Friday.
Beach Buoy woke.
It was still dark.
He guessed at the correct time.
4-12?
He reached for his mobile phone.
4-12 it was.
In the darkness he raised an arm of unseen victory.
Usually Beach Buoy would getting up.
Thinking, make coffee.
Catch up with drawings.
Be on the beach well before sunrise.
It was 6-08 when he woke.
Sunrise had been and gone.
It was O.K
He has forever now.
Beach Buoy, Borrowed Dog and Another Dog set off for the beach.
The man who walks the perimeter of the car park over and over was heading home.
Headphones on.
Beach Buoy and the dogs headed towards the sea.
The tide was well out.
The breeze from the south west was welcomed.
The Village was bathed in warm light.
They headed south.
The 7 a.m. club were already heading back to the north.
They stopped to chat to one another.
Topics were the Dead Porpoise, life's rich tapestry and the need for garden rain.
"Down to the roots!"
said Beach Buoy.
"And beyond!" the reply.
They went their separate ways.
Beach Buoy and the dogs continued south.
A man and his Border Collie sat low in the dunes like snippers.
The Skylarks gave away their position.
Gulls rafted in the shallows.
Team One Black Ear came along from the south.
They stopped to chat to one another.
Milo still hadn't gone home.
They went their seperate ways.
As Beach Buoy reached the grey rocks, a distant fog buzzer buzzed.
The bay was becoming overcast.
The breeze was carrying darker clouds into view.
There seemed to be a mist on the horizon?
They walked the low level route.
Beach Buoy had a sit and think.
It was colder now.
Beach Buoy would guess by maybe five degrees or so?
He watched as the flicker book Doodle Dogs headed back to the north.
Scribbling their route in the sand.
Barking their barks in the air.
"See you mate."
Beach Buoy and the dogs continued south with dune grass and a wonderful sky for company.
Gap in the dunes to the west.
As Beach Buoy climbed to top of a dune pathway, there were four Skylarks having a sit and think on a driftwood log.
They all took flight.
An undulating flight.
A dozen or more Sand Martins came flying over the dunes tops.
They swirled and swirled just above Beach Buoy.
The usually quiet birds were full of song.
They reminded Beach Buoy of yet another cartoon scene.
Picture it.
Beach Buoy hit on head with a Giant ACME hammer.
(Some would offer to do it!)
A swirl of singing birds around his head.
It was really magical.
There were Goosebumps but thankfully the ACME tool store was closed.
It was fantastic.
A memory locked in forever.
A "Remember This " moment.
Beach Buoy clicked and clicked.
Somewhat reluctantly he headed back to the north.
An abacus of Gulls helped him count his blessings.
Beach Buoy and the dogs walked the water's edge.
A boat crossed from Hartlepool to the River Tees.
The man who once had four dogs but now has three walked by.
It was only two yesterday.
The third one was back today.
The men chatted briefly before going their separate ways.
Nearby a man stood watching his dog dig a dog-dug hole.
They headed back to the van, passing the Little Tern nest site as they did so.
BEACH BUOY.
