The scariest parts of horror films always happen in daylight, maybe even on a warm summer’s day with insects hopping across waving hay fields and a haze on the horizon. A time when you least expect the boogieman to creep up behind you and whisper in your ear. These were the conditions when I first laid eyes on Loftus Hall. It stands imposing and grey on the Hook Head landscape with a seemingly never-ending driveway — not a lush elm-lined avenue but a road abutted by scrub and hedges and trees that grow with the wind off the sea, at a 45-degree angle.
I was eight or nine and on the annual family summer holiday — sometimes in Wexford, sometimes in Cork, one time in Leitrim. My dad pulled the car up at the side of the road and as I peered at this mansion, squinting in the sunlight, he told us something horrifying. Hundreds of years ago (sometime in the 1770s according to legend) on a stormy night a mysterious stranger asked for shelter. He was welcomed in and began to play a game of cards with the occupants. The daughter of the house dropped a card and when she bent down to retrieve it saw that the mystery man had, dah dah daaaaah, a cloven hoof! Upon being discovered the man — obviously the divil himself — shot through the ceiling in a blaze of fire and smoke. The daughter took ill and lived a life of misery and agony. They even got an exorcist in. To this day, the hole in the ceiling remains even though the house had been rebuilt from the ground up.
I dearly wished my father had never damned me with the knowledge of the cloven hoof
Well, I was horrified. I remember imagining the scene taking place around a tiny round table with these poor innocent peoples’ knees touching off this monster’s hairy trotters. I would lay in my bed back at home thinking about this cursed bloody house in Wexford. I dearly wished my father had never damned me with the knowledge of the cloven hoof. I probably only started to get over it when the next terrifying notion came along to haunt my dreams (I believe it was a schoolyard story about saying the Hail Mary three times in the girl’s bathroom mirror and seeing the devil in your reflection. He was really getting around, that devil).
Growing up and into adulthood, I learned that I wasn’t the only one who had been terrorised by the lore of Loftus Hall. It was actually the holder of the excellent title of “Ireland’s most haunted house”. Everyone had stories about ghosts of little girls appearing in windows and the hole in the ceiling reappearing no matter how much plastering and painting was done. I wonder then as the mansion’s newest owners renovate the place to turn it into a luxury hotel, how they’re getting on with that pesky roof. Loftus Hall was bought by the Press Up hospitality group last year. Press Up has already made its mark across Dublin city with pubs and hotels popping up left, right and centre. They have a couple of recognisable styles across the brand; either all green velvet, brass fittings and muted, retro light fixtures or mock-pub-hardware-funeral-parlour vibes.
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Initially, I thought it was an inspired purchase. Surely, they’ll lean into the legend, I thought
They love a dividing shelving unit in a hotel lobby and live for an antique stuffed pheasant where appropriate. Anecdotally, chat about Press Up’s large portfolio is met with an eye roll as one enjoys a cocktail in their latest acquisition. That’s why their purchase of Loftus Hall with ambitions to turn it into a hotel caught my attention.
Initially, I thought it was an inspired purchase. Surely, they’ll lean into the legend, I thought. Surely the scorched ceiling will be a focal point of a beautiful bar. Maybe the bedroom of Anne Loftus, the daughter who spied the cloven hoof, will be the most sought-after booking. At the very least there’ll have to be a devil’s snug or a “haunted” card room. Early reports are damping down my hope though. First, the name is being changed to Ladyville House. Blah! Why wouldn’t you retain the most iconic address in the country? Second, there’s no mention yet of any shrine to the holey ceiling. An own goal if ever I saw one.
It is good news that the building is being renovated, of course. I took a slightly demented Halloween tour there a few years ago and while the spooky factor was high, much of the house was in a sorry state. And maybe there isn’t great money in the haunted hotel trade, but “I’m going to Loftus Hall for the weekend” has such an incredible ring to it. Reports of an outdoor pool, a stunning terrace and 22 luxury bedrooms are all very tempting, I will admit. I just think they’ll be missing a trick without at least a glass floor revealing a few haunted foundations or a Hoofy Wallbanger cocktail. It’s what the divil would have wanted.