Services on the M4 - Motorway Services Online, M4 | service stations Motorway Services Online Services on the M4 This is the M4 in Great Britain. You may want the M4 in Ireland . There are 11 services on the M4 which are listed on this site, details of which are below. Tapping the links down the left column will provide you with more information on each service area, such as their facilities and exact location. Also on Motorway Services Online: Services on the M5 , M25 , A34 , A40 and the A419 . You may wish to search again but with additional criteria. M4 between J2 and J3 Moto M4 between J11 and J12 Moto M4 at J13 and A34 Moto M4 between J14 and J15 Welcome Break M4 between J17 and J18 Moto Read the terms of use Information provided and media shared subject to conditions .

Site powered by the jolly good MediaWiki You may copy information from the site, provided you abide by the conditions set out in the disclaimer at Most pages on this site can be edited by anyone - simply login below or register Log me on automatically each visit Service stations: my secret love affair | Travel | The Guardian The Observer Service stations: my secret love affair Run down and overpriced, motorway services can be the low point on a long journey. But look closer and you will find all of modern Britain here – good and bad. Fifty years after the first one opened, comedian Alex Horne confesses to a lifelong infatuation with our "airports of the road" Share on Messenger Close The service station at Newport Pagnell on the M1 is overflowing with curious, jubilant, patient people. Some have waited two hours to be served a cup of tea, but no one seems to mind. They can't believe they're at a service station at Newport Pagnell on the M1. It's only the second motorway services to open in the UK and the novelty is astonishing. It's 1960.

By the time I arrive at the M5's Bridgwater Services just before midnight 50 years later, the excitement has died down. This may be the only service station in Britain to boast a multistorey car park, but people have moved on. Four lads (three extremely drunk) are buying chips, but otherwise the place is empty. The car park's multistoreys are unnecessary tonight. I wish I'd been around in the 1960s, if only so I could have experienced its service stations. I doubt I could have coped with the free love and drugs, but I'd have dug the revolutionary heraldic decorations at Toddington (opened in 1965), the waitresses dressed as sailors at Leicester Forest East (1966) and the Sherwood Forest theme at Trowell (1967), including Robin Hood hats for security guards and a café called Marion's Pantry. Since those golden days the popularity of the service station has waned. The driving inspiration and innovation of the industry have slowed to a standstill.

In the late 1980s, Toddington's Travelodge did initiate a "Power Nap" scheme in which a weary traveller could rent a room for three hours, including coffee, for just £5. But when a male colleague and I tried to rent such a room recently the scheme had apparently been discontinued and the receptionist looked disgusted. Nevertheless, while their initial draw has declined, if you dare to examine them closely you'll see that service stations have retained at least a little of their magic. They may present themselves as dowdy and unfashionable, but get under the skin of any one of the UK's 100-odd motorway havens and you'll find a unique and lovable living thing. Ever since I set out on the comedy circuit a decade ago I've been devoted to these places. At the very least they were genuine welcome breaks from mind-numbing treks up and down the Ms 1 and 6 to or from poorly attended gigs for money that didn't cover the petrol. Sometimes small groups of us comics (a "gag" is the collective noun) would happen to convene at Thurrock or Birchanger Green on our way back from tickling different parts of the country.

We didn't have offices. The Motos and Roadchefs were our secret meeting places. With these impromptu gatherings we were unwittingly reliving the 1960s. Watford Gap was once the place to spot musicians travelling back to the capital after gigs up north. Legend (and the always interesting Motorway Services Blog) has it that Gerry, the Gerry in Gerry and the Pacemakers, dubbed this, the UK's first service station, "an oasis in the desert of roads", and Jimi Hendrix mistook the site's Blue Boar Café for a nightclub after his fellow musos went on about it so much. Look around South Mimms or Knutsford today and you may still glimpse a dreaming writer, determined actor or rising musician drifting to his next job. The more service stations I frequented, the more dedicated to them I became. I planned my journeys around favourites and would make ridiculous detours to stop at ones I'd yet to see. I uncovered several service station websites, like the one mentioned above, and was able to list from memory the stops on any motorway despite never having tried to learn them.

