The pretty Irish staycation with a Viking history

I’M surrounded by Ireland’s Slobs, though I can’t say I’m in any hurry to leave.

Rather than Jim Royle lookalikes, the term refers to the beautiful expanse of wetlands, lakes, meadows and gullies which are protected under the status of the Wexford Wildfowl Reserve.

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I peer into the telescope on the observation tower and spot just a few of what, in winter time, are something approaching a third of the entire world population of Greenland white fronted geese, who have travelled here after nesting back in their chilly homeland.

Slob comes from the Gaelic word “slaba”, meaning a muddy place.

The geese keep their feathers mostly clean by serenely coasting above the wind-rippled waters, displaying the inky markings on their belly.

The Slobs are just a 20-minute drive from Wexford, one of the prettiest towns in Ireland, and one of the most accessible with it being just a two-hour drive from Dublin or a four-hour direct ferry crossing from Pembroke in South Wales.

Home to one of Europe’s most prestigious annual opera festivals, the port has long since moved just down the road to the tiny village of Rosslare.

But the main drag of Wexford town, looking out over the wide expanse of the River Slaney, still has a breezy, open, maritime feel to it.

And just like all the best dock towns, there’s no shortage of outstanding, character-filled pubs.

The Sky And The Ground has an interior that made me never want to enter the doors of an English chain boozer ever again.

It has dark, wooden-panelled walls, ancient framed advertisements for defunct cigarette and whisky brands, tiny snugs and booths to hide in plus superb, live traditional music.

It’s the kind of dream pub that also serves the most exceptionally well-stored and poured pint of Guinness I’ve ever had in Ireland.

Wexford’s rich history goes back way further than the Guinness family, however.

Originally a Viking trading base, the town became an English garrison where loyalty to the monarchy meant there were huge battles against Cromwell’s troops in 1649, a consequence of which was the destruction of Selskar Abbey.

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Walking around its creepy ruins, I learn about the melancholy tale of Alexander de la Roche.

The founder of the abbey, Alexander went off to fight in the Crusades.

His fiancée, after hearing the news of his death, became a nun — but he returned alive, only to find his partner in a habit, and he subsequently became a monk.

The chill of the abbey ruins made me hanker for some warm respite, which I found in the Talbot hotel on the old quayside.

The modish, modern building steers clear of contemporary blandness with a huge indoor pool, a grand bar and dining room and bedrooms in warm tones of cream and purple.

Vintage funk and soul

I spent the evening burrowing down the tiny alleys and narrow lanes of Wexford’s medieval streets until I stumbled across Ten West Bistro, a popular high-end brasserie serving Irish- accented comfort food with a lick of sophistication.

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A deep, crusty and unctuous guinea fowl pot pie was the ideal winter warmer.

Downstairs, the bar plays vintage funk and soul while serving up some impressively well-made Manhattans and Old Fashioneds using Irish whiskies instead of bourbon.

It’s been many a year since actual bull baiting took place in Wexford’s Bull Ring (in those days the mayor received the bull’s hide and the meat was given to the town’s poor).

But I was intrigued to visit the place to gaze at the huge statue of a “pikeman” — a solider armed with, yes, a giant pike stick — that looks out over the Slaney.

It was also the location for one of JFK’s final overseas visits. Just five months before his assassination.

He popped into the town that the Kennedys originated from.

It was another Wexford man, Commodore John Barry, who was one of the founders of the United States Navy, so it was perhaps appropriate that one of the tragic President’s final visits was to see the land of his forefathers.

Gazing out over the gentle hills as the river lazily laps against the shore, I wonder if John and Jacqueline paid a visit to the Sky And The Ground for a Guinness.

If they had, perhaps they might have stayed longer in one of the most charming coastal corners in Ireland.