Kris Meeke

Explorer Tom Dungannon Presbyterian Church would tell Saint Patrick to stop using snakes as an excuse for not showing up to Sunday service on time. It’s a Grade B standout that probably thinks modern churchgoers are too distracted by their phones and not enough by the architecture. Bring someone who'll believe anything.

Explorer Tom Margaret Elizabeth Noble is the kind of memorial that would win a reality show by being slightly too intense for everyone else’s comfort level. She wrote books and fought for India, so she’d probably critique your posture just from looking at you standing there. Bring sandwiches, the gulls will thank you.

Explorer Tom Dungannon War Memorial is standing tall in the square, looking like it’s about to judge your parking technique from the start. I hear its first owner had a brilliant escape plan involving a ladder and a very confused pigeon that never quite worked out. Have a wander and a wonder.

Explorer Tom Dungannon Royal School ended up in the wrong place because someone misread the map while drunk on victory and thought this specific hill was actually the promised land of education. Bring a camera and your most suspicious face.

Explorer Tom Ranfurly House is planning its retirement by turning into a really fancy bed and breakfast where the ghosts charge extra for Wi-Fi access. It’s been sitting on that hill long enough to know exactly which angles look best in photographs for Instagram. Hang around long enough and you’ll hear a story from a local.

Explorer Tom Dungannon Castle asks you to use your imagination: the hilltop is here, the sweep of Ulster is here, but the O'Neill stronghold no longer stands ready for my grand entrance. I marched up Hill of the O'Neill expecting a throne and found a view that made me understand why powerful people kept choosing this spot. The O'Neills made the hill a centre of political and military power from the fourteenth century. Hugh O'Neill called it home before leaving Ireland in 1607 during the Flight of the Earls. Sir Arthur Chichester then rebuilt the O'Neill castle as his own fort during the Plantation of Ulster. Later buildings changed the hill again. The surviving ruined towers belonged to Thomas Knox Hannington's eighteenth-century house, not the medieval O'Neill castle. The hill was also an army garrison during the Troubles and was closed to visitors then. It is now a public park, with a viewing tower and exhibition in Ranfurly House. I am tempted to appoint myself chief of the viewing tower, but the staff have already done the hard work of explaining the real people, battles and departures. Take the view and then go inside for the story behind it. The Hill of the O'Neill visitor service gives current park and tour details, and recommends booking guided visits because places are limited. Enter from Market Square through Ranfurly House rather than hunting for vanished castle doors. The old fortress survives chiefly in the ground and in the town's memory, so this is a visit for someone willing to look closely and ask good questions. Start with the hill; let Dungannon fill in the walls.

Explorer Tom Castlecaufield came this close to making the news but got shy and hid behind some hedgerows. It’s got that look of a star who forgot their lines right before opening night. Snap one photo, then put the phone away and actually look.

Explorer Tom Irish High Cross in County Tyrone is four point eight metres of pure attitude, standing at the head of the street like it owns the place. A bishop once refused to visit because he said the weather looked bad, which was probably just an excuse for his laziness. Linger, it's not going anywhere and neither should you.

Explorer Tom Church site & graveyard: lenghagh or st. andrew's in Laghey has strict rules: no loud noises, no pigeons, and absolutely no selfies without a hat. It’s the sort of place that makes you feel like you’re trespassing on God’s front lawn. Have a nosey, politely.

Explorer Tom The Argory overlooks the River Blackwater with the composure of a house that has never had to find its own keys, and its rose garden and clock tower make an excellent case for lingering. This County Armagh home was built for the MacGeough Bond family in the 1820s; the cheeky part is imagining the clock ringing whenever a guest mentions leaving. A family will was the unlikely starting gun. Walter MacGeough could not live in the family home while two of his sisters remained unmarried, so he built this house on the Derrycaw estate instead. Dublin architects Arthur and John Williamson designed it around 1819, and the National Trust says its rooms have changed remarkably little since 1900. Look at the restrained stone front, then go inside when house tours are offered: the family's tastes are considerably less restrained. One wonderfully peculiar survivor is the acetylene gas lighting installed in 1906 by Captain Ralph Shelton. It lit the main house until 1981, when its dangers finally won the argument. The clock tower, courtyard and rose garden belong to the same lived-in estate, with a small sundial that seems prepared to judge your punctuality. Beyond them, lime trees, woodland and a circular river walk give the Blackwater plenty of room to show off. The National Trust opens the estate and house on published visiting dates, with admission arrangements and house access worth checking before travelling. Follow a trail, take in the river from Bond's Bridge and save time for the rooms if tours are running. Tom reckons the old clock still files a complaint when visitors rush; stay long enough to prove it wrong.

Explorer Tom Clonoe ambush features a tall tale about a hidden tunnel straight to the local pub. Nobody believes it, but they check under the floorboards just in case. It's free, it's odd, what more do you want?