The Pleasures of the Motorway Services Station, (Part 1)

It seems a British tradition that if you're going on holiday you have to make a call to the motorway services station, they go together like beef and Yorkshire pudding. We've been there before and suffered but there is something about the service stations that draws you in, like flocks of seagulls at the local rubbish tip.

On entering the premises you always head from the toilets and part company from your beloved who enters into another secret world known only to the male species. You may have soft music playing in the background but fear the experience that is about to behold you.

The majority of cubicles are closed off with signs proclaiming they are being cleaned so you're left with 3 to choose from, the first has a large split seat and the remnants of the last visitor. The second has no seat at all so you go for the third that at first glances seems usable, how wrong can one be. It's too late you've entered before noticing there is no lock on the door or a hook for you to place your handbag on.

Now you have to position yourself so that you don't actually touch the seat, your bent forward with arm outstretched to keep the door closed and you have your handbag dangling around your neck hoping that your clothing haven't dropped into the swimming pool of a floor. After mastering all that you find as always there is no toilet paper, so still in the same position you rummage through the contents of the bag, the one that's still around your neck, to find a half used scrupled paper hanky.

Escaping you're not finished but are then confronted by the hand wash basins that either have scolding or cold water, the hand dryers don't know whether to stop or start, and you end up wiping your hands down your best attire. Heading out for fresh air, your confronted by the moron cleaner who decides to tell you their whole life story and how they have collect bus tickets. Finally reaching the outside world again, your clothes are wet, your hair is all over the place, thanks to your handbag, and all your partner can  say, with a very grumply expression, is, "WHAT KEPT YOU?"

Part 2 tomorrow - The cafe and shop.