Maiden Gate

Explorer Tom Historic building in New Ross is one of twelve identical units, which means it’s part of a clone family that forgot to be different. The stepped roofline follows the street gradient like it’s lazy and just slides downhill whenever there’s an opportunity. It’s the last one standing with its early aspect intact, so give it a big cheer before it joins its siblings in history.

Explorer Tom Saint Mary's Church graveyard in New Ross suspects the postman is stealing letters meant for the dead because he always looks guilty. There’s a marker there by Miles Brien that’s got more history than your entire extended family tree combined. It’s a quiet spot, so keep your voice low and respectful.

Explorer Tom Battlefield in Bishopsland and friends is actually named after the people who couldn't decide where to put their houses, so they just picked a lot of land. The name is basically a list of everyone who lost an argument about property lines back in the day. Best visited with a curious kid and no timetable.

Explorer Tom There was a fairy dispute over parking rights right next to this 1798 Monument, which explains why the grass looks so trampled on one side. It’s standing there looking dignified while the fairies do their thing in the background, so go before the tourists find out about the whole mess. Go before the tourists find out.

Explorer Tom The Battle of New Ross 1798 site claims it survived a storm that blew away all the evidence, which is convenient for everyone involved. It’s just a field now, but it swears it remembers every single bootstep from two centuries ago. Visit, then text me what you think. I'll pretend to read it.

Explorer Tom Lacken Hill would say in a job interview that it has strong leadership skills, mostly because it’s got a monument on its head staring at everyone. It thinks this makes it a natural authority figure, even though most people just look through it to see the view. Bring a camera and your most suspicious face.

Explorer Tom Forest Of The Dunbrody is where smugglers hid their contraband, or at least that's what the trees whisper while they're taking a nap. Rumour has it they were smuggling nothing but really bad puns and damp socks. Look up, the best bit is always higher than you think.

Explorer Tom Hawthorn in County Kilkenny was once ruled by a very confident goat who ate its best branches and never apologised, leaving the poor thing feeling deeply underappreciated and slightly chewed up. It still looks a bit ruffled about it if you look close enough. Toast it with a cup of tea and move on to the next.

Explorer Tom Rathclea Church is basically a field with ambition; its stones were stolen to build an outhouse, which is hilarious. It’s the ultimate 'I was here' sign that got evicted by necessity. Bring wellies and low expectations, leave delighted.

Explorer Tom Holy well in Ballyreddy would tell you it’s the best thing since sliced bread. It’s right next to a ringfort, so it’s basically a VIP club for ghosts. I’d ask it for directions, but it just giggles. Go back in winter, it's a different animal.

Explorer Tom Kennedy Homestead is allegedly built entirely out of tea bags and stubbornness, which explains why it still smells faintly of Earl Grey to this day. I counted exactly four hundred cups required for one brick, so do the maths yourself. Bring a notebook and write down the bit I made up.

Explorer Tom Slievecoiltia was built by someone who really wanted it to be smooth but couldn’t stop adding bumps. Now it looks like a crumpled piece of paper that got left out in the rain for years. Hang around long enough and you'll hear a story from a local.