To the manor born
To the manor born
Harry Mount visits the grand houses of Ireland’s Georgian past
The days of lukewarm leftovers and a bed shared with his lordship’s cat have long gone from Irish country-house hotels. A combination of the rampant Celtic Tiger economy and the exacting standards of the American tourist means that high lux is now the order of the day, not least at Glin castle.
This impossibly romantic crenellated cardboard cut-out of a castle perches by the River Shannon on a finger of land pointing from Ireland’s south-western corner towards America. It’s an exposed spot but the winds off the Atlantic don’t penetrate the castle’s robust walls. The bedroom and bathroom — which, with its elegant bow window, was the size of a football penalty area — were as warm as the soda bread toast at breakfast.
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