I MIGHT have mentioned previously that at the end of August, my family and I drove the length of the country to Scotland. It’s 534 miles from Truro to Edinburgh. That’s a proper schlep and a lot of time on the road, most of it motorway: M5, M6, M74, M8. It’s tiring, and when you need a break, you have the dubious delight of the motorway services.

Sadly, what should be the source of a comfort break designed to rest and refresh one back to a roadworthy state has been reduced to a temple of Mammon, carefully crafted to strip its captive audience of large chunks of cash.

These hubs are largely identical, home to a limited number of big brands: McDonalds, KFC, Burger King, WH Smith (its travel branches still bearing their original historic branding, as opposed to the ridiculous name concocted for the high street stores by their new owner, which is fooling no one). You might find an M&S or a Waitrose if you’re lucky.

Don’t get me wrong – I love a McDonald’s as much as the next person. Well, almost. It’s an irregular albeit dirty pleasure. But it’s a bit soul-destroying when that’s all there is, on repeat every 25 miles.

More often than not, you will have to walk through this dismal marketplace to get to the toilets, because kerching beats the need to wee. At one desolate destination, even the slot machines were given a more prominent space than more basic needs.

As a woman of a certain age, I’d like to point out that after a lengthy journey, I’m more desperate to spend a penny than any other amount on an overpriced cushion shaped like a Highland cow.

The nadir of our latest journey was Scotch Corner on the A1M. At 9pm on a Friday evening, we were practically the only people there – perhaps those in the know were having a party in a better place – and there was a sense of the staff having lost the will to live after a shift in this litter-strewn hellhole.

It’s a world away from the French system of “aires de service”, a network of motorway stops enabling weary travellers to rest awhile and eat their own food - which, being French, has been prepared with love, skill and imagination. These laybys are frequent on motorways, offering overnight parking for motorhomes and campervans (strictly verboten in the UK), with access to basic facilities like water, waste disposal and showers. Some have the most fantastic food halls. The catch: you can’t book in advance, so you have to rock up and hope for the best.

There is a glimmer of hope in the UK, thanks to the famous farmshop services, launched in Cumbria and now including a branch in Gloucester. I make a point of stopping there because it epitomises what I feel a good motorway service should be, and deserves my custom as a result.

It’s a place to recharge your batteries so you’re safer on the road as opposed to simply lighter of pocket. You can stretch your legs with countryside views, and the shop is stocked to the rafters with toothsome local produce.

As for eating, you can choose between quality food, delivered fast and ordered using the touchscreens beloved of McDonald’s, or a decent selection of hot, freshly cooked meals in the delightfully old-fashioned canteen.

We used to have places like this on the A30 in Cornwall. Remember how Kingsley Village started out in 2005 as a Cornish food and craft hall, only to be replaced barely 15 years by an identikit retail park featuring major retailers like M&S, Mountain Warehouse and Next?

Similarly, Cornwall Services opened in 2014 full of promise to focus on local businesses, but is now dominated by McDonald’s, Costa, Taco Bell, Greggs and Costa. Presumably these generate more revenue than the principles of good, fresh, local food.

I recommend visitors get off the beaten track and refresh themselves, for example, at the Great Cornish Food Store on the outskirts of Truro. Its café serves great food, and you can even buy some to take with you to your self-catering apartment.

In spite of all this griping, as a fan of modern architecture, I was ridiculously excited to discover Lancaster Moto (northbound) on the M6. Formerly known as Forton services, it’s home to The Pennine Tower, a hexagonal concrete construction built in 1965 to resemble an air traffic control tower and house an upmarket restaurant and sun deck.

Sadly, it closed in 1989 due to updated fire regulations - there is no alternative exit from the restaurant deck in an emergency, apart from abseiling, one assumes. But it was good to see that Moto remains proud of its local landmark, and visitors can even pick up free postcards. Mine is going on the fridge.