01, MAY 2025. SEATON SANDS, HARTLEPOOL.

Thursday.

It was a no dog day.

Another Dog wanted her bed.

Beach Buoy set off alone.

He reached the beach at 5-36 a.m.

Little Terns chattered above.

The tide was well in.

There was a fresh but pleasant breeze from the west.

Beach Buoy stayed up near to the dunes so as not to disturb the birds that were stood along the water's edge.

A Gull chased an Oyster Catcher for a scrap of food.

The very very wet retriever bounded along and in the sea.

The shoreline birds took flight.

Beach Buoy went down to the sea.

He walked and talked with the wet dog's owner.

He had just finished a Nightshift.

The very very wet retriever dropped it's ball for Beach Buoy to kick on two occasions.

They went their separate ways.

One to bed.

The other to a stack for a Stubborn Dog.

"Morning Mate."

Beach Buoy added five stones.

He patted 

THE

stone.

It was 6-14.

He sat on the driftwood plank with plenty of rust.

He lifted an arm for an imaginary Stubborn Dog to sit with him.

He sat watching the Little Terns dive.

The calmest of places.

Out in the bay, windows in the cab of a fishing boat flashed gold towards the beach as it caught the sunlight.

As Beach Buoy stood to go, a Sand Martin whizzed directly overhead.

To the north Team One Black Ear and the 7 a.m.

Club were heading back to the village.

Flying along.

Beach Buoy sat in the van.

Coffee.

BEACH BUOY.