I‘d never slept in a turret before, and I’d always known that something had been missing from my life. Fortunately, Dromoland Castle in County Clare has now filled this gap. It was the former home of the O’Brien family, rulers of southern Ireland, who were, according to writer Frank O’ Connor, “the most civilized of all the great Irish families” (although considering their most famous member, Brian Boru, was killed during the Viking aggression in the 11th century, “civilized” is clearly a relative concept when it comes to Irish ruling dynasties). But from one great ruling family to another. Clearly the only person worthy to share this turret-sleeping experience with me was my mother. So off the Freeman ladies headed to recline in the former seat of the O’Briens. Like the rest of Britain, Ireland has hit upon a nifty old wheeze of how to generate yet more cash from its heritage — in this case, by turning castles into luxury hotels, such as Dromoland and its near neighbor Ashford Castle. However, with its country hotel-style decor and bedrooms the size of my entire flat, Dromoland must be one of the cosiest and yet still most luxurious.
We drove up the swooping, twisting and impressively long driveway, and when the castle suddenly revealed itself from behind the trees, I felt like Elizabeth Bennet approaching Mr Darcy’s estate, Pemberley, in Pride And Prejudice.
Being a bit of an Ireland virgin, I was determined not to expect any cliches, but, really, our taxi journey from the airport didn’t half make it difficult. The taxi driver, “call me Declan”, chatted merrily away about “the craic”, and the radio was tuned — and I swear this is true — to a reading of a Roddy Doyle book. I half-expected Enya to start crooning through the clouds that were, indeed, purple and dappled, stretching over the green hills. Sometimes you have to wonder if the Irish pay someone to lay on this stuff. Truly, the whole experience would have satisfied even Walt Disney’s dreams of celtic life. And, just maybe, that was the point. Despite its moodily medieval sounding name, Dromoland Castle, which was pulled down and rebuilt in the 19th century, looks more like Cinderella’s child-friendly palace in Walt Disney World than anything that might have once caused trouble for the Vikings.
The manicured gardens are filled with Mediterranean trees, the crenellated walls are topped, in a nice touch, with satellite dishes, proving that the hotel is there to satisfy all the needs of its visitors — historical accuracy is all very nice, but one does need Sky One in the evening, you know.
When we arrived at the hotel and sat down to a late supper, American accents (including, I’d better add, my own) bounced off the wood-paneled walls and oil paintings of Dromoland’s former kilted residents, while we dined on smoked salmon, local cheeses and water biscuits, and looked out on the lakes and hills. The waitresses were all ruddy cheeked, which was when I began to feel suspicious: had we fallen into a trap? Was this some twee, romanticised mini version of Ireland constructed for gullible foreigners to perpetuate their twee, romanticised dreams of life over the water? Goodness, had Declan been in on the plot, too? Well, all I can say is that if it is, then who cares? The staff were so universally charming, the castle so elegant, the food so delicious, that if this was a perpetuation of cliches, may all cliches be so perpetuated.
The six most charming words in the English language are not, “I love you, darling, marry me”, or even “closing down sale, everything must go”, but “all you can eat breakfast buffet”, and happily, those were precisely the words that greeted us on our first morning when we walked into the dining room. No other words would have persuaded us to forsake room service in our beguilingly lavish bedroom.
After stuffing ourselves with several helpings of fresh fruit, yoghurt, cheese and pastries, accompanied by our usual dining room soundtrack of American accents, we felt the need to shoot something. So out we headed to the front of the hotel to meet our shooting instructor for a spot of mid-morning target practice on clay pigeons.
On my first round, I shot little more than the open air. My mother, inevitably, annihilated the poor piece of clay on her first go. Happily for the sake of family unity, I more than redeemed myself later when we branched out into archery with the ever-patient Patsy: six bullseyes. Six. Bullseyes. Me.
After such triumphant demonstrations of athletic prowess, a rest was needed. So we strode back to our lovely castle to choose which of those four sitting rooms (you have to hand it to those old dynasties families — they certainly made sure they never lacked for a room in which to sit) in order to kill time before lunch. We were soon joined by our fellow Americans, who sat and read the Irish weather reports to each other: “Saturday — mostly cloudy; Sunday — cloudy with drizzle.”
The afternoon was spent in a slightly less traditional manner and one, perhaps, more true to our roots than our morning exertions: my mother snoozed in front of Sky News in our turret, and I opted for a Swedish massage (much needed after the shooting) and a pedicure in the hotel spa.
Admittedly, though, my glam factor was slightly diminished by the fact that my toenail polish wasn’t dry in time for our dinner reservations at the consistently overbooked hotel restaurant (head chef David McCann previously worked in Mirabelle and the Connaught Hotel in London, and the food here was fabulous).
Thus, not only did the hotel send a golf cart to pick me up from the spa (which is a short walk from the hotel) and whisk me to the hotel, thereby ensuring that my toes remained in perfect condition, but I had to turn up to the dining room in slippers with tissues between my toes. But let’s not dwell too long on personal humiliations.
Where to Live Like a Prince for Less
Castle Leslie, Co Monaghan
There are hundreds of castles, tower houses and stately homes in Ireland. And if you like them overpowering, regal and formal, you could well leave Castle Leslie disappointed. For starters, it doesn’t look like a traditional castle: no drawbridge, moat or turrets; and probably the most famous knight associated with it is Sir Paul McCartney, who married Heather Mills there last year. If, however, you like your castles to be homely, welcoming — with good food — and not a little eccentric, you’ll enjoy spending a couple of nights here just over the border from Northern Ireland.
Hidden from view behind the ‘famine wall’ in the village of Glaslough, the stately home lies in a 1,000 acres of rolling parkland with woods and three lakes. But all semblance of formality ends once you step over the threshold and into the oak-panelled hall. Reception and check-in are more of a chat over a pot of tea in the drawing room, which is a jumble of family portraits and objets d’art.
Later, when you’ve got settled, if you fancy a stroll, help yourselves to wellies, coats and hats hanging in the hall. And take the dogs out with you — they’ll enjoy the walk.
There are 14 rooms that also err on the side of eccentricity (no TVs, phones or clocks), and some would say on the side of shabby — a tear in the satin roof of the red four-poster bed, a cumulus of stuffing puffing out of a sofa. But this is original family furniture, after all. There’s no historic recreation going on, and that’s the fun in staying at Castle Leslie: rather than getting a facsimile of history, you are invited to share in it.
Belle Isle Castle, Co Fermanagh
The castle at Belle Isle Estate near Enniskillen is different again. This 17th-century mansion does have a tower and a moat of sorts — access to the 470-acre is via a bridge from the mainland, Fermanagh being Ireland’s Lake District, featuring 50 lakes dotted with 500 islands.
Rather than being transformed into a hotel, however, a wing of the castle has been renovated into luxury self-catering accommodation that can host up to 14 people. The entrance hall leads into an elegant drawing room in one direction, and the Grand Hall — a vast banqueting room with minstrel’s gallery — in the other, and there are eight bedrooms.
So far, so good. But what makes Belle Isle Castle an exceptional place to stay is the dramatic mix of antique and modern. Thus, country-house furniture is offset by the bold color schemes created by the late interior designer David Hicks (previous commissions: apartments for Helena Rubenstein and the Prince of Wales).
Blood-orange walls and a splash of bright tartan upholstery make it hard for the Northern Irish weather to dampen the spirits.
- Arab News Features 19 June 2003
