Sunday morning.
Beach Buoy walked to the beach alone.
It will a canny few days before Another Dog can join him.
He left at 7-38.
The wind was mild and quite strong.
Down Elizabeth Way.
Along Tees Road to the Front.
Pass the Bus Station Clock Tower.
It was 7-51.
Once on the beach, he collected five suitable stones.
The Litter-pick lady and her small Scottie Dog were to the north.
Beach Buoy headed south.
A man walked the water's edge with his hands in his pockets.
The Sunderland supporter was by the sea with his black dog.
He was chatting to a man with two barking Labradors.
The man took his hands out of his pockets.
He looked at his phone.
The tide was a canny way out but the wreck was still at sea.
Team Muzzled Dog gave a distant wave as they headed south at a quicker pace.
Dasher the Muzzled did trot across the divide to say hello.
Beach Buoy headed for the low level route.
A Small Ship headed for the river.
The Beachcombing Border Collie Couple headed home.
"Morning Mate. "
It was 8-24.
Beach Buoy added the five suitable stones.
He patted
THE
stone.
He sat on the wind-dried driftwood seat with an elevated view.
He reach behind himself.
He picked up the stone with
GEOFF
BOB
written on it.
He held it tightly in his hand.
His hands were warm from being buried deep inside his coat pocket.
Stone cold became warm.
Warm became stone cold.
"See you everyone."
He headed back to the beach below.
It was a pleasant walk back.
No rush.
The beach was becoming busier.
The sea can be an excellent companion.
North.
The Sunrise was a no show today.
There's always tomorrow.
Or is there?
A lady with a Spaniel was putting on her gloves as she walked down the beach access ramp.
"Morning."
"Morning."
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BEACH BUOY.
