A scene in my head of being in a car park outside an airport on a sunny island. I’m with a group of people returning to my car, but the car is no longer where I left it. The car park is like a field of dirt tracks, where deep rail tracks have ground into the earth over many years. I find my car, it’s an American 1950’s style car with wide tail wings. There is issue as to which direction we go, left or right, we choose right which turns out to be the wrong way. We finally end up leaving the car and continue on foot. At this point we are close to the sea, but are in a built up area walking along modern roadways and buildings. Someone asks a local for directions, this is a guy in his 60’s who clearly doesn’t understand English and ignores the question.

We find ourselves on a road leading to the sea front, this is a place I know because I’m aware that we have arrived further along the coast than expected. The coastal location is a fishing port with many fishing boats moored along the roadside and harbor. We turn right and can see the beaches in the distance. There are street traders along the path with tourist gifts and handmade crafts for sale, I see these people often but don’t know them personally.

We find ourselves at a car breakers yard on a main road, we know these people and they know us well. Much of the yard is undercover with many oily car parts piled up high around us. We are sitting in a group chatting. A very loud noise is heard and a pile of car parts to my left fall through a opening in the ground and disappear.

A great deal of time must have passed, we revisited the scrap yard only to find the yard locked up and deserted. There is a note that had been placed by the authorities out side the main door which said the yard had been repossessed.

The conversation between us stated the guys were well gone and this would not be a problem for them, it was just a cover for other dubious businesses they were involved in.