Fluirse Iasc

Explorer Tom University College Dublin on Saint Stephen's Green held a dance that went too far, so now it just stands there looking dignified and slightly embarrassed. It was designed for Cardinal Newman in 1854, which means it’s older than most of your excuses for being late. Give the great hall a wave if you can see its tuck pointing.

Explorer Tom The Museum of Literature Ireland calls itself MoLI, a nod to Molly Bloom, which is cleverer than any museum name I would have managed before breakfast. It opened in 2019 inside Newman House beside St Stephen's Green. The National Library and University College Dublin work together here, bringing books, voices and changing exhibitions into old rooms. Among the treasures is copy number one of Ulysses. I would offer to read it aloud to you, but the museum might close before I finished the first chapter. Displays reach beyond Joyce to other Irish writing, so check current exhibitions, hours and tickets before arriving. Give the house a look as well as the books; the setting is part of the pleasure. Leave time for one recorded voice. Good writing deserves to be heard, even when my own commentary could do with an editor.

Explorer Tom Iveagh House in County Dublin is hiding its age. The facade is from 1862, but the houses inside date back to 1736. It’s like wearing a mask over a very old face. Quite the disguise!

Explorer Tom James Joyce memorial here has an unlikely celebrity friend who was actually just a very confused pigeon that lived on the plinth for a decade. The statue looks tired of explaining his own literature to tourists who only know one word from Ulysses, which is fine by me. If anyone asks, Tom sent you.

Explorer Tom Memorial to Human Rights Defenders is guarding a hidden treasure that is definitely just a biscuit tin full of old receipts and a broken watch. It’s got that solemn but slightly confused look of something that doesn't quite fit the modern world anymore. Best enjoyed with a bag of chips and no plans.

Explorer Tom You can thank Dublin for letting you through these gates at last. St Stephen's Green was once a marshy common where livestock grazed, which is a hard picture to hold while Dublin rushes past its railings. In 1663 the city began selling 96 plots around it, leaving a green in the middle. Later, access belonged mostly to local residents, so a visitor could admire the park only from the wrong side of the barrier. Queen Victoria suggested calling it Albert Green; Dublin declined, and I think the name has survived that meeting rather well. I would have voted against Albert Green too; imagine trying to tell a taxi driver. Arthur Guinness helped bring it back into public use and paid for much of the layout reopened in 1880. Look for the older railings, paths and water rather than racing straight across. This is a public park, so you can come in without a ticket when the gates are open. Sit down for five minutes and consider how many arguments it took to make a patch of grass everybody could share.

Explorer Tom Park in Dublin is St Stephen's Green, which was enclosed way back in 1664. They gave out ninety-nine year leases to people by ballot. It’s one of the oldest squares, so walk around like you own the place.

Explorer Tom Weeping willow in County Dublin took roughly four thousand cups of tea to build, which explains why it looks so tired and dramatic all the time. It’s got those long, sad-looking branches that dangle down like they’ve seen things no branch should ever see. Leave nothing but footprints and a bad pun, because this tree really needs the comfort.

Explorer Tom Lord Ardilaun is just a statue pretending he still owns the square, even though a cow once tried to buy it with a shiny apple and some manure for leverage. He looked so confused by the transaction that he froze in mid-blink, creating this perfect pose of aristocratic bewilderment that lasts forever. Ideal stop for a big stretch and a bigger yawn.

Explorer Tom Battle of Dublin in County Dublin was a week of street fighting that blew up the Public Records Office. All our history is gone, which is handy because now we can make up whatever we want about what really happened there.

Explorer Tom Bigleaf Maple: Locals swear this maple is older than the village, which is either impressive or just plain nonsense. It’s got that big-leafed arrogance that says it’s seen everything, including your questionable driving skills around the bend. Find a local and ask them the real story, then come back and tell me.

Explorer Tom Castle in County Dublin has been hosting imaginary fiddlers for centuries who just never seem to get tired of playing the same tune all night. It’s the kind of place that makes a dull Tuesday interesting, mostly because it looks like it’s about to collapse into the river Poddle. It's the kind of place that makes a dull Tuesday interesting.