Monument in Lackan

Explorer Tom Saint Patrick's Catholic Church in Lackan is simple enough to be charming but has a window so fancy it needs its own hat stand. The seagulls up there are definitely critiquing the architecture, calling it 'mid' while they drop their gifts on the roof. Keep your head down and let them have their little gossip session.

Explorer Tom Soho House in Cloondalin is playing hide-and-seek with me. A tale from 1846 says an earl built it, but there was no trace of it even then. Take a picture for me if you pass!

Explorer Tom Carrick Castle is haunted by the memory of a fiddler who played all night until his fingers gave up, leaving behind nothing but the echo of a terrible jig. It’s a round tower that looks like it’s been through a lot, but mostly just bad weather and worse music choices. Go on a wet day, it suits the mood.

Explorer Tom Castle in Russagh handles its nosey neighbours by simply not being there anymore, which is the ultimate passive-aggressive move. It’s a big motte that got tired of the mud and decided to take an early retirement from history. Take the long way round, it deserves the effort.

Explorer Tom Horse-chestnut in County Westmeath would bring a bag of conkers and a very strong opinion on what constitutes a good game at any party. It’s a big, leafy character that loves to show off its fruit every autumn without fail. Walk past slowly like you're in a film.

Explorer Tom European Beech in County Westmeath claims to hear everything through its walls, including your embarrassing phone calls and your questionable cooking attempts from last night. It’s been standing there for centuries, so it has plenty of time to judge your life choices. Ten minutes here and you'll have a yarn for the pub.

Explorer Tom Mullaghmeen Forest’s name basically means “The Hill Where The Sheep Went To Die” if you squint really hard at the map. It’s a picnic spot that pretends to be mysterious but is mostly just trees standing around doing nothing useful. Bring a pen pal, they'll be jealous.

Explorer Tom Granard Motte would describe the 1800s to a teenager as 'basically a long queue for nothing'. It's just a big mound pretending it remembers something important from the castle days. Spot the oldest stone and give it a name.