I never visited Carlow on my original trip. It is only one hour's drive away from Wexford, where I have spent many months living over the years. And I probably wouldn't have visited Carlow if it hadn't been for the Eigse Arts Festival.

I decided this would be a good opportunity to promote my book. So I rolled into town in the Scooby Van and went off in search of the Otterholt Riverside Hostel. As you approach the hostel on the road, the front looks shoddy and very unwelcoming. Being accustomed to staying in shoddy hostels over the years this didn't really put me off.

However, as I turned into the car park and made my way through the gates and into the hostel's gardens I soon discovered that this place was far from shoddy. The rear of the house was in far better condition, the large garden was impeccably maintained and the beautiful River Barrow ran through the adjacent field. A small sign on the grass bore the words:

Welcome to Otterholt

I drove on to the small parking area by the entrance to reception and found a space amongst the array of large white antique Rolls Royce and Bentley cars. It turned out that one of the owners, two brothers, rents them for weddings.

At the door I was greeted by an aging Scotsman called Ian. Ian not only shared my name but also my love for riding motorcycles. Even at his age he still rode one. I suddenly had a glimpse of myself as an old man, working in a hostel, still riding a motorbike, and with only twenty Euros to last me all week. Even though Ian only had twenty Euros, he still bought a copy of my book; although I did give him a special discount.

The other guy working in the hostel was Brendan. Brendan offered to sell my book to the tourists as they came through. He refused my offer of commission and said that I could buy him a drink instead. The drinks were provided for him and myself on a night out in the town a few days later. Brendan reminded me of a friend back home. Well his face did anyway. He had large, round, bright blue eyes on a permanently grinning face, and ears that Mickey Mouse would be proud to own.

Due to spending my days in the shopping area of Tullow Street trying to promote my book and give out flyers, I didn't get much of a chance to look around. But after my morning on local radio I decided to search the town for just what there was to see here.

Just beyond Tullow street I found the ruins of an old castle. There wasn't much left of it, just the front wall flanked by two towers. The guidebook explained that the castle was built by William Marshall in the twelfth century. The castle had survived Cromwell's attentions, but the reason for its condition now was due to a Dr Middleton having turned it into an asylum and then blown it up in 1814. He must have been a relative. He certainly fits the profile.

I wandered on and crossed the river. To the left was the Barrow Way, which took me on a nice scenic walk along the river itself. In 1798 640 United Irish rebels were killed in the bloodiest fighting of the rising around what is now Tullow Street. Here the Irish rebellion was so fierce that the British officials once had to be paid danger money to live here among the native Irish. A Celtic High Cross marks the Croppie Grave, across the river from town, where most of the bodies were buried.

Carlow is small, and many might think that there isn't a whole lot to see around here. People had told me, 'Carlow is not a tourist town, it's more a college town.' But that is its charm, I think. It's an attractive, small and genuine Irish town with genuine friendly Irish people. In the street I had talked with many of the locals about my book, and one woman had even been so kind as to walk off with a handful of my flyers and give them out to people. The instant I mentioned that I was going to be on the radio the next day, the people would respond with, 'Ah that'll be Tom, now. He's very good.' I hadn't even mentioned who would be interviewing me.

Many people I've met complain that in small town Ireland everyone knows your business. But that's what I like about it, that sense of closeness. I also liked the fact that this town wasn't crawling with overweight tourists loaded down with ice creams, cameras and bored children. There really was a lot to see here. Mind you, now that I've written and raved about this town for all to read on the Internet, then people will start coming in crowds. The streets will swell in the summer with tourists. The calm and happy atmosphere will be destroyed and replaced with one of exasperation. The peaceful riverside walk with no longer be peaceful. Oh my god!! What have I done? Okay, listen here, Carlow is a horrible town. No, really it is. You don't want to go there and visit… promise me you wont…Please.

The Otterholt Riverside Hostel, Kilkenny Road. Tel: (0503) 30404.