To me the names read like famous English poets or cricketers: Membury, Keele, Heston, Sandbach, Fleet, Woodall, Leigh Delamere – few lists of names could be so evocative. And I know I'm not the only one who thinks like this; my dad has always had a soft spot for Clacket Lane (which boasts a palm-reading machine and a display of Roman pottery found at the site). It's just that only some of us dare discuss our fetish. At the height of my obsession I drove to Toddington to get my hair cut at what is one of the only barber shops left on our motorways (it was shut), and to Woolley Edge, the M1's most northerly stop, to have a shower in its award-winning washroom (it was sumptuous). I've always seen myself as a travelling salesman and when I started recognising the petrol stations' employees I realised they probably thought the same. Ten years into my comedy career and I've turned on to a different ring road of the comedy circuit, touring arts theatres by myself instead of sharing a bill with other comics.

When you're far from home for days on end it makes sense to stay overnight somewhere along the route of the tour, so I've now started sharing a bed with my beloved services. This week I have a couple of shows down in Somerset so will spend the night on the M5. I could have picked Sedgmoor, Taunton Deane or even the exotic-sounding Gordano services, but I plump for Bridgwater because, according to Mark Goodge's authoritative website (motorwayservices.info), it's one of the worst in the country, barely scraping a customer rating of one star (or one burger, as his site has it) out of five. This is a place I have to visit. Can I really enjoy somewhere described by recent punters as "dreadful", "dire", "horrible" and "frightening"? Just four days before my visit a Mr Will H had commented: "The wretched fiery entrails of hell hold no fear now I have experienced Bridgwater services", but this only encourages me further. Given the chance, who wouldn't want to take a sneaky peek at hell on a Thursday? In case you're wondering, I never consider staying anywhere other than service stations.

B&Bs and hotels away from motorways aren't an option because service stations provide everything I could ever need. The kettle and bath may be slightly too small, but I've grown to appreciate feeling bigger by comparison. I find the familiarity of the rooms reassuring and like the lack of surprises. What's more, I cherish the anonymity that Travelodges offer at no extra cost. Some might think that makes me sad, but it actually makes me happy. You don't have to converse with anyone, and when you're paid to talk to strangers every day that can be a huge relief. And anyway, I mostly like the idea of staying at a motel. Just saying the word "motel" makes me feel cooler. As a boy without a driving licence I read Jack Kerouac's On The Road over and over again, and staying in motels is now my way of emulating Dean and Sal. "The road is life," they told me, and I quite agree. But late at night, if I'm being completely honest, Bridgwater doesn't seem too lively. Slouched in the front seats of one of the few other cars in the car park I notice two young people almost definitely eyeing up my wheels.

Heading into the building I spot a sign warning "No Hoodies Or Hats", and I have to press a buzzer by a locked door to be allowed into reception. It feels dodgy. Once I'm in, though, I unwind. There's the bath, the kettle and the telly, and they all work; I know where I am. The bed is clean and flat and I sleep well, the constant rumbling of traffic outside my window a help, not a hindrance. Recharged, I surface early the next morning to pile a tray full of food, find a table where I can plug in my laptop, and settle in for the day. It's not long before things start to happen. As I tuck into my all-day brunch (not as expensive as people fear – £5.99 for an authentic fry-up), the first coachloads roll in. A squadron of immaculately dressed pensioners swarms into Smiths, two businessmen "win" toys for their children from a "Win A Prize Every Time" toy-grabbing machine, and I order another coffee.

A netball team from Southampton heads straight for the toilets, half a dozen squaddies in camouflage brazenly order a dozen extra-large meals from Burger King and at least four generations of a single family sit down next to me. They all shout and squabble at once about the holiday they're on their way to. They're excited. This is why I love service stations. Some people love airports. Richard Curtis used the arrivals hall at Heathrow to shine a light on love itself, but service stations are a subtler filter. You might not see the tears of departure or arrival, but you can't help witnessing the giddiness of travel. Service stations are the airports of the road. The lorry drivers have their own executive area, travellers browse the unique gift shops instead of duty free, and everyone is on the move. We're all in this together and (unless you've dared cross the bridge) we're all going in the same direction. After breakfast I stroll around the service area. It doesn't take long, as Bridgwater is one of the smallest in the country, but there's still plenty to keep me amused. Of course I yearn for the massage chairs of Norton Canes and the Van Gogh portrait studio of Tibshelf.

