Sunday.
Another cold day.
Scrape ice from van.
Drive to Seaton Park.
The footpaths were still dangerous.
As Beach Buoy and Another Dog left the van, there on the opposite side of the road was Not Beach Buoy.
Black coat again.
Did he not get the memo?
So today was the day that Not Beach Buoy became Not not Beach Buoy.
Or does the double negative mean that he now indeed is Beach Buoy?
Regardless, they all headed to the beach.
A Seacoal pick-up truck was parked at the barrier on the access ramp.
Two were out of the truck.
They were trying to unlock the barrier.
The padlock may have been frozen?
"Morning."
"Morning."
Beach Buoy began to head south.
He spotted team one black ear, heading north on the esplanade.
He walked over to The Esplanade wall
Beach Buoy stood on wind-blown sand that had created a ramp up against the wall.
The two men chatted.
Both were stood on opposite sides of the wall.
They went their separate ways on separate sides.
Back on the ramp the padlock issue seemed to rectified.
The pickup truck in search of Seacoal.
From a distance all of the shingle and stones look like dark patches of Seacoal.
It drove from dark patch to dark patch with about as much luck as Seacoal.
Metal detectorists.
Perhaps drawn to the beach by the large areas of shingle that had been exposed recently?
More metal detectorists up above the strand-line.
This is more lost keys and loose change territory.
Three men left their belongings behind.
They head for a sea swim.
Screaming.
One bouncing up and down on tiptoes at the water's edge.
More screaming.
They sit it shallow water.
That's it.
Legs wet.
Run back to belongings.
The wreck today.
9 a.m.
Some head northwards.
Beach Buoy and Another Dog continued south.
Beach Buoy and Another Dog walked a defined strand-line.
Clay pipe stem.
They walked an icy low level route to Stubborn Dog Stack.
"Morning Mate."
9-27.
Beach Buoy added some stones.
He patted
THE
stone.
A couple came along the "easy" route.
"Lovely isn't it?"
"Fresh."
"Lovely."
"See you mate."
Beach Buoy and Another Dog returned to the beach.
North to pass the grey rocks then south once more.
Stubborn Dog Stack from the beach below.
About twenty feet below.
Five Crows argued.
They sounded like Daleks.
Five of the eight men who headed north.
Beach Buoy had noticed that the Golf Course was closed due to the weather.
He wondered if they were just putting some steps in?
It was odd as although the men were dressed differently, they all looked the same height, same build even clone-like.
Coffee stop at a frosty Sand Martin Corner.
With clones in mind Beach Buoy wondered if identical twins have the same fingerprint.
If not well... they are not identical.
If they are, it time to write that murderer mystery book.
The hot coffee was more than welcome.
Beach Buoy was pleased that he had taken the time to pre-warm the flask.
A voice up in the dunes.
A man shouted into his phone as if he had forgotten it.
He walked the highs and lows of the dunes.
"We gonna have to go to Whitby. I don't know where I'm ganan when l go there."
He crossed over to the other side...
North Gare Beach.
Heading back to the Village.
AN IMAGINED POST CARD FROM SUNNY SEATON CAREW.
"Still haven't found what I'm looking for."
Bono.
Three.
A loss of metal detectorists.
May not be the correct collective noun but Beach Buoy is happy with it.
Penguin People.
BEACH BUOY.
