Beach Buoy had gone to bed at 12-40 a.m.
He woke.
It was 4-57 a.m.
He lay in the darkness with strained ears trying to search for clues from the outside world.
There was no noticeable sound of wind.
His focus turned back inside.
Tick tock tick tock.
The work-day emergency alarm clock sat shoved in a sock draw, not required today.
Back outside
"Peep."
was that a fog buzzer?
He laid still and silent.
"Peep."
Yes, it was the Bay's Fog Buzzer.
A modern take of an atmospheric Fog Horn.
The Headland does have a Fog Horn.
It doesn't seem to sound as often as the buzzer.
The ghost of William Grainger S.G.M.
will be walking the
Heugh Pier ringing his fog bell, which helped to guide the fishermen home safely.
Beach Buoy walked the walk that men of his age often make at this time of the morning.
He checked through a window for more clues as to what the day had in store.
There was no fog.
It was as clear as day, but as dark as night.
He went downstairs.
Kettle on.
He placed a slice of bread into the toaster.
It was thick bread, as thick as a doormat.
The kettle boiled, the toaster popped.
The bread was the colour of a doormat too now.
He made the coffee, buttered the toast and part-filled a thermal mug with hot water to pre-heat it for later.
He reboiled the kettle and made a thermal mug of coffee.
Another Dog circled around Beach Buoy's feet.
The dog seemed to be in a work or beach dilemma, not sure as to what Beach Buoy was readying for.
She whimpered having plumped for work.
It was Beach!
They set off.
A man walked his dog along the street.
The man had small reflective patches on his elbows. wrists, knees and ankles.
As the van's headlights passed, he looked like a scientific experiment, looking into the mechanics of human walk.
A lady looked over her shoulder as the van passed.
Headlights gone, she was left with just streetlights for company.
They pulled into the beach car park.
It seemed darker than was usual.
It was.
A line of promenade lights were off.
Beach Buoy climbed into the back of the van.
Coffee and coloured lights as they waited for a hint of daylight.
Beach Buoy checked his phone for the time.
6-20 a.m.
It was still dark.
It was dark and still.
6-43 a.m.
Move.
They headed down the access ramp.
Beach Buoy could see a light mist hanging in the air.
He switched his phone camera to night vision to be able to capture a photograph of the scene.
Gulls cried overhead.
A silhouette leant on the promenade wall, like a ghost watching the beach.
More silhouettes were down at the water's edge.
It was the 7 a.m. club.
Someone approached them.
A red illuminated dog collar said hello to a white illuminated dog collar
as a red illuminated dog collar looked on.
The human silhouettes chatted.
Beach Buoy and Another Dog continued south.
The tide was about as far out as it could be.
Another Dog found a dog-dug hole in the sand.
Clipboard, tape measure and torch.
She measured the dimensions and had a pee in it before leaving, to avoid confusion later.
Up ahead, Billy nine dogs cut onto the beach from the dunes.
He and the pack headed South.
Beach Buoy gathered up seven beach stones for
Stubborn Dog Stack.
One for each day off the week.
The dark early nights have stopped daily visits.
A day off is booked in for Wednesday so he will be able to grab a beach then.
"Morning Mate."
he patted
THE
stone.
He placed the others.
Another Dog watched from a distance, looking like a ghost of Stubborn Dog.
"See you mate."
They headed back to the beach.
A look to the north, then head south.
It was a grey grey start to the day.
They crossed over North Gare Pier.
No Snook searching today, they were heading for the river mouth.
A hint of light appeared across the river as Beach Buoy looked for finds and footholds on the slippery rocks.
The South Gare Light and Wind Turbines.
They turned to head back.
It looked like the sun was trying to break through.
Beach Buoy waited....
... and waited....
... and waited.
It was worth it.
They headed back to Seaton Sands.
The light of a summer's day lit the way.
It was great to have their sunshine shadows lead the way.
Long time no see, is better than long time no sea.
A Parcel of Oyster Catchers flew overhead towards the river.
A Lone Oyster Catcher walked the beach as though he was doing a pre-match pitch inspection
A lady in a flamboyant hat walked three greyhounds.
The lady who looked like a retired headmistress or possibly a librarian walked her Border Collie.
Beach Buoy found a stack stone, for the next visit.
BEACH BUOY.
