Beach Buoy, Borrowed Dog and Another Dog had parked up in Seaton Park.
They reached the beach at
8-28 a.m.
December.
It was windy, but not too windy.
It blew from the north.
It was cold, but not too cold.
They headed south.
A lady with a German Shepherd on a long lead, filled a black bag with strand-line seaweed as they walked northwards.
A tall man with a Corgi stood chatting with his hand behind his back to another dog walker as their two dogs played a friendly game of who's sniffing who.
Beach Buoy put two hoods up.
It was cosier, safer, his own little environment.
The best of places x 2.
Hood.
Beach.
A Parcel of fourteen Oyster Catchers stood as if looking out to sea thoughtfully.
They were just facing the wind.
That's what birds do.
Ruffled feathers and all that.
Beach Buoy gave the birds a wide berth so as not to disturb them.
They took flight anyway.
Their whistles seemed to echo off one another.
The tall man with a Corgi led the way.
A beach regular overtook.
A dogless man who walks quickly from one end of the beach to the other.
Walks as if slightly late for a meeting.
Once he reaches the end, he turns as if he had just received a text informing him of change of venue.
Beach Buoy collected five suitable stones for Stubborn Dog Stack.
He and the dogs climbed the big slope.
View north from the top of the big slope.
The recent strong winds had left swirling patterns and a large colourful Buoy in its wake.
"Morning Mate."
It was 9-06.
Beach Buoy added some stones.
He patted
THE
stone.
Another Dog at the stack.
Borrowed Dog.
Repairs to North Gare Pier.
Beach Buoy sat for a sit and think.
A lady in red walked below the stack with her German Shepherd.
She was heading south.
She walked a short distance but then she climbed the dune edge.
She began heading towards Stubborn Dog Stack.
Beach Buoy made a swift exit down the small slope onto the beach below.
Back to the beach.
Gulls seemed to be giving Crows free lessons of how to hang on the dune updraft.
Water's edge.
The lady in red came down the big slope and continued northwards.
Beach Buoy and the dogs wandered back.
A large shell faced the sea on the water's edge.
It was whole.
Two halves still joined together but open.
It looked like an expensive jewellery box, opened on Christmas Day.
Gift taken, worn with a smile.
Maybe it was a gift for a mermaid.
An amber ring perhaps.
The colour of seaweed.
Set in gold with a wave design.
Who knows?
Beach Buoy might have to design one.
A ring fit for a Mermaid.
A lady with had headed south with her yapping dog.
Headed back north.
The dog had yapped more than it had walked.
Walking three miles.
Yapping six.
BEACH BUOY.