Naturally I fancy some Percy Pigs, but there's no Marks & Spencers here. This isn't Pease Pottage. Instead I calculate my body mass index on the health-check machine, clean my teeth with a chewable brush and flash my cash in Full House, the diminutive casino on whose walls are writ the names of its rivals (places like "Las Vegas" and "Atlantic City", which I'm sure have "Bridgwater Services" daubed on theirs, too). I have fun. Meanwhile the Great British Public continues to pour purposefully through the doors. Numerous political commentators have declared "Motorway Man" the key floating voter in the forthcoming election, and Newsnight has even embedded a reporter at Donington Park, a service station they say will be a critical battlefield in the campaign. The successor to Essex and Mondeo Men, Motorway Man is supposed to be a materialistic, childless chap living in a modern housing estate on the edge of town, and can often be seen pulling his new car into motorway services for a coffee and a panini (according to a report in this very newspaper, he can't cook).

Despite these helpful details, I don't spot Motorway Man among the people here today, but there's no doubt most other sets of society are represented. Whether you're a comedian or a politician, if you want to peer into the heart of the country, this is the place to be, where families do what families do, loners mope and, occasionally, lovers meet. You just have to sit and watch and listen. The service that stations like Bridgwater are supposed to offer is the provision of respite during a lengthy journey. After stopping off at one of these refuges, travellers should emerge recharged and refuelled, ready to continue their journey safely and happily. That is their sole purpose. Indeed, according to government regulations, service stations should never be destinations in their own right – a decree which I've flouted several times. I'm not sure if I'd ever drive to Bridgwater purely for its services, but it certainly succeeds on the relaxation front. I get moussaka for lunch, free Wi-Fi in the café and the lady who serves me (Carol) calls me "dear". How is any of this horrible or frightening?

Sure, if I'm picky I'd rather the ground-floor café be situated on a bridge overlooking the road like the classic services on the M1 (in the early 1960s there were no speed limits on the motorways and these lofty cafés provided unprecedented views of speedy travel), but everything about Bridgwater is fine – not dire, not dreadful. In fact I'm almost disappointed by just how cosy it all is. For a service station to be truly memorable there should be at least a hint of desperation. That's why I don't think I'll ever drop into Cumbria's Tebay Services, high up on the M6 and ostensibly the country's finest service station ("gorgeous", "picturesque" and "peaceful", according to motorwayservices.info; five burgers). It just sounds too good to be true – suspiciously spotless. The UK's most contemporary service station was recently built at Beaconsfield (four and a half burgers) on the M40, just a handful of miles from my house; literally (and thankfully) too close for comfort.

The dad at the table next to me stretches elaborately and says: "I'm going to have a quick nose in the shop; do we need anything?" It's an impressive sight, so I follow him to see if he deems any of the typically miscellaneous items indispensable. After some consideration he decides he could do without a fishing chair, a china zodiac mug and an animal hot-water bottle but he does buy a classic tin of Cavendish & Harvey travel sweets before squeezing his family back in the car. By the time I also have to move on, the place is buzzing. It's the Easter holidays, the sun is shining for the first time this year and the picnic area is packed. Muscly men with big tattoos and smart ladies with laptops sit side by side sipping lattes al fresco at the continental-style Costa (with a fine view across the petrol station forecourt). I buy an ice cream from the wooden ice cream stall and think again of Kerouac's heroes: "We were all delighted, we all realised we were leaving confusion and nonsense behind and performing our one noble function of the time, move." But this time I almost don't want to move on. Bridgwater is full of life.

The people here may not be entirely curious, jubilant or patient but, like me, they're happy. They're going places. And so, eventually, do I. Reading Services M4 | Comments, complaints and reviews Your overall impression of Reading Services M4: Positive Neutral Negative You must choose one of the overall ratings, above. Optionally, you can also give a rating for any or all of the other options. Based on your own experience, would you say that this is a good service area for Caravanners: Leigh Delamere Services, Swindon - Restaurant Reviews & Photos - TripAdvisor Want the lowest hotel prices? You're in the right place. We check 200+ sites for you. Leigh Delamere Services, Swindon #310 of 347 Restaurants in Swindon £ Is this primarily a coffee shop? Yes Is this restaurant good for large groups? Yes Is this restaurant good for dining on a budget? Yes Does this restaurant have a TV? Yes Is this restaurant good for breakfast? Yes Is this restaurant good for lunch? Yes Is this restaurant good for brunch? Yes Are the prices at this restaurant low or inexpensive? Yes Map updates are paused. Zoom in to see updated info.

