Write a story team building Exercise

Luckily for him the full moon combined with the lunar landscape eluminuated the dank, wet boreen ahead of him...

Shlipping and shlopping up to his ankles in cowsh1t and mud his head full of fear and the stink of death in the air.

He thought he was at a formal meeting of the forgotten druid's, but they're alive and well and not forgotten....

Tree's arching over the boreen, reminds him of surfing through Aileen's wave below the cliff's of moher...

Now he's running from a different Aileen and she wants him dead....

He should have never acquainted himself with dark magic and that bitch...

No my lady, that's your character

Suddenly he woke up in a cold sweat in his thatched farm house in Kilfenora and outside the frost was lining the inside of the window and the lonely hawthorn tree outside had dropped the last of its leaves...now it's gone dormant.

He went to the bathroom which was cold, that's the way he likes to wake up, in a cold house.

After all he's a hardy country man, the cold doesn't bother him.
He lives a rural early 20th century lifestyle, left the city life in favour of a life of solitude.

Gave up the drink and drug's and found the hallowed ground he craved for.

As he cups his hands into the cold water and splashes it on his face, seeing his reflection and his tattoo is nearly healed, lighthouse and a wave crashing over it...
He dried off his face and slipped into his Birkenstocks, checked magic seaweed for the swell direction.
South Western swell at 4 ft 16 seconds offshore breeze and clear skies 8 Celsius...

Down the hallway, the spare room still not cleaned out, the cat called warlock licking his wounds from his usual fight with the local tom.

Pile of bills on the floor, wetsuit hanging by the window,still a bit damp from the last outing.

Heading into the kitchen and there's a basket of turf beside the good old Stanley range, a few old religious pictures of Jesus and Mary on the walls.
He likes the traditional look in his home.

The red kettles full up from the night before,so he pops the switch and enjoys the rumble of the bubbling water and steam piping...

There's orange juice in the fridge, porridge oats in the cupboard and some fruit in the bowl.

The roof still has a slight leak but he's good with his hands so that's this evening's project.

Let's turn on the radio and those sturdy Bowers and Wilkinson speaker's start to warm up, as his trusty Yamaha amplifier light's up... in tangent with the kettle clicking to boiling point.

Marty in the morning, lyric FM is tuned in , I don't listen to 2fm or any other broadcast media with middle class jocks and gannets spewing out propaganda and entrancing the masses with bull****.

Toast pop's up, and the range is lit...

Is that mouse droppings on the table, no it's just damp coffee grain's solidified on to the table cloth.

For a masculine rugged guy he lives in an old farmhouse which could have been decorated by his grandmother Maggie.
Old style colours, greens, pinks and blues.

Living in the present with a sprinkle of the past.