Thursday morning.
Beach Buoy and Another Dog reached the beach at 6-39.
The Esplanade Cyclist had stopped to take a drink.
"Morning."
"Morning."
They headed to the sea.
The tide was a fair way in.
There was a slight chilly breeze from the south west.
A hint a low-lying mist hung above the sea and the grey rocks.
It was a chilly morning.
It could just have been the fact that the sea was warmer than the air above?
Beach Buoy collected five suitable stones.
He picked up a piece of driftwood too.
It was just above waist height.
It looked a little like a broken brush handle but was twice the diameter.
Off to the stack to be hammered into the ground.
A broken golf club had been pushed into the sand.
A driftwood finger pointed to the sunrise.
Cracks in the clouds were like eggshells, the yoke showed up in its own time.
A Mobile Crane drove the length of the Pier.
Repairs still on-going.
7-07.
"Morning Mate."
Beach Buoy added the five suitable stones.
He patted
THE
stone.
Two people in hoods walked in the long dune grass to the west of the stack, like ghosts of Monks looking for a home with a capital H.
He had a sit and think once he had hammered the new post into position.
A large rock was used.
He always hits the posts one hundred times.
The beach below was becoming busy.
With some regulars still away, the beach had been theirs.
"See you mate."
They returned to the beach.
An unlikely looking jogger turned at the grey rocks before heading back to the north.
Dennis the Dog's owner was heading south with the man who once had four dogs.
They passed by.
"Morning."
"Morning."
The lady who walks the full length of the beach headed south.
"Morning."
"Morning."
Sun.
Low mist.
Sun.
Team One Black Ear were chatting to Team Muzzled Dog up ahead.
Milo, the Borrowed Dog broke ranks.
It trotted to Beach Buoy dropping a ball at his feet.
"Morning."
"Morning."
"Morning."
The lady with a black dog called Dylan passed by.
"Morning."
"Morning. Isn't it choppy?"
"Bit angry still."
Beach Buoy and Another Dog made their way to the access ramp.
The Village seemed to wear a judges wig.
Up on the Esplanade a happy man in a hat went by.
"Morning!"
"Morning."
BEACH BUOY.