Reset zoom 106 Reviews from our TripAdvisor Community Hotels travellers are raving about... All reviews wh smiths west wales bag shop coffee break motorists petrol stodgy Review tags are currently only available for English language reviews. Start your review of Leigh Delamere Services Click to rate Royal Wootton Bassett, United Kingdom Level “What you would expect from a motorway services” Reviewed 29 November 2016 Unfortunately here in England you generally expect overpriced, low quality food from these places. This place has a few choices BK or proper food but they hike the price. Even the Costa charge an extra pound on top of the normal coffee price. It is what it is. We put up with it, this is what we get. Helpful? Reviewed 23 November 2016 via mobile Stopped here on route from Plymouth to London. Service station pretty basic. The children's play area looked dirty so did not let my daughter crawl there. Toilets need modernising they do smell a bit. Word of warning for the toilets if sitting down then go to get the toilet paper it activates the sensor and you end up with a... More Helpful?

Reviewed 20 November 2016 via mobile Have stopped here countless times travelling from our home to visit family as its half way! So we always call in to use the facilities. As service stations go its one of the better ones and for some reason I enjoy calling in as it feels like a little oasis in the middle of the M4. We usually have something... More Helpful? “Sonnet 75, by Richard Craven” Reviewed 13 November 2016 Sonnet 75 Leigh Delamere, you should have written verse: a minor, whimsical, Pre-Raphaelite, or modernist perhaps, but not too terse, although stooping betimes into the trite. Now come we in our cars to chew your stodge, buy petrol - ludicrously over-priced - take part in orgies in your Travelodge, and moan about your toilets not being nice. Leigh Delamere, I’ve... More Helpful? Reviewed 30 October 2016 via mobile Visited EDC Eastbound for brunch. So opted for English breakfasts. Service was very slow, serveries and tills very understaffed. Food was ok but not much more. Disappointed.

Helpful? “Great service and food in Arlos” Reviewed 24 October 2016 A convenient stop en route. Great to see some different franchises. Arlos was good, cheerful efficient service, good coffee and a great cream tea. The crockery was lovely, looked "hand made", loved the milk jug with the finger dent grips! Also a convenient M&S, and the loos were fine Helpful? Reviewed 7 October 2016 via mobile This service area like many can vary depending on staff. On the occasion that we visited we were fortunate, it was not overcrowded and having a coffee in Costa cafe was relaxing as the tables and floor were clean. Costa coffee and pastries are the same everywhere and staff were polite Helpful? Reviewed 24 September 2016 via mobile Called in here on my way with friends to a sporting event so was planning on filling up with some hot carbs. I ordered the fish and chips but was told there would be a short wait. We collected our condiments and drinks and our food was then served. The plate was swimming in grease from the fryer and the... More Helpful?

Reviewed 24 September 2016 via mobile Stopped for fish and chips. However the service was terrible and so was the food. When complaining to the supervisor at EDC about the quality of the food I was met with a shrug of the shoulders and an explanation that the ovens were not working. You have to do better than this. Helpful? Reviewed 27 August 2016 via mobile Good amenities and layout for a service station with Gregg's, Costa, M&S Food etc. Plenty of parking and better then most service stations. Helpful? Write a Review Add Photos & Videos Is This Your TripAdvisor Listing? Own or manage this property? Claim your listing for free to respond to reviews, update your profile and much more. Breakfast, Lunch, Dinner, Brunch, After-hours Restaurant features Takeout, Seating, Parking Available, Highchairs Available, Wheelchair Accessible Good for Location: Europe > United Kingdom (UK) > England > Wiltshire > Swindon Questions & Answers Questions? Get answers from Leigh Delamere Services staff and past visitors. Hi, what would you like to know about this restaurant? Posting guidelines Get notified about new answers to your questions.

Ask Do you have gluten-free options? Is there a dress code? Do you allow dogs on the outdoor patio? © 2017 TripAdvisor LLC All rights reserved. TripAdvisor Terms of Use , Privacy Policy , and Cookie Policy . * TripAdvisor LLC is not a booking agent and does not charge any service fees to users of our site... (more) TripAdvisor LLC is not responsible for content on external web sites. Taxes, fees not included for deals content. TripAdvisor uses cookies to improve your site experience. Learn more or change your settings. By continuing, you consent to our cookies. Leigh Delamere Services M4 | Comments, complaints and reviews Leigh Delamere Services M4 Other ratings from visitors to the site Truckers Leigh Delamere Services M4 is a 4 burger rated service area. × Your overall impression of Leigh Delamere Services M4: Positive Neutral Negative You must choose one of the overall ratings, above. Optionally, you can also give a rating for any or all of the other options.

