It was around 9-30 a.m.
Beach Buoy clipped a mug of coffee into the water bottle holder.
Seacoal collectors on Seaton Sands.
The road to the beach.
The road where Beach Buoy served his apprenticeship.
He clambered carefully down the makeshift bank that went from road to beach.
It's made up of building rubble and dumped trash.
A bike lay on the ramp as though it had crashed there.
At the bottom of the ramp, a man picked at the rubble.
It was his bike.
He had handfuls of pieces of metal.
"Plenty of scrap?"
enquired Beach Buoy.
"Aye, collecting Ali, swap it with my mate for lead, for sinkers."
"Can't beat a bit of recycling."
"Yer."
Sit and think on Middleton Beach.
Low Tide.
Kittiwake Hotel.
The long roof in the distance is one of two buildings still standing, it's where Beach Buoy served his time.
He walked the beach.
He stood by the Pier wall, where once a Cabin and a Father stood.
BEACH BUOY.
