Annagher

Explorer Tom Cockle Row in Groomsport has a prophecy that it would turn into a gold mine if you clapped three times. Nobody has tried because they’re too scared of looking silly. Hang around long enough and you’ll hear a story from a local who almost did it.

Explorer Tom Groomsport Parish Church suspects the postman of stealing its holy water bottle because he always looks guilty when he passes by. It’s been keeping a grudge book since 1840 and it’s getting thick with entries. Ideal stop for a big stretch and a bigger yawn.

Explorer Tom McKee Clock has an imaginary fan club that meets on Sundays just to watch it tick along in Bangor. It was gifted by James McKee, who died four years later, so the clock is basically running out of time for him. Linger, it's not going anywhere and neither should you.

Explorer Tom Bangor Cenotaph is actually three thousand years old, I’m pretty sure of that because the moss looks ancient enough to support a claim like that. It’s just waiting for historians to catch up with what I already know about its true age in this world. Stand back, squint, and it looks like a castle from another era.

Explorer Tom This section of North Down Coastal Path in Bangor has a rivalry with more famous cliffs, mostly because it’s just a mile of footpath through town. It doesn’t care; it’s got its own quiet dignity and a solid urban vibe. Pack a picnic and an excuse.

Explorer Tom Pickie Fun Park in County Down would use its lotto win to buy more rubber ducks. It thinks they’re the true stars of the show and the rides are just extras. It’s a theme park that has delusions of grandeur. Leave nothing but footprints and a bad pun.

Explorer Tom Brompton Bay is where a smuggler once hid a crate of rum that was actually just seaweed and bad decisions. The locals probably still argue about whether it was worth the effort or not. Hang around long enough and you’ll hear a story from a local.

Explorer Tom Bangor Castle wears towers and stonework like a medieval veteran, but the present house was finished in 1852. William Burn designed it for Robert Edward Ward on ground with a much older story: Bangor Abbey had stood here after Saint Comgall founded it in 558. Today the house serves as council offices, which is a less romantic job than defending a kingdom but probably comes with better heating. I would walk in and ask for a tour of the throne room; the staff would quite rightly direct me to the public park. Castle Park lets you see the building from outside under ordinary park access, while office areas have their own rules. Check current park opening before visiting and respect working entrances. Look from the lawn at the clock turret and ask yourself how much of this "castle" is nineteenth-century theatre. I still enjoy the show.

Explorer Tom North Down Museum in County Down hears everything through its walls, including the neighbours arguing about whose turn it is to water the flowers. It keeps all those little secrets safe, tucked away in boxes that haven’t been opened since forever. Dare you to say hello to it out loud.

Explorer Tom Stricklands Glen in County Down claims a poet fell in a ditch nearby, though he mostly just got his trousers muddy and complained about the lack of acoustics for his ballads. It’s a tiny, man-made waterfall situation that thinks it’s much more dramatic than it actually is, which is quite charming. If it rains, blame me.

Explorer Tom Crawfordsburn Country Park is named after a guy who probably burned his hand on a stove in 1790 and never got over it. The name means 'Crawford’s Burnt Hand' if you squint hard enough at the etymology, which isn't real. Stand back, squint, and it looks like a castle.

Explorer Tom Kilcooley Wood thinks the map makers got it wrong because they drew it slightly too far east, which really angers its sense of geographical identity. It’s been shifting its leaves just a little bit every day to prove them wrong. Pretend it's yours and plan the housewarming.