Based on your own experience, would you say that this is a good service area for Caravanners: Britain's motorways 50 years on | Travel | The Guardian M1 - the brutally functional one Jonathan Glancey I have a love-hate relationship with the M1, Britain's first full-scale motorway, especially perhaps on a murky, midweek rush-hour morning. Hate, because the M1 was very much the darling of Ernest Marples, minister of transport in Harold Macmillan's Tory government in the 50s, who just happened to be a director of Marples Ridgeway, a civil engineering company specialising in road construction. Although the company didn't officially build the M1, it certainly had a finger in the pie. Marples also appointed Dr Richard Beeching as chairman of British Railways with a brief to take an axe to the railways. Marples thought these very Victorian; motorways were the way forward, together with the juicy contracts speeding along in their oily wake. And a faded love of sorts, because there were no speed limits when Marples opened the first section of the M1 in November 1959.

In boyish dreams, that early M1, innocent of lights or crash barriers, still spells 100-octane excitement. Keen young blades raced up the outer lane in smoking Jags. Chaps with pipes and trilbys hogged the middle lane in ambitious Vauxhalls and Rovers, while the blue-collar brigade toiled - and spun - along the inner lane in gasping Austins and Morrises. Here was the British class system on wheels. But they could all stop off and mingle at classless Scratchwood services, enjoying futuristic architecture, waitress service and space-age prices. Whatever glamour the M1 once enjoyed has long gone. Today, it starts, without fanfare, in a tangle of roundabouts and narrow access roads somewhere in concrete-lined north London. It unfolds from here in one continuous and more or less straight line - a feat of 1950s engineering - through the Watford Gap and up north to Leeds. Dour. Bleak. Functional. Service stations are almost uniformly banal.

If I had wanted to stop, I might have been tempted by the Travelodge at Newport Pagnell, which is where, I think, Albert Finney and Liza Minnelli's characters stayed in the hip 1967 film Charlie Bubbles. Newport Pagnell has never looked so fab and groovy. Vaguely corrupt, heroic in concept, bland in execution, the best bit about the M1 is getting off it. Driving on parallel A roads, away from thundering 40-tonne lorries advertising "logistics" companies (whatever they are). Stopping off at a pub on the A5 to read that Baron Marples of Wallasey (as Ernest Marples ended up) met his final exit in racy Monaco following allegations of tax fraud. Or perhaps catching the train instead. Best place to eat Inside the car; pack your own. Pubs on parallel roads. Worst place to eat Moto service station, Trowell, Nottinghamshire. Best place to stay Travelodge (northbound) at Newport Pagnell. M2 - the panoramic one Zoe Williams Let me talk you through the beauty of it: as you join it from the south, it has five mighty lanes.

There is never any traffic. The only bad thing that can happen to you is that you run out of petrol on the one farthest from the hard shoulder. That happened to me once, and when the AA man arrived, he assumed my sister (27) and my brother (23) were my children. This is one of the top five bad days of my life. It is testament to the motorway's healing powers that it has remained my favourite highway. Start from London, to experience the full force: you cross the incredibly windy bridge over the Medway. There is a train bridge adjacent. Race the train! The countryside of Rochester unwraps itself before you like the credit sequence of a pastoral sitcom about vets. Slow down if you will, to wait for a big gust of wind, then put your foot down as you veer wildly from one lane to another. It's like a video game, particularly if you are a bad driver and have a very old automatic car whose handling isn't great at the best of times.

Services-wise, there ain't much meat on her, but what there is is choice, as Spencer Tracey used to say of Katharine Hepburn, in his not-at-all-demeaning account of their life-long love affair. Medway is a Moto. Its loos are very clean, on account of the rigorous, no-nonsense natures of the people of Thanet. To my knowledge, it has never run out of the key sections of pick-and-mix, unlike some services I could mention, which run out of white mice almost immediately, but don't actually bother replacing any until they're down to their last chocolate brazil. It was among the first motorway service stations to start proselytising about fruit portions, over the distracting olfactory hum of frying bacon. It's interesting that, while Burger Kings are the same the country over, there is variation within the genre "Upper Crust", and I think this one is among the classiest. It's something to do with not always thinking that everyone wants the brie and bacon, and sometimes mixing it up a bit with a coronation chicken.

