the beach.
7 p.m.
Back to the van.
Illuminated Beach Hut Mode.
Time to change out of beach boots.
Torches hang down.
Fairy lights glow.
Hold back those dreadful dreadful dark early nights.
BEACH BUOY.
