THE RED ROOM is blessed with the most stunning views of the lake. The four poster bed and other furniture came from Peruggia in Italy, except for the noble French `armoire' cupboard. It is an intensely family room. The bed is a doorway in and out of this life. Born in and died in. All very peacefully. Anita Leslie King gave birth to her daughter Leonie here.
It was by this chest of drawers in 1914 that Norman Leslie was seen by Lady Marjorie Leslie a few weeks after he been killed on the battlefields of France. He appeared as if in a cloud of light, reading through some of his letters, as if he was seeking one in particular. Lady Marjorie sat up in bed with a start, and said, `Why Norman - what are you doing here?'
He simply turned to her and smiled, then faded away. So did the light.
Lady Marjorie, Sammy's grandmother, held court and received visitors here in the Red Room until her death in 1951. At the very moment of her departure she appeared in our London flat where little Sean, then a baby, was dying of a poisoned mastoid. She came up the corridor in a gust of wind touched Sean, who suddenly said, "Pain gone." He was perfectly cured.
About the same time, Desmond's mother in law, Emmy, had a vision of Marjorie pointing across the lake to a fantastic palace glowing in the sky. Marjorie said to her: `Look where I am going to live now.'
Sammy's parents Helen and Desmond made this their bedroom, and little Sammy, with her even tinier sister Milly, used to wake them up in the morning by using them as a trampoline, before refusing to go to the village school which in those days only taught knitting catechism and Irish.
The huge panelled bath is the first bath ever to be installed in Ireland. For many years it was hardly more than a show piece. Amazed visitors were shown how it worked, and might even be allowed to turn the huge taps on and off. Only children, doggies, and servants actually took baths in it.
The tub is so deep that climbing out can be difficult. But it is a lovely place for a couple to relax in while taking their evening drink. This was Helen and Desmond's favourite treat when they came in cold and wet from riding.
The Epic Loo is entirely Sammy's invention and design. To sit thereon, flushed with pride, makes one feel one is dispensing royal business, rather than disposing of something more prozac. Perhaps each sheet of paper should bear a royal signature.
W B Yeates the poet used this room. So did numerous ambassadors to Dublin. I seem to remember Sir John Benjamin staying here during the last war while he was culturally attached to the British Embassy in Dublin. He thought that Glaslough's little camp-gothic railway station (now closed, alas) the prettiest station in the world.
The French ambassador and his wife, M. et Mme. Guerlet, fared less well. They were assigned to the Red Room when practical jokes were in vogue. Gongs ran as they tried to open their door. When they turned on their bedside lights loud motor horns blew. A wooden hand cunningly concealed between the two massive piles of pillows, remained hidden until the weight of heads pressed the pillows down, and a gruesome grey hand would seem to arise between them. Excellent for cementing good diplomatic relations.
Our worst, horrid-child trick, was a full-sized dummy witch, mounted on roller skates. A string attached her to the bath door, so that when it was opened, the witch would shoot out waving her broomstick. Poor Mrs McEntee, wife of Sean McEnteee who'd survived the GPO in 1916, fainted clean away.
However, without assistance from children, the Red Room is a very pleasant room in which to conduct pleasant activities.