It was Thursday.
It was 11-51 a.m.
It was bright.
It was very windy.
Too windy to take Another Dog onto the beach.
It was like a sand storm.
Beach Buoy rested on the Promenade wall.
A man stopped for a chat.
He was a Little Tern Warden when they are here.
They chatted.
He thought that the beach resembled the surface of the moon.
They went their separate ways.
They left The Promenade.
Coffee in the van.
BEACH BUOY.
