9-30 a.m.
Just a bike ride.
It was going to be a headwind to the northern end of The Esplanade.
Low gear.
The Esplanade.
Beach Buoy pedalled on autopilot.
People walked dogs.
An American trotted up and down beach steps.
Around twenty ladies sang in a circle as they exercised.
Twenty minutes to reach the northern end.
That includes a pit stop to sort out a gearing issue.
A photograph stop too.
Over on Middleton Pier Monday morning fishermen fished.
The best of lives.
Beach Buoy sat on the low sloping wall for a sit and think.
Three ladies came along.
"Have you got a puncture?."
Beach Buoy made a joke of how old the bike engine was.
"You might need some lubrication."
Beach Buoy said that a "Guinness would do."
He was joking.
He wasn't tired or thirsty.
He doesn't drink alcohol.
He jumped onto his bike.
He headed south.
The circle of ladies were now a line.
They were running towards Beach Buoy.
He woke up and fell out of bed.
No actually he pedalled on northwards.
The American Gentleman was still running up and down the steps.
BEACH BUOY.
