A Love Letter to Motorway Service Stations
By Charlotte Harris
I don’t know about you, but I’ve always loved that feeling of being in between destinations, of being neither here nor there. Train carriages, airport lounges, bus stops … sitting in these places gives you a sense of motion and productivity whilst also inviting you to stop and relax while you watch the world going by.
The best place for this sort of forced relaxation is, to me, the humble motorway service station. Any trip down the motorway is made infinitely better when you spot a sign ahead advertising a loo stop, a leg stretch, and a coffee just one mile in the distance. Oh, and maybe a burger and chips too if you’re feeling hungry. What a treat! Calories don’t count when you’re traveling somehow.
Of course, to many people service stations are just another mundane part of life. Soulless little buildings with stinky facilities and grotty food served up by greedy corporations. But if you look around, I think you’ll find that service stations contain fascinating cross-sections of modern Britain. In the car park, for instance, you’ll see a bickering family of six return from a week-long holiday in their much too small campervan. A group of lorry drivers chat over cigarettes around a bin, and in the dining area Stag and Hen dos laugh maniacally in ridiculous outfits. Just across the foyer, an old married couple are looking with great confusion at the Greggs counter. Life is happening everywhere, with everyone on their way to or from, tired and excited, brought together by the basic human need for a wee and some sustenance. I think it’s all rather romantic.
Speaking of basic human needs, did you know that there’s specific government policy that all service stations must comply with? Motorway services must provide two hours of free parking, free toilets with no obligation to make a purchase, baby-changing and breastfeeding facilities, and hot food and drinks twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week. Failure to meet these requirements could lead to a service station being denied their access to the motorway by the Highways Agency. Your right to have a rest is protected in policy. That makes me feel oddly patriotic.
Do you have a favourite services? Many of us love the fancy Westmoreland ones - Tebay for Northerners and Gloucester for Southerners - but for some it’ll be the mysterious Leigh Delamare - a strange cultural meeting point for fans of Jasper Fforde and Gavin and Stacey. I think for most of us, however, our favourite service station is the one that we have the best connotations with. Mine is without a doubt Michaelwood on the M5. It’s clean, it’s got everything a girl could want, and it doesn’t require me to take the fifth exit at the largest roundabout on the planet to get to it.
Perhaps my favourite thing about service stations is that they hold no expectations of the motorists who use them. What other public spaces can you think of where you’re allowed to simply exist, without being expected to spend money or to move on within ten minutes? I can think of just two others: parks and libraries. Whether you’re arriving in the latest sports car or in an ancient three-door hatchback, whether you’re on urgent business or just out for a jolly: the trusty service stations will always welcome you to join their loo queues and eat their fat and sodium-rich food. Motorway services are truly here to serve all, and for that I think they deserve a little love.
