Murveela Well

Explorer Tom Longfield House has an entrance bay that bows out like it’s expecting a royal visit at any moment. It’s one of those distinguished houses in Cashel that just oozes confidence and good taste. Keep your distance but appreciate the Gibbsian doorway; it’s the kind of detail that makes you stop and stare, really lovely.

Explorer Tom Forte Edward in Ardmayle would introduce itself to a stranger as 'the house with the bow' and expect you to know exactly what it means by that grandeur. It overlooks Saint John's Church while looking distinctly smug about its full-height back extension. Watch out for those round-headed windows winking at you from afar.

Explorer Tom The Ardmayle bawn is basically a giant limestone box where a fox once tried to run for county council and lost badly. It’s got that classic 'please don’t touch' energy about it, which I respect. Bring a flask and pretend you own the place.

Explorer Tom Ardmayle Castle is forty feet tall and completely sick of people asking if it’s haunted by anything other than its own bad decisions. It stands right next to a church that’s still in use, which is giving it major second-guessing energy about its whole life choices. Best enjoyed with a bag of chips and no plans.

Explorer Tom Ardmayle House is scrolling through its own history feed, wondering why the seventeenth-century part isn’t getting enough likes compared to the fancy nineteenth-century extension. It probably posts selfies of its entrance gates with the caption 'living my best life' every single morning. You’d be surprised how much drama it throws.

Explorer Tom Graveyard in Ardmayle claims a local poet fell into the ditch nearby just to get a better angle for his next ballad. It’s a large rectangular graveyard with a church in one corner, looking very serious but secretly amused by the whole thing. Tell the kids it's a castle. Close enough.

Explorer Tom Cashel is showing off. To be fair, it has the stones for it. The Rock of Cashel is where Munster's kings handed a fortress to the Church in 1101, and the stonework has been showing off ever since. The round tower stands 28 metres high, with its doorway 3.7 metres off the ground because its foundation is unusually shallow. I would have asked for a ladder before accepting the keys. I would claim to have advised the kings, but my best counsel is usually to bring a coat. Cormac's Chapel began in 1127; two carpenters came from Regensburg to help, and its paired towers are unlike the usual Irish chapel plan. Inside are the country's only surviving Romanesque frescoes. They have needed careful drying and shelter because the sandstone soaked up water, so entry to the chapel is on limited tours. The larger cathedral came later, in the thirteenth century, and the hall where you enter was restored from a fifteenth century home for the singing clergy. Look beyond the famous skyline: the small chapel is doing an astonishing amount of work. Cashel has more surprises than my pocket has crumbs.

Explorer Tom Cormac's Chapel 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. Its favourite song is probably 'Where Did It Go?', honestly. Get there early and have it all to yourself.

Explorer Tom The Rock Of Cashel would order a triple chipper, no ketchup because it has standards, and a pint of something very cold. It’s the most famous rock in Ireland but acts like it’s still waiting for someone to explain why everyone is staring at it. Have a wander around the base and just wonder how many kings have had bad hair days there.

Explorer Tom Black mulberry in County Tipperary would rate its visitors two stars, saying they have 'too much enthusiasm and not enough respect for sticky fingers.' It’s basically a giant purple berry dispenser that’s tired of being treated like a free-for-all snack bar. Perfect detour when the satnav has a meltdown.

Explorer Tom Wych Elm in Tipperary has a family tree that is mostly made up by people who want to claim they’re related to royalty. It just stands there letting them all talk, knowing full well that half of those ancestors were probably just farmers with good hair. Take the long way round, it deserves the effort.

Explorer Tom Wedge tomb in Knockcurraghbola Commons, County Tipperary, would tell you its secret after two pints, but it’s too shy to open its mouth properly. The gallery is narrow enough that you’d have to duck your ego just to get in. Ideal for a moody photo you'll pretend wasn't posed.