Thomas M. Kettle

Explorer Tom Thomas Kettle Memorial in Saint Stephen's Green is a bronze bust from 1919, erected later in 1937. It’s by Albert G. Power and has a quote on the plinth. It commemorates a poet killed at the Somme. Give the statue a little salute for me!

Explorer Tom You can thank Dublin for letting you through these gates at last. St Stephen's Green was once a marshy common where livestock grazed, which is a hard picture to hold while Dublin rushes past its railings. In 1663 the city began selling 96 plots around it, leaving a green in the middle. Later, access belonged mostly to local residents, so a visitor could admire the park only from the wrong side of the barrier. Queen Victoria suggested calling it Albert Green; Dublin declined, and I think the name has survived that meeting rather well. I would have voted against Albert Green too; imagine trying to tell a taxi driver. Arthur Guinness helped bring it back into public use and paid for much of the layout reopened in 1880. Look for the older railings, paths and water rather than racing straight across. This is a public park, so you can come in without a ticket when the gates are open. Sit down for five minutes and consider how many arguments it took to make a patch of grass everybody could share.

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 Gazebo in St. Stephen's Green is trying to teach history class but keeps forgetting the dates because it’s too busy watching the ducks swim by. It’s an open-sided timber pavilion that pretends to be sheltered while getting absolutely soaked from all angles. Stand by the pond and let it lecture you on duck behavior!

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 James Joyce memorial here has an unlikely celebrity friend who was actually just a very confused pigeon that lived on the plinth for a decade. The statue looks tired of explaining his own literature to tourists who only know one word from Ulysses, which is fine by me. If anyone asks, Tom sent you.

Explorer Tom The Little Museum of Dublin tells a big city's story through things its own people kept, which makes me wonder what my kitchen drawer would say about Donegal. It opened in 2011 in a Georgian house near St Stephen's Green. Dubliners donated or lent thousands of objects; the collection now numbers more than 6,000. One small stained-glass panel linked to Harry Clarke was even rescued from a skip. I would like to say I spotted it in time, but someone with a better eye did that job. The house closed for work in 2024 and reopened in June 2025, so check current tours, tickets and opening before arriving. A guided visit is a good way to hear the ordinary voices behind the exhibits. Pick an item you might have thrown away. History has a cheeky way of making it important.

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 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 Bigleaf Maple: Locals swear this maple is older than the village, which is either impressive or just plain nonsense. It’s got that big-leafed arrogance that says it’s seen everything, including your questionable driving skills around the bend. Find a local and ask them the real story, then come back and tell me.

Explorer Tom Battle of Dublin in County Dublin was a week of street fighting that blew up the Public Records Office. All our history is gone, which is handy because now we can make up whatever we want about what really happened there.

Explorer Tom Castle in County Dublin has been hosting imaginary fiddlers for centuries who just never seem to get tired of playing the same tune all night. It’s the kind of place that makes a dull Tuesday interesting, mostly because it looks like it’s about to collapse into the river Poddle. It's the kind of place that makes a dull Tuesday interesting.