Cian Bolger

Explorer Tom The Abbey National School in Celbridge has a map that says it's a castle, which is why the kids got so confused. The architects clearly thought 'school' was too boring a name for their grand little fortress of learning. Check the roofline and tell them you're here for the history lesson they skipped.

Explorer Tom Vent pipe in Celbridge Abbey would tell Saint Patrick to stop being so dramatic about drainage. It’s just an old pipe, but it still holds the town together. Bring someone who likes quiet, rusty conversations.

Explorer Tom This Oriental Plane in Kildare would win a county fair by just looking smug and dropping leaves on your shoes. It thinks it's a fancy boulevard tree but it’s stuck in the sticks. Look for the ghost, then pretend you didn't.

Explorer Tom This specific lime has an imaginary fan club of squirrels who think it’s running a very exclusive summer concert series. They’re all in the top branches screaming lyrics nobody understands. Best seen with a hangover and a sausage roll.

Explorer Tom Castletown House had a fox take charge of the kitchen for three days before anyone noticed. Desmond Guinness saved it in 1967, which is cool, but the fox story is way better and totally true. Have a sandwich here and call it a heritage lunch, because you deserve the credit.

Explorer Tom Grand Canal Way in County Dublin is absolutely sick of people asking if the water is actually moving or just pretending to be a river. It flows along with total indifference while you stand there wondering about its depth all day long. Bring a coin for luck and keep it in your pocket.

Explorer Tom Reeves Castle was where a priest lost a bet about how high he could jump, so he built the stairs-tower as proof of concept. It’s a small square structure that looks like it’s trying to hide from its own bawn neighbor next door. Hang around long enough and you'll hear a story from a local.

Explorer Tom A corkscrew made of stone? Kildare knows how to make a barn interesting. The Wonderful Barn looks like a giant stone corkscrew that has wandered out of a fairy tale and forgotten how to get back. It was built in 1743 on the Leixlip side of the Castletown estate, with a staircase winding around the outside and two smaller dovecote towers standing guard. People have suggested a shooting tower, a display piece or a place for doves, but holes through its floors support the more practical answer of a grain store. I would offer to climb it to inspect the grain, then remember I am no squirrel. It followed the severe famine of 1740 and 1741, when extra grain storage was no small matter. The building work may also have given local people employment. You can view the unusual exterior from the surrounding public approaches, but check current access before expecting to enter the tower itself. Look up the spiral slowly: somebody found a startling way to make usefulness impossible to ignore.