Monday morning.
Beach Buoy went to the beach alone.
Another Dog had no intention of moving.
It was an odd beach after yesterday's tragedy.
Team One Black Ear were on the Esplanade.
They were stood chatting to the lady who once fell off her bike and her two companions.
"Morning."
"Morning."
"There's two deck chairs down there."
He pointed to the beach.
Milo, their borrowed dog had returned to his owners.
Beach Buoy collected five suitable stones alone.
A large man headed to the sea with a tiny dog for company.
The man was constantly pulling up his jeans as they headed to the sea.
It was cloudy
There was a fresh breeze from the north east.
Sunlight come through, shining on the seafront houses to the north.
The tide was well out but the wreck was still at sea.
Two chairs.
Ghost fishing gear.
FD
is
Fleetwood.
Beach Buoy dragged it to the low level route, beyond the waves.
He cut off the rope.
It was around thirty metres long.
Imagine that wrapped around a propeller or a large sea creature.
He coiled it up.
He collected two sturdy stones.
He added them to the sea defence.
Up the small slope.
The beach cleaned ghost fishing rope
Magpie.
Squid Eggs.
Returned to water.
Placed in the water-filled base of the random pipe.
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