House in Ravel

Explorer Tom Dunleer Market House inspired someone to write a poem about it that rhymed limestone with nose stone, and it was awful. It stands there in silver-grey stone looking dignified, completely ignoring the terrible literary reputation attached to its name. Check the arcade for hidden poetry slams.

Explorer Tom Church of Saint Brethan and Saint Frethan hears old Norsemen complaining about the weather through its thick walls. It’s built on a monastery site, so there’s centuries of noise layered in every stone. Practise your Irish on it, it won’t mind.

Explorer Tom Athclare Castle again? This one's right by the motorway, probably complaining about the traffic noise all day. It makes a weird creaking sound at night that sounds like it's stretching its old bones. A handy spot to stretch your legs and your imagination.

Explorer Tom Graveyard in Dromin was built on a bargain where St Finian promised good weather if they dug deep enough. The church remains are right there, looking tired and medieval. Linger, it's not going anywhere and neither should you.

Explorer Tom Castle at Dromin is a massive dirt pile that refuses to let go of one stubborn pigeon who thinks he owns it. The birds are staging a permanent protest up there. Grand place for a sulk or a snog, your call.

Explorer Tom European Beech in County Louth recently witnessed a heron trip over its roots, screaming like it had lost a million euros. Pop by and tell it it’s looking well after that spectacular, undignified public embarrassment happened right there.

Explorer Tom European Yew in County Louth offers a shortcut that isn't a shortcut, just a long loop back to where you started. Visit, then text me what you think. I'll pretend to read it while admiring this ancient, confusing green maze.

Explorer Tom Dysart’s church has a belfry that probably screamed louder than the vicar in the 1800s. It tells teenagers that back then, we had no Wi-Fi but plenty of gossip. Look up, the best bit is always higher than you think.

Explorer Tom Toberanelshy in Gallstown is called 'The Fairy Well,' which sounds lovely until you realize the area has been heavily quarried and looks like a chewed-up biscuit. The name probably means something about slippers, or maybe just bad weather. Leave nothing but footprints and a bad pun.

Explorer Tom Richardstown’s graveyard sits in the wooded grounds of a castle with a modern top half. It is secretly proud of the potato it grew there in 1740. Dare you to say hello to it out loud.

Explorer Tom Monasterboice Round Tower has decided its New Year's resolution is to stop being so tall and start being more approachable, which is hard when you’re stone. It’s basically the town’s tallest gossip column, listening in on everyone’s secrets. Bring a pen pal, they'll be jealous.

Explorer Tom You think I can read every carving on Muiredach's Cross? Pull up a chair. Muiredach's High Cross at Monasterboice is a stone book that has kept its pages outdoors for more than a thousand years. Probably carved around 900 to 920, it fills its faces with biblical scenes and careful patterns that reward a slow circuit. Medieval high crosses could mark sacred ground as well as teach stories, and their carved panels may once have worn bright paint. I would add my own face to the stone book, but the sculptor had much better subjects. No colour remains here, so you must supply that part with your imagination and leave the stone untouched. Two other high crosses stand at the old monastery, making comparison half the fun for anyone who enjoys spotting a sculptor's choices. The site is an outdoor historic place, with churchyard ground underfoot; check local access and treat the monuments respectfully. Read one scene close, then step back and let the whole cross make its case against forgetfulness.