It had rained then froze.
Another Dog wasn't budging from bed.
The van was frozen.
The door locks solid.
The windscreen not just frost, it was iced.
It was a bit early for some on a weekend for Beach Buoy to be making a noise as he tried to sort out the issues.
He decided to walk to the beach alone.
Wherever possible, he would on frozen grass.
It felt safer.
One wrong move on the pavement or road and he would be flat on his back.
A jogger jogged by!
Beach Buoy had no idea how he was managing to stay upright?
He was having a phone conversation too.
"Well she's not answering any of my calls."
Beach Buoy eventually reached the beach at 8-32 a.m.
Non-tidal sand was frozen as hard as stone.
The tide looked to be well out.
A lady and her two dogs walked northwards along the water's edge.
The sun was just clearing low cloud.
There was a slight but chilly breeze from the south west.
The wreck was on show.
The wreck.
Looking east,out to sea.
Looking south.
Looking like a shanty town.
Team one black ear and one half of Team Muzzled Dog were talking, heading north along the strand-line, distant waves were exchanged across the flat sands.
He continued south.
No dog.
No beach bag, it was locked in the frozen van.
He did have his beach note book, stuffed into the left hand pocket of his orange coat.
He took it out from time to time to make scribbled notes.
Three joggers headed south.
The Sun seemed to be leaking.
It ran to the sea like a Beach Buoy.
Beach Buoy left the soft, easy to walk tidal sand behind.
Up onto the frozen low level route to Stubborn Dog Stack.
It's slight slope felt steeper when frozen.
The raised sand around each frozen footprint was a possible ankle twister.
"Morning Mate."
It was 9-02.
Beach Buoy added five stones.
He patted
THE
stone.
The driftwood plank with plenty of rust was heavily frosted.
Beach Buoy would stand.
He watched the sea steam in the icy cold air.
The three joggers returned to the north.
A small ship left the river, out into the sea.
In a while...
"See you mate."
He returned to the beach below.
He headed north to clear the rocks
Then south to Sand Martin Corner.
Into the bright but cold sunlight.
Two ladies had appeared in the dunes near to the Tank Traps.
They walked and talked their way over the grey slippery rocks, then headed north back to the Village.
A flock of fourteen Gulls stood by the sea as if looking for guidance, not food.
Three Oyster Catchers trotted ahead of Beach Buoy like the tiny dinosaurs they are.
Every now and then, Beach Buoy would have to step over narrow, shallow streams.
Trapped Sea water was leaving rocks pools
Choosing to go down sloping sands back to it's source.
Beach Buoy searched the shingle if the way to North Gare Pier with no success.
He checked on the status of the machine gun post up on Sand Martin Corner.
Less than one hundred days and they should have arrived.
Beach Buoy turned back to the north.
A Lone Oyster Catchers and The Sea Serpent Marker.
Three more joggers had stopped at the grey rocks. They stood catching their breath , chatting as their chocolate-coloured Labrador waited for them.
It was keen to take the lead on the way back north.
Beach Buoy walked to the sea.
He talked to the sea.
He did.
The sea looked like a summer sea.
The tide was coming in.
The Seaton Carew Wreck was beginning to go to sea.
He walked calmly back to the north.
No rush.
No need.
Up on the distant dune edge, "that" piece of driftwood "burnt" brightly on the frozen dune sands.
Even from three or four hundred metres away, it looked lit.
The village church bells rang for 10 a.m.as Beach Buoy turned to The Esplanade.
The new toilets.
Eight doors with out of order signs on them.
Disgraceful.
The toilets at the Bus Station Clock Tower should be reopened immediately.
IF YOU ARE GOING TO CHARGE FOR PARKING ALL YEAR ROUND.
AT LEAST SPEND THE MONEY IN SEATON CAREW ON IT'S FACILITIES!
FACILITIES THAT WORK!
BEACH BUOY.
