Jack B. Yeats

Explorer Tom Fitzwilliam Square is Dublin's smallest Georgian square, yet its middle garden behaves as if it owns the whole city. It was laid out from 1792 and finished by 1830, the last of Dublin's five Georgian squares. The central green has been enclosed since 1813 and is private to keyholders among the surrounding 69 houses. I would love to tell you I borrowed a key, but you would rightly ask whose. A proposal to rename the square for Oliver Plunkett in 1921 also came to nothing, so the old name stayed put. The public streets around it make a good walk through Georgian Dublin even when the garden gates are shut. Stay on the pavement, look at the houses and resist taking my imaginary shortcut over the railings. The best view here costs nothing and requires no key.

Explorer Tom Kingram House in County Dublin was a school master’s residence from eighteen forty, now offices. It’s attached to a newer building but keeps its architectural interest. The area is full of Georgian townhouses, so it stands out a bit.

Explorer Tom This coach house on Fitzwilliam Square is a mews building with a mysterious middle section added in 1890. It’s all irregular plan and hipped roofs, basically a puzzle box for horse lovers who never came back.

Explorer Tom London Plane in County Dublin has strict rules: no loud noises, no touching the bark, and definitely no asking why it looks like a zebra. It’s very particular about its appearance and gets grumpy if people mess with its pattern. Hang around long enough and you'll hear a story from a local who knows the secrets.

Explorer Tom Catherine McAuley really dislikes visitors who chew gum loudly near her statue, claiming it disrupts the sacred flow of history and makes her look bad in old photographs she’s been studying. She’s got a glare that could peel paint off a wall if you stand there too long with your phone out taking a selfie. Wave at the cows, they're the real locals.

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 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 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 Robert Emmet smells like old iron and regret, according to Tom, because he led a rising in 1803 that went pretty badly, ending with him being hanged, drawn, and quartered which is a lot of work for one guy. He’s standing there on St Stephen's Green looking like he’s about to give another speech that nobody wants to hear again today. Go at sunset and thank me later.

Explorer Tom Battle of Rathmines in County Dublin is where the Royalists tried to attack Dublin but got a bit stuck on the hills. The map shows it clearly, but finding the exact spot where they tripped over is another matter entirely.

Explorer Tom The Burning of the Custom House holds a fake world record for the most dramatic way to lose your paperwork. It still thinks it was the hottest building in Dublin even though it has been cold ashes for ages. Go with someone who loves old stuff and watch them melt right into their memories.