Service stations. Whenever I enter them, I always feel like they'd be the ultimate zombie apocalyse horror movie setting. Yeah, Charlie Brooker was very creative with the whole Big Brother House thing, but come on - barricading yourself in a Welcome Break while you watch the ravenous undead bash uselessly against that neon plexiglass front and see that the only food supplies you have are the curled up, dehydrated fried eggs of the canteen and the ketchup sachets in the KFC? Haunting.
Anyway, my feelings were such when en route to Weston-Super-Mare, the BF and I stopped off at Michaelwood Services to refuel our car and ourselves. He took the safe option. With the Colonel's fried chicken, you know where you are. You know just how bad it is. There's little sense of surprise or disappointment. Myself, I hotfooted it to Starbucks, not for coffee, but for a panini. Mistake. Big mistake.
First of all, the plague of houseflies should have been a giveaway. Urgh, I swear I saw no less than six of the creatures. I struggled to see how people were happily sat at the tables eating within the same vicinity of the things. That was bad enough, but the staff were entirely disinterested in just about everything going on. I don't blame them, if I was stuck in a Starbucks at 8pm I'd probably be the same, however when the BF came over and reported that he'd just been served by literally the happiest woman in the world in KFC, I felt somewhat cheated.
This falafel panini. What in the name of heck WAS it? To be fair, the falafel wasn't all that bad, it was the fact that apart from a few leaves of wilted spinach and squashed tomatoes, that was it. It was dry. Drier than the Sahara Desert. Drier than James Bond's martini. Drier than wrapping yourself in a million towels and diving into the tumble drier dry. In essence I was eating a mixture of sand and cotton wool. Yummers! And I paid money for the privilege of doing so.
Yeuch. I'm going to avoid overpriced Starbucks paninis from now on. I'd have been better off sticking with the Wine Gums in the glove compartment. Refuel FAIL! read more