Forget fish and chips, these much maligned pitstops are one of our country’s greatest achievements.
It’s no secret that coronavirus has prompted a boom in staycations, with companies reporting a 233 percent increase in UK holiday bookings compared with the same period last year. And while hundreds of cars start whizzing down Britain’s roads stuffed with panting dogs, underused bicycles and overpriced Kaftans, the great service stations of our country have swung open their doors and risen to the occasion too.
Forget fish and chips, The Beatles and Clifton Suspension Bridge, these under-appreciated and much maligned pitstops are one of our country’s greatest achievements and it’s time we took a moment to appreciate them.
The lawlessness of these giant greenhouses is … incredibly liberating. – Katya Edwards
The first service station opened sixty years ago in Britain on a little patch of land where the south-east ends and the Midlands begins (depending where you’re coming from). The Watford Gap service station, squeezed between two hills and squished in next to a river, became a refuge for those looking for a cuppa, a snack and a place for a car to cool off. But the service station has come a long way since then.
And it’s not just the respite from the long drives and the “Are We Nearly There Yets?” that makes these souped-up petrol stations a place of undiluted joy. The lawlessness of these giant greenhouses is also incredibly liberating. Where else do you feel not only comfortable but proud ordering a Big Mac at 11 in the morning? Is there anywhere else on earth that you could buy an extra-large sugar-free Red Bull and a family bag of fruit pastels and feel no shame at all? And most perversely of all, can you imagine another time in your life that you would even consider buying a chewable toothbrush?
Where else do you feel not only comfortable but proud ordering a Big Mac at 11 in the morning? – Katya Edwards
Not only that but the service station is a great leveller. Truck drivers who’ve been up all night, organic yoga mummies and teenage boy racers – if you’ve ever been in a car, the chances are you’ve been to a service station. Is there not something both humbling and joyful about the fact that we’ve all at some point in our lives eaten some sad chicken nuggets in a big concrete dome?
Then there is the pride we have in the service station and loyalty to one particular station can be fierce. For instance, people talk often of the merits of Reading but if I am cruising down the M4 I am devoted to Heston – In fact, I plan petrol consumption and arrival time around this particular pitstop. It’s hard to talk about the West Country without mentioning Gloucester Services – the motorway farm shop that people pilgrimage to, which seems to have created a whole new class of service station. And don’t get me started on House of Bruar, the Scottish service station which the Celts deem a decent rival to Harrods.
So, while the French Riviera, Greek tavernas and Italian lakes might be off limits for the time being, let us at least be thankful that when we’re driving to the Cornish coast or the Norfolk Broads this summer, we’ve got these British gemstones.
I’d take an elegant Ham and Cheese baguette from a Little Waitrose on the M1 over a sweaty Croque Monsieur from an Easy Jet Microwave any day.
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