Today every B and B seems to carry on its notice board the magic words en suite, meaning, of course, that you've bedroom, lavatory, bathroom or shower all in one series. A letter unearthed by a friend from correspondence with older relatives, reminds us how, in the not so distant past, this was not a feature of even some of the best hotels. `Royal Suites' or `Presidential Suites', maybe, apart.
The writer recalls a wartime journey to the south by a couple, the ultimate aim being Waterville, Co Kerry. Depart from the then Dublin Kingsbridge by train at about nine o'clock in the morning. Turf fuelled the express, and so there were frequent, and long, stops where the engines had to be cleaned out. Finally, the travellers arrived at a southern hotel, one of the best, after dark.
Now, as this was mid July, the hour would have been about eleven o'clock, near midnight. Nevertheless, the hotel, used to wartime exigencies, had all ready for the guests. First thing wanted was a bath. The chambermaid, long black skirts in the then uniform, said "certainly. That's a shilling extra, and two shillings if both of you want a bath." In, no time the wife was luxuriating, or at least unstiffening limbs, in a big, steaming bath, located at the end of a long corridor from the bedroom. Then the husband, the bath having been emptied and refilled. The second shilling. Lovely room, excellent food at what must have by then been midnight. How to get to Waterville, quite a distance away, the next morning was no problem to the hotelier. He had arranged that the couple, their baggage, and their indispensable in wartime bicycles should go on the post van next morning. And so it was, and the couple were duly delivered to the excellent, solicitous care of the Huggards at the Butler Arms in Waterville. And all those lovely white trout spread out in the hall at night when the anglers came in to dinner.
The journey home is not recorded, but from memory, our friend thinks that it was via Limerick.