Strensham Services

There’s a particular kind of hell reserved for motorway services, and Strensham on the M5 is as bleak a manifestation as any. My recent visit confirmed everything I’ve come to loathe about these dismal outposts of convenience, where travellers are offered little more than overpriced rubbish masquerading as food.

First up was an ersatz Japanese food outlet, its branding all lanterns and cherry blossoms, promising the exotic but delivering the utterly abysmal. What was being served could only be described as slop. The so-called chicken looked suspiciously reformed, with that unnatural rubbery sheen you get when meat has been blitzed and glued back together. The accompanying rice was a sticky, claggy mess, and the sauce had all the finesse of a tinned curry from a 1970s British Rail buffet. I'm surprised the Japanese Embassy doesn't sue them for misrepresentation of wholesome Japanese food.

Around the corner, the MacDonald's queue was snaking through the service area, a line of resigned faces shuffling forward in pursuit of Big Macs. The smell of fryer oil hung heavy in the air, mingling with the diesel fumes from parked lorries outside. It would have been comical if it weren’t so tragic.

Still holding out hope for real food, I ventured into the Spar concession, only to be greeted by a sad display of pre-packaged sandwiches. Each one looked like it had been slapped together in a rush, with pale bread and fillings that seemed to have been rationed. £4.78 for a limp cheese and pickle sandwich? Daylight robbery, dressed up as convenience. A bowl of fruit sat untouched on the shelf, as though even the passing trade recognised it was past its best.

And this is what we’re feeding people on their journeys? It’s no wonder we have a Type 2 diabetes crisis when services like these peddle processed junk as the default option. There wasn’t a fresh, wholesome meal in sight. Everything came in plastic, with more additives than ingredients.

Strensham is a monument to how far we’ve fallen. It’s not just about the lack of decent food, but the broader acceptance that this is all we deserve on the road. We’ve commodified the act of eating to the point where it’s stripped of all joy, leaving us with overpriced, nutritionally barren fare that’s barely fit for purpose.

I left with an empty stomach and a heavy heart, wondering how we’ve normalised such dismal standards in the pursuit of convenience. Is it too much to ask for a proper meal, or have we resigned ourselves to living in this beige, processed nightmare?

Contrast this with Gloucester Services, a mere 20 minutes further up the M5, which has built a reputation on selling "real" food from local suppliers. Yes, it’s refreshing to find a motorway stop that stocks actual bread, fresh fruit, and even artisanal cheeses. But there’s a catch - the prices are eye-watering. A loaf of sourdough will set you back the best part of a tenner, and a sausage roll comes with the sort of price tag you'd expect from a gastropub. It's as though they know you're trapped in a captive market and have decided to wring every last penny from you in the name of supporting local producers. Admirable ethos, sure, but when you’re charging £12 for a pie, it starts to feel like the farmers aren’t the only ones being milked.

There's no pleasing me, obviously.