Mary Gostelow flies into Shannon for a west-of-Ireland castle experience

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Start planning now for a mid-2021 trip to the west of Ireland. Fly into Shannon, 14 kilometres from the The Dromoland Castle Golf and Country Club – a Preferred Legend hotel near Newmarket-on-Fergus, in County Clare.

As soon as the car turns into the estate’s 67 hectares you feel like a landowner of yore. This is what the owners, the O’Brien family, must have felt when the dark grey stone building was finished 1836, by the Pain brothers architects. This is actually what Mark Nolan, the hotel’s 31-year tenure MD, feels today, especially since he is one of the 25 owners who comprise Dromoland Castle Holdings (all the others are Americans).

I love the way this 98-bedoom castle-hotel really does fit a preconceived image of what a medieval fortress might have been like. The intimate lobby is guarded by two suits of armour (who wore them, one wonders?). The interior of the sprawling building is a network of impressive rooms connected by narrow metre-wide corridors, going through quite a lot of right angles. And there are stairs, lots of them, not all shallow. Imagine all those O’Briens trying to find each other.

I sat looking at an O’Brien of former days, or at least a portrait of him, during dinner in the Earl of Thomond Restaurant. This is a truly memorable eating place, with high brocade-covered walls rising to the tall ceiling from which hang priceless Waterford crystal chandeliers that require cherry-pickers every six months for professional cleaning. Dine here for traditional finesse. Place settings, on the starched white cloths, include fish knives and forks, and soup spoons. The printed menu lists 27 suppliers, including Gourmet Game from County Clare, who were responsible for my venison, sandwiched, course-wise, between a pointillist-style tuna starter and a mascarpone mousse ball wrapped in a raspberry glaze.

Not wanting to have night turn-down, I found, nonetheless, that someone had put on my bedroom door a hotel carry bag holding a note inviting me to call if I wanted service, plus a room service door knob menu, Burren chocolates and a glass bottle of water. I was in corner room #304, the Keightley Stateroom, and it was really comfortable, in Irish hues of taupe through to brown moss, and standing Celtic sculptures – design is a blend from Dorothy Draper, Carole Roberts and Carleton Varney. A modern four-poster bed cleverly had a taupe leather panel at its foot, which provided vertical protection when putting suitcases on a matching taupe leather footstall. I had an espresso machine, not an Irish commonplace, and an electric towel rail.

Yes, it rains a lot in Ireland and I must admit I was still shivering half an hour after first arriving, but the spa whisked me down for a hot basalt stone massage, which restored my equilibrium. Obviously the golf courses here are regular therapy for many locals, who do love this place – I had the good luck at dinner to sit near a family party of 12 and it was heartening to see how the pre-teens, all dressed up for their special dinner, were enjoying the experience. This is a luxury hotel that is loved by Irish people, always a good sign.

In the morning, nothing seemed to move until 8am, starting time both for the gym and indoor pool – I had compensated by having a hearty walk – and breakfast. This was another classic Irish experience, with linen napkins folded as standing fans, and butter shapes in tringles, and diagonals of toast in a silver rack wrapped in tissue. Glenliven yoghurts came from Alan and Valerie Kingston’s farm in West Cork, and a house omelette was brought with Hegarty’s Cheddar and Limerick ham. Sir Edward O’Brien, probably painted in the mid-18th century, gazed down at me as if to say, look, the sun has come out. This was good news for golfers, heading for the par-72 18-hole course by Ron Kirby and J.B. Carr. You can also run or jog the grounds, or cycle, or take a pony-and-trap experiences. I saw other guests heading for archery, falconry and fishing lessons, or for clay pigeon shooting or tennis. You do feel like a lord, or lady, of the castle, staying here.

Mary Gostelow’s travelogue is www.girlahead.com

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