Asleep at the wheel?

Asleep at the wheel?

When Luke Dennis is travelling, a lack of prominent branding can evoke a feeling of calm.


Driving northbound out of Birmingham on the M42, there are two possibilities: NORTH EAST (M1) or NORTH WEST (M6 Toll). Confusingly, the sign for the north east points to the left (more or less due north west in my head), and the sign for the north west points right (almost directly north east). And the next signposted destination is East Midlands Airport, which isn’t in the north at all…

Dealing with this kind of mental gymnastics is not unique. For a roving film producer travelling tens of thousands of miles a year on the UK motorway network, every journey feels packed with signs, directions, warnings, seatbelt alarms, queues and speed cameras; a heady mix of cognitive overload and persistent irritation.

So I am always grateful for a familiar oasis on the M5. The legendary Gloucester Services.

This a motorway service area like (nearly) no other, with a well-stocked farm shop and scratch-cooked kitchen. It welcomes pets and is designed in such an eco-friendly and attractive way that you may not wish to stop there if you are short on time.

Opened in 2014, it’s jointly owned by the Westmorland Family and a community interest charity that makes and keeps profits in the local economy. As one of only three Farmshop & Kitchens in the country, it’s part of a small network with a similar vision.

With its buildings nestling at the edge of the Cotswolds, it’s more timber and glass than neon and LED. The lack of heavy branding can make the approach feel like some uncanny valley, as if you’re driving to a massive wooden toy filling station where “petrol” is the only word you need to see.

This gentle branding continues from the carriageway, where Gloucester Services is represented by the simple image of a fat pig, sitting proudly half a mile from the entrance. This pig represents an escape from the branded structure of the motorway torture machine. This pig promises the (welcome?) break you really want to take.

Gloucester Services is countryside-coded, with its rustic bakery smells and locally sourced meats. It can also feel expensive, but motorway services are always expensive. It is a place for people who will pay more and travel further to experience good food in a well-designed environment.

But for me, its chief selling point isn’t what’s for sale, it’s the sense of sanctuary.

Gloucester Services feels calm, at the times when you need it, even on a busy August Bank Holiday weekend when every Cornwall-bound holidaymaker has stopped for a sausage roll.

A typical service station experience is a lesson in over-stimulation, a branded clutter of awkward bedfellows, a series of logos only together because they have to be. The four-bay black leather massage chairs. The phone accessory stores bereft of custom. The game zones. The sticky floors and the smell of effluent and food waste in the air.

I think it says something about us that we’ve allowed this to happen, as a nation and a marketing industry. We’ve fallen asleep at the wheel, promoting convenience and commerce over the real needs of the long-distance driver. A rest stop should be restful, revitalising, a sojourn to look forward to, a chance to ingest something wholesome, take some fresh air and get back into the driving seat ready for the next leg.

Of course, Gloucester Services is not perfect. Recently, I noticed slightly clunky Order and Pay screens in the coffee area; they might help cut the queues, but I’m not sure they enhance the experience.

And that Farmshop & Kitchen brand name feels a bit more prevalent than it used to be, as if Gloucester Services didn’t mean enough on its own.

It still feels a long way from black plastic massage chairs and a room full of slot machines, but I hope it’s not a sign it is moving away from the simple pleasures of pastry and peace.

Next up in Edition #11

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