I have never been scammed by a broken quiz machine, nor found anything in a soup that wasn't part of the description, nor been cheeked by the Saturday staff. I really can't fault any part of the M2 experience. Best place to eat Medway Upper Crust. Worst place to eat Grim Ginster-hole Texaco before Kidbrook (technically on the A2, but the M2 has only one service station). Best place to stay Travelodge Medway. M3 - the radical one Emma Brockes It is 55 miles from Sunbury to Eastleigh, from the outskirts of south-west London to the periphery of the south coast, a negligible distance for a motorway. But the M3, born in 1971 and with the last, controversial additions made to it in 1994, is a good-value stretch of road, particularly if you like tourist attractions, gorse bushes or the history of road protest. It begins, like all good journeys, modestly: with the sewage works at Sunbury, a red-brick building among the chrome-and-glass tower blocks.

From here London peters out into a flat landscape of reservoirs and gravel pits and then, above the treeline, appear the rollercoasters of Thorpe Park, with their inevitable air of childhood disappointment. The sandy soil on either side of the road is a natural habitat for yellow-flowering gorse bushes and rifle ranges for the British army. Further turnings, then, for: Legoland, Birdworld, Windsor Castle and the Ascot Races. After 20 miles you come to the Welcome Break services at Fleet. You have the option of the Winchester services, some 10 miles on, but the ones at Fleet are bigger and posher, with Green & Black's chocolate at the checkout and a choice of several world cuisines - well, English and Italian. The clean surfaces and neat leather chairs give Fleet services the feeling of an airport, and although nothing with a final destination of Bracknell or Basingstoke can live up to this impression, it is always good to dream. For £22 you get two fry-ups, coffee and orange juice, which is roughly what you would pay at The Wolseley.

But they do at least fry the eggs freshly for you at the Moto, instead of fishing them out of the amniotic fluid they've been sitting in since daybreak, like they do at most services. The scenery gets more undulating after Fleet, as the sandy heaths give way to the downs of northern Hampshire. There's a Sony factory to the right and a kestrel overhead and then the M3 starts to cut through the chalk grasslands around Winchester, where the road splits off into the A303 - the back route to Exeter, if you're interested. There are sheep and it's quite pretty. It was here, around Twyford Down, that the UK's first serious road protests took off in 1991, when plans to extend the M3 through the countryside outside Winchester first became known. After the initial protests, the Department of Transport looked at the possibility of digging a tunnel underneath the disputed area, but the cost was too great. Despite petitions by Greenpeace and Friends of the Earth, the extension was completed in 1994. Best place to eat Fleet service station. Worst place to eat Winchester service station (although it's not that bad).

Best place to stay Lismoyne Hotel, Church Road, Fleet, Hampshire, 01252 628555. M4 - the boring one Tim Dowling Hurtling along the westbound carriageway while listening to a You and Yours segment about landmarks, I realise that this is precisely what the M4 lacks: a series of easily recognisable features that tell you how far you have come, and how far you have to go. Yes, there is the occasional restored tithe barn which, on closer inspection, turns out to be the cupola of a gigantic Tesco. There is the hulking secure-storage facility on the horizon which, if the exit signs are to be believed, is Windsor Castle. There is the smell from the sewage-treatment plant, which is, for many motorway users, their only abiding memory of Slough. Someone has recently erected a big windmill next to the Foster's brewery, but for the most part the M4 is an uninterrupted ribbon of quasi-bucolic tedium, demarcated only by its numbered junctions and soulless corporate headquarters.

Construction of the 190-mile motorway began in 1961 along a route that mostly parallels the A4, the old London to Bath road, and then across the Severn to Cardiff and Swansea. From London to Swindon, the motorway has given rise to what is known as the M4 "corridor", a thin, cross-country contiguity of businesses attracted by the easy access to the capital and Heathrow. For this reason the M4 never quite seems to escape into the countryside, though it is there all around you just behind the low-slung corporate parks. The M4 may not have many landmarks worth noting, but its biggest one is hard to beat: the mighty Second Severn Crossing, the three-mile bridge completed in 1996 to alleviate traffic on the old Severn Suspension Bridge, plainly visible just upriver, where it now forms part of the M48. The toll is a whopping £5.10, although you only get charged one way, on entering Wales. The M4 boasts an embarrassment of motorway services, the best of which is probably the Leigh Delamere Moto service area, at junction 17/18, near Chippenham.

