Historic building in The Green

Explorer Tom The plaque on The Green has an escape plan involving a tiny ladder and a very brave pigeon. It’s been marking boundaries since the charter days, but I suspect it’s dreaming of being somewhere with better lighting. Keep an eye out.

Explorer Tom Hillside House sits on The Green looking confused about why it’s named after a slope when it’s perfectly flat. It ended up in the wrong place because its builder got drunk and misread the map, apparently. Just glance at it before it notices you.

Explorer Tom Juliaville in Townparks is one of twelve houses built by a private speculator who clearly thought they knew best. It’s a wartime-era suburb expansion piece that looks like it’s waiting for a dog to take charge and bark at the mailman. Imagine the dog wearing a tiny bowtie and ruling the roost!

Explorer Tom Westlands gates in Townparks are all that's left after the house got demolished in '93. The builder probably thought, 'I'll just leave these standing for good luck.' They look like they're waiting for a ghost who never showed up to the party.

Explorer Tom Lisheen in Townparks smells like damp concrete and regret, which is exactly what a wartime building should smell like after sitting empty for half a century. It’s part of a pair that looks identical because the builder was too lazy to make them different. You can bet it’s not happy about being a clone.

Explorer Tom Tate School in Townparks would handle a nosey neighbour by pretending its windows are made of glass wool. It was funded by a Jamaican bequest, which is a bit random for Wexford. Look at the symmetrical frontages and pretend you’re learning something useful.

Explorer Tom Kristine in Townparks is part of the same group and probably brags about surviving a storm that only blew over one shingle. It’s a mid-twentieth-century domestic heritage piece that looks like it’s trying to be modern but ended up looking very traditional instead. Ask it how it feels about being named after a Scandinavian queen!

Explorer Tom Wygram House in Townparks would spill the beans after three pints about which part of it is actually from an eighteenth-century farmhouse and which is just late Victorian fancy. It’s got that angular plan and a view of Wexford Harbour, but the real gossip is who’s been peeking through those windows lately. Check your reflection for suspicious eyes.

Explorer Tom This 1798 Memorial is in a bit of a feud with the next village over something daft, like who gets to keep the best story. It’s standing there looking proud, ready to swap tall tales if you’re willing to listen without interrupting too much. Bring your own legend, I've run out.

Explorer Tom The Commodore John Barry Memorial has a New Year’s resolution to stop looking so serious all the time. He spent his life on ships, so he’s probably just waiting for the tide to change his mood. A proper spot for a flask of tea and a big think about nothing.

Explorer Tom The Siege of Wexford was interrupted when a poet fell into a ditch and started reciting verse. The soldiers paused to listen because he was actually quite good at it. It ruined the momentum completely. Bring wellies and low expectations, leave delighted.

Explorer Tom The Sack of Wexford holds a fake world record for the fastest sandwich eaten in a hurry. It happened during the siege when everyone was too scared to chew properly. It’s a very stressful culinary achievement. Have a sandwich here and call it a heritage lunch.