MELOSINA LENOX-CONYNGHAMdidn't relish the prospect of attending an over 55s festival in Westport. She needn't have worried – she had the time of her life
THOUGH I HAVE white hair, a travel pass and nobody whistles at me from building sites, (could this be because of the recession?) – I am NOT an oldie – never – so it was with a certain lack of enthusiasm that Peter Pan set off to attend the Golden Years Festival in Westport in Co Mayo.
Arriving in Westport, I realised that the town was so pretty that whatever my qualms, here was somewhere I would enjoy. William Makepeace Thackeray, the English novelist, wrote in 1842: “It forms an event in one’s life to have seen that place so beautiful that is it . . . if it were on the Mediterranean or Baltic, English travellers would flock to it by hundreds.” In the last 168 years, the town centre has not changed that much and is still as charming.
The “festival” was five nights with dinner, bed and breakfast included, at a remarkably price for those of us over 55. It took place in two hotels, the Castlecourt Hotel and the Westport Plaza. The hotels, which are beside each other, are in the centre of the town. They share the same pool and the same owners, but have a slightly different price range.
The second real pleasure were the staff of both hotels, who were helpful, genuinely friendly and were not at all upset when I lost my door card twice and got my bank card, which I had tried to use by mistake, stuck in the door lock, during the first hour of my arrival.
When talking with my fellow guests, they told me spontaneously how much they appreciated the service and a couple who had spent several holidays here, said that the specific attraction of the Castlecourt for them, was being looked on as an old friend. “Doesn’t everyone like to be remembered?”
The two hotels absorbed us; there were never crowds of ancients getting our zimmer frames stuck in doorways. Actually many of the other guests were younger – a lot younger and spryer than me.
For meals one sat at separate tables and ordered dinner off a comprehensive three-course menu, so that there was no need for any false bonhomie. But I usually found myself talking to my neighbours at the next table and therefore met a philatelist, a genealogist and a lady who was an expert on old Irish. Until then, I never knew that ancient Irish is almost a separate language.
DURING MYstay, I had intended to be a new, lithe me by doing several lengths of the pool every day. I did ask in a bossy way at what time it was opened in the morning, but alas for good intentions, the call of bacon and eggs, sausages and black pudding was stronger than any aspiration to cleave through the water.
A lot of folk went off on bus tours every day to places such as Achill or Kylemore Abbey, some spent their days on the golf course or in the spa, but I stuck to the programme in the hotel.At 12.30 of a morning, I was learning ballroom dancing in the Walnut Suite. About a third of the guests were men, but none of them asked me to dance and how right they were, because I have two left feet and how ever much anyone says “one, two, three”, I am never where I should be and my partner who was somewhat shorter than me had a hard time steering me through the traffic. When we jived I was like a palm tree in a storm bending over her while she whirled around, but when it came to my turn the storm had done its damage. In the Paul Jones, a handsome gentleman claimed her and I retired to lick my wounds.
Every evening there was a band and the dance floor was crowded with those who were more accomplished than I at “tripping on the light fantastic- toe”. I retired to read the edifying, but rather uncompromising, selection of classics on the hotel shelves.
People were remarkably extrovert, especially for the Gold Factor competition, a talent contest, and from the eagerness that most of the participants sprang on the stage this was not their first time on the boards; some had brought their props with them. The line-up was heavily weighted with songs that yearned for either the return to a cabin with a half-door on the hillside or for the man who had departed with a dark-eyed beauty.
One act was performed by a solicitor from Donegal who was a very adroit magician, his handkerchiefs appeared in his hand in multiple form in a way that mine never do when I am about to sneeze. My favourite was a bespectacled gentleman in a cowboy hat who advised us that “This land is your land” (what about Nama?) while he cantered around and was joined on his imaginary horse by his wife.
I would have shone at bingo if my numbers had come up, but will draw a veil over my achievements at bridge. I do play bridge but only with close friends and family when my inadequacies have not been conspicuous – in fact I rather fancied myself, until my partner said, “Oh God!” when I led with the king of spades. God was invoked rather often in the next hour, but alas He did not stop me revoking on two occasions.
There was a cookery demonstration; a tour of Westport, with the special treat of visiting the wonderfully frescoed Protestant church. Here are also intricate stone carvings on the capitals, many of which incorporate a pelican, but on one there was a satisfied looking crocodile – perhaps he had eaten a pelican.
WESTPORT ISa delightful town. The main feature is the Carrowbeg River that has been channelled to flow picturesquely through the centre and is crossed by elegant bridges.
The venue for the advertised “country market” was in the boxing club, so the cabbages and fresh bread were surrounded by punch balls, gloves and helmets, but again everyone was so friendly that I found myself having coffee on the ropes with one of the stall holders while we discussed cake-making.
One morning I walked to the quay along the disused railway track, which has been turned into a 5km walk, a popular amenity that will be even better if plans to turn it into a linear orchard come to fruition. Two ladies I met said they walked here everyday picking up the rubbish along their part of the track – if only others were so public minded. I could have made it a circular walk by returning through the park at Westport House, but I did not realise that this was possible.
An afternoon spent in the spa was a luxurious indulgence, from scrubbing my feet in the salt grotto, to choosing whether I would rather have a shower with the smell of the wild Atlantic or more sensually, the Mediterranean – (not, I think, the Med near Naples). Having a back, neck and shoulder massage made me long for a win on the lotto, so that I can be right up there with Posh and Becks employing someone to massage me everyday.
The only time I was in danger was when I sank into my Jacuzzi bath, having poured in all the unguents I had found on the shelf. I lay back imagining myself as Marilyn Monroe being filmed in her bathtub. I was wishing I had had the forethought to order a glass of champagne when I found that the bubbles were rising round me; they covered my mouth and then my nose while I fumbled for the button to turn off the Jacuzzi.
“Life,” said the poet, “is mostly froth and bubble”, but what about death? To be smothered in a bubble bath, would certainly be sensational – by this time the bubbles were all over the bathroom and I was about to fight my way through the foam to where I thought the door was, when I found the switch and the bubble bath subsided. So I live to come on another Golden Years holiday.
What I enjoyed most in those few days, were the other guests. They came from all over Ireland, though the majority were from Dublin from which there was a convenient train. They could jive, sing and play the drums with the best and they were interesting, amusing and some I will keep in touch with.
From now on, I am out with my banner, reading: “Down with Ageism!!”
Melosina Lenox-Conyngham was a guest of the Westport Plaza and Castle Court Hotel, westportplazahotel.ie and castle courthotel.ie
Going for Golden . . .
- The next Golden Years Festival takes place from Sunday to Friday, September 26th-October 1st.
- The Castlecourt (098-55088, castlecourt hotel.ie) costs €325pps with a €15 single supplement. The Westport Plaza (098-51166, westportplazahotel.ie) costs €365pps with a €20 single supplement. These prices include five nights BB and four dinners.
- Throughout the year, there are several themed Golden Years breaks. Activities include bowling, bridge, dancing, golf and painting.