Facilities include an M&S Simply Food, a new and groovily appointed restaurant called Fork in the Road, a Caffè Ritazza, a Burger King, a WHSmith, an Upper Crust and a barbershop. The worst, or at least the most pointless, is Heston services - depressingly down-at-heel and too close to London. If you are heading for the city, you can probably wait until you get there (though Heston was the only M4 service area to be granted 5-star status in the Loo of the Year Awards). If you are leaving London, it is too soon to stop. Just carry on west: Chieveley or bust! Best place to eat Leigh Delamere. Worst place to eat Heston. Best place to stay Swansea Travelodge ("basic but clean", tripadvisor.com ). M5 - the holiday highway Patrick Barkham Life, the band St Etienne reckoned, was like a motorway, "dull, grey and long - till he came along". But the 162.9 miles of the M5 are sprinkled with stardust.

Flowing, as the signs say, to "The SOUTH WEST", the M5 not only featured in Fawlty Towers, where an American guest called it a "little back street", but its Taunton Deane service area is said to be patronised by Lenny Henry and Dawn French. The M5 is all about fun. Its source may be the grimy land between Walsall and West Bromwich but it catapults caravans to Cornwall, dispatches drivers to Devon and, for anyone from the Midlands or the north, it is the highway to Glastonbury. This motorway is the Jade Goody of the network - a good-time-loving loudmouth who tramples on national treasures. As Mike Jackson, the author of the M5 Sites Guide, explains, it was built in the era of environmentally oblivious planning and so passes numerous heritage sites with motorist-pleasing proximity. The pylons of the Black Country are barely out of the rear-view mirror when the first services appear. Frankley is a poky, early 70s prefab, decorated with escapist adverts for online gaming websites and flights to Alicante for £31.99.

The M5 in winter is like Cornwall out of season: no queues and not a single caravan until the road passes the wicker man of the Somerset Levels and, oddly, two model camels. Those who bemoan the uniformity of motorway services have obviously never set tyre on the M5. There is the mini-Stansted airport of Strensham (southbound), the well-forested cosiness of Michaelwood, the stripped-pine sauna effect of Sedgemoor and the garden-centre-style chic of Exeter services. That said, every visitor to this service-area parallel universe must be as rich as Goody. How else to explain a hot breakfast for £10.50? These millionaire motorists must also love kitsch. Apart from the "Nuts about work" figurines ("collectable characters capturing the fun side of work") at Frankley, the best are Strensham's personalised scented candles in china pots that come in 119 different girls' names. They even sell one saying: "They didn't have your name." Perfect for that scented-candle-loving bloke you'll meet on your journey.

Best place to eat Sedgemoor service area, Somerset: the Thai red chicken curry was a treat. Worst place to eat Burger King, Exeter service area. Slow queue for an expensive burger. Places to stay Apart from the ubiquitous Travelodges, there are interesting B&Bs 10 minutes from the road in the Cotswolds (junction 13 and others) and the Vale of Evesham (junction 9). M6 - the no-nonsense one John Harris My first stop is at Charnock Richard, a services that sounds as if it was named after an obscure folk singer. Near the Coffee Primo outlet, a young man in a baseball cap is looking askance at a breakfast of leek and potato soup. This is Jocque, a 21-year-old South African, en route from Kent to Perthshire. He has spent the night in the car park. "I got a proper five hours' sleep: you put in earplugs, and it's fine." This won't be the last time today that peering below the surface reveals an itinerant subculture, seeing out too much of their lives in forecourts and car parks. I drive on.

The views get better: a glance of sea near Morecambe, and the gorgeous Howgill Fells. By 2.30pm, I am at the independently run Tebay services, where the quintessential motorway smell of detergent and chips is thrillingly absent, and there is even wall-to-wall carpet. "It's different here," says Jim, en route with his wife Monica to Cumbria. "You look at the food and you actually want it." I can see his point, though my Vegetable & Red Wine Casserole with Thyme Dumplings (£6.25) comes pretty much cold. Still, they have a nice farm shop, where you can buy duck, plum and armagnac pies and the staff converse in French. Having just about reached the English-Scottish border, I head south, through the industrial north-west, and on to Hilton Park services, near Wolverhampton. I check into the the Travelodge.

