It was mild.
Beach Buoy and Another Dog headed to the south.
The tide was well out.
Stripey wind breaks were dotted around.
A game of beach volley ball was in progress.
People swam.
Others say in various locations.
People drifted northwards.
The south was theirs.
A Lone Sand Martin swooped as the reached the top of the big slope.
They reached the stack.
"Evening Mate."
It was 7-57.
He added some stones.
He patted
THE
stone.
He sat on the driftwood wedge about a metre long.
No drink.
Just sit.
The beach below.
"See you mate."
Back along the easy route.
A slow walk back.
A Parcel of Oyster Catchers whistles as the rise up ito the air, before heading towards the river.
BEACH BUOY.
