One of the many proclivities my auntie the gourmand, my uncle the retired vicar and my mother have in common, apart from their parents, love of odd dogs and a tendency to pedantry around the written word, is their deeply felt, somewhat illogical love of Tebay Services. They idolise Tebay. Both north and south-bound. Wonderful Tebay. They can’t pass Tebay on the M6 and they can’t stop talking about Tebay. They even stay there. If one says one don’t venerate Tebay Services, or one raises the most minor qualm about say, it’s cheese and onion pies, a sinister elite committee (please note my aged relatives do not form part of this committee. Well, one of them may.) still fighting a class war but from the other side can instantly revoke your bourgeoisie membership card. Or so I believe.
Yet that was exactly the risk my infamous co-driver Sancho was happy to take on our recent visit to Tebay. Outraged at the price of sit-in Fish & Chips (£13.95. Not unreasonable to my mind but Sancho on occasion can seem to be), she muttered about her in-laws and their Tebay worship, Tebay’s annoying ‘goodness’ and humble air of pleasantry.
Sancho’s frowning, lowered brow did not obscure her gaze from alighting on the ‘Kids eat for £1. All day, every day.’ sign* as we queued.
The pair of us stood at the hot food counter, no other customers in sight and no descendants visible. At that time, our joint age was just over 110 years. A friendly and defenceless young man waited to serve us. Sancho leant in, lowering. There was a range of heated food behind toughened glass between them. He had a spatula in his hand, colleagues at his back with kitchen knives, the Cumbrian constabulary were surely only a panic button away but the man was essential wide open. She fixed him with The Look and ordered, ‘A mac & cheese and a CHILDREN’S PORTION of FISH & CHIPS.’
*’One kids hot meal, when purchased with one adult’s hot meal.’
Aged relatives please note, lack of possessive apostrophe Tebays own. Tebay’s own.
‘PLEASE.’
It wasn’t a request. Sancho was not ‘with child’. We were not ’with child’. Or ‘with a child’. Perhaps we had abandoned the nipper in the van?…
*’Offer is applied automatically at the till and applies to children aged 10 and under.’
The young man carefully and frankly cravenly served out a portion that would stun the average youngster and passed it over to the Alpha-female. I couldn’t meet his gaze.
Later Sancho said it actually wasn’t bad and in fact, she would have ordered TWO kids (kid’s? let’s not start all that again) portions and saved me £10.25 if I wasn’t so feeble. I said that would have been a fragrant breach of the rules as clearly stated in what was in common English law a contract between vendor and buyer. I was ignored for being so feeble.
So, let me try to understand why the aged relatives are Tebay acolytes.
We sat in a quiet, clean stone-walled and beamed white area looking out at green space. Very pleasant. There are also some giant cream Naugahyde marshmallows round a toadstool-like table to sit on if you are a child, or prefer a more surreal meal. The food is chunky, not cheap, just normal motorway prices. My meal was hot, filling and a bit bland. Service is good. The coffee, in an anonymous white cup and saucer is inoffensive. £3.60. Tebay try to source food and goods locally. The photos, information and ambience are tasteful, persuasive…. Staff are seemingly content and happy if a little calm, unnaturally calm…
The shop is catnip to the middle classes. A vast range of local cheese, meats, bread, endless cakes, ales, books about wild swimming so one can avoid the ghastliness of actual wild swimming. Green-gilleted management acolytes (surely partners) flit quietly. Everything runs well and is efficient. Are we in fact in some sort of cream and beige wellness retreat, or an orbiting space station? With chunky chips (£2.35 takeaway).
I cannot deny that Tebay is better than almost all the other UK motorway service stations one is forced to stop at or risk nodding off at 84mph (median speed of aged relatives’ travel in an Octavia or Yeti). A lot better. Make of that what you will.
So, what is my problem? Why am I keeping my voice down, why do we keep stopping here, why can’t my family criticise Tebay Services, why is any other choice (Annandale Water Services, has a pond with duckies on it) disappointing, heretical even. We do we feel we must we join Tebay?
I am not afraid to dig deeper. Their moreish pies will not keep me quiet. Except whilst eating one. £5.95.
What is this cult-like organisation set up to do unusual things adjacent to a British motorway? Why do we crave their approval? Who is behind all this, is there a leader? A charismatic shaman who dreamt this all up from nothing and who’s guiding hand draws us in from the fast lane? Could Tebay Services really have…
A GURU?
Oh, there he is. A tasteful photo of the Founder is exhibited in a small shrine (admittedly it could just be a well-made display stand) in a quiet nook where one can take a moment to reflect. John Dunning, local farmer, set up a farm shop on the A6 in the seventies. He thought he could do a better, more personal and regional version of a service station. He did. Lots of nearby people and local businesses get supported. Read the Westmorland book. £10. All profits to the Kirkby Stephen Mountain Rescue team.
That’s why we stop here.
No-one’s making us. They are making us want to.
Tebay Services are still annoying Sancho. Although she says she doesn’t mind Cairn Lodge Services, so much.
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