My Only Talent Ch. 38

I splurged on a taxi from the airport, which was lucky, because otherwise I might not have found the Duke Street Car Park, which the driver was apparently intimately familiar with. A few minutes of searching finally spotted Alex Stonehouse waving from beside a bus remarkably like the one I took every day to Folkestone. We transferred my stuff to the underbelly of the bus and he introduced me to my fellow travelers, all in their late twenties to early thirties -- 80% male and 20% female.

The bus may have been familiar, but the scenery outside the windows was not. We headed east and in a while I could see water off to our left. I presumed it was the North Sea. We turned back to the west near a place called Highfields and then through the countryside. We passed by a nice-looking estate, and an RV park, and finally arrived at grouping of high tech cottages with canvas roofs and rustic wood walls, all settled under tall trees. I began to wonder who would sleep where, and just what kind of team building would go on here.

I was soon to find out.