One Night Away Was Great. But Hotels Are Not the Same Anymore.

My wife and I went away for a night, and it was lovely to have some time together. We really enjoyed the spa, room service, free wine in the lounge, and a fantastic breakfast and dinner.

The hotel itself was top drawer. We had a disabled room, which made access with the wheelchair very simple, and the disabled parking made everything easier too.

In almost every way, it was wonderful.

Except for one thing.

The hotel concept itself.

I used to love good hotels. Bad hotels I never liked. They can feel stale and unclean, food options are limited, and the walls can be so thin that you hear every dreadful noise from all directions.

In my years travelling the world, I used to genuinely love staying in good hotels. I travelled to the United States 76 times across 26 states, as well as extensively through Europe and Asia. Sometimes I was lucky enough to stay in some of the best hotels in the world, and I really appreciated the luxury, comfort, and escape they offered.

Occasionally, though, I ended up in some truly awful places. Once, I even found somebody else’s underwear in the bathroom.

This hotel, however, was excellent. I could not fault it.

But hotels are designed around the assumption that people sleep through the night.

When you wake up wide awake at 2am, your leg is in agony, and you need a wheelchair to get around the bedroom and bathroom without turning on the lights and waking your wife, the room suddenly feels very small.

At home, I have my specialised armchair. I know where everything is. I have routines, comforts, and ways of coping. In a hotel room, there is nowhere comfortable to sit for hours while time crawls painfully slowly through the night.

Then there was the Nespresso machine. At 3am it sounded less like a coffee machine and more like industrial roadworks. I was genuinely frightened to turn it on in case I woke half the hotel. Eventually, desperation for caffeine won.

You may wonder where my carer was. He stayed nearby with local family, and we felt that, between the two of us and the electric wheelchair with its remote control pad, we could manage the night ourselves. I even briefly returned to dangerously driving the chair again.

Yet again, the humble hot water bottle came to the rescue.

I also had a treatment at the hotel, but because of the pain in my legs I had to sit in the chair rather than lie on the bed. Doctor on Sunday.

The strange thing is that the trip really was wonderful. We loved the time together. The staff were excellent, the food was great, and for a short while we escaped normal life.

But experiences change when disability and pain become part of everyday living and I wouldn’t have been able to cope with a second night.

Luxury is no longer marble bathrooms, spa lounges, or complimentary wine.

Luxury is a chair that supports your legs properly. A familiar room. A quiet kettle. A hot water bottle. And somehow making it through the night.