Midway through my conversation with the receptionist, a Scotsman - wearing the expression of someone who has done a long day's work - asks if she has any shampoo; much to his frustration, an under-the-counter box of toiletries yields only one bottle of conditioner, which she advises him to use after washing his hair with soap. Two equally knackered-looking workmen with eastern European accents come in, asking for a room for four people. Told that there are no "family rooms", they go outside to have a think. My room is frugal, but OK: a double bed with a rudimentary duvet and five channels of television. But the dinner options are not good. The "Moto chippy" offers jumbo battered sausages and steak and kidney puddings, with no vegetarian options. At the Ritazza outlet, there are a few floppy sandwiches. So it's Burger King for me. Best place to eat Tebay services. Worst place to eat Sandbach. Best place to stay Hilton Park Travelodge (at a push).

M8 - the pathetic one Oliver Burkeman British tourists returning from road trips in America frequently complain that the UK lacks any driving experiences to rival the emotional highs of Route 66 or the Pacific Coast Highway. Scotland proves them wrong. The A87 through the Highlands to Skye is just as much of a mythic experience: lonesome, history-laden and visually stunning. Regrettably, none of these adjectives apply to the M8. The road linking Edinburgh to Glasgow - before continuing westwards to Paisley and Greenock - is an abject slacker of a motorway: its heart simply isn't in it. For much of the distance it can't even be bothered to assume proportions greater than a dual carriageway; when it finally musters four lanes each side, it does so in a muddle of congested sliproads and complicated merging systems, right in the centre of Glasgow, where a motorway shouldn't be anyway.

It is also only 60 miles long, which means there's little need for the staples of long-haul motorway life (the Welcome Breaks, truckers' cafes and Travelodges) and little in the way of scenery, since no sooner has the road left Edinburgh's bungalowed western suburbs than the eastern fringes of Glasgow begin. The major exceptions to the monotony are several impressive pieces of public art. These include Big Heids, three vast heads by the sculptor David Mach, which sit at the entrance to the Eurocentral business park at Mossend, and a giant horn, officially called The Horn of Polkemmet, though it's straight out of Teletubbies. Amid the landscape of quarries and supermarket distribution depots, it is a genuinely cheering sight. There's one solitary service station, just outside the village of Harthill. Its name, Heart of Scotland services, might conjure visions of multiple restaurants, cafes, amusement arcades and shops. What you get are two bleak BP petrol stations connected by a scary covered footbridge.

On each side there's also a Wild Bean Cafe, BP's in-house offering that features Italian coffees, multipacks of Red Bull and that highly specific kind of compilation CD (Super 60s, 80s Back To School Party) that it's hard to find anywhere but on motorways. Heading west from Harthill, there's a brief interlude of dramatic crags, and an atmospheric churchyard. But minutes later, you're entering the notorious central Glasgow stretch of the M8, where it seems to be trying to act as motorway and local road, with predictably infuriating results. Then, several miles west of Glasgow - as if exhausted by trying to be a motorway - the M8 gives up, makes itself some Lemsip, and goes back to bed to watch reruns of Friends. I give it a C for effort. Best place to eat A restaurant in central Glasgow or Edinburgh, of course! Alternatively, the Sherbrooke Castle Hotel (reservations, 0141 427 4227), reached from junction 23 westbound or 24 eastbound. Worst place to eat The Wild Bean Cafe, Heart of Scotland services.

Best place to stay Edinburgh or Glasgow. M11 - the mysterious one Stuart Jeffries The M11 is like life. It starts mysteriously and ends at a crematorium. The M11 is a mystery because it doesn't start at junction 1 like sensible motorways, but at junction 4. Why? The proposed section of the M11 from South Woodford through east London, which would have included junctions 1 to 3, remained a twinkle in a planner's eye long after the rest of the motorway (all 49.7 miles of it) had been unrolled across the howling fields of Essex and Cambridgeshire in the 1970s. So we start at junction 4, sweeping majestically off the North Circular Road's multi-lane pomp into a near-death experience. Traffic from east London is soon trying to merge into us. A Dairy Crest truck bearing a tube of milk cuts us up as we try to get into the slow lane. A concrete mixer, twirling its Jim'll Mix It Logo, overtakes us. The journey starts hopefully: only later will our spirits be crushed.

The flags are out and flapping at Birchanger services (the only place for legal pees and cups of tea on the M11). They advertise a new Sainsbury's outlet (goody!) and a £7.99 family meal at KFC (I'd rather forcefeed my child broken glass). The air is gag-makingly thick with Burger King beef fumes. The first sight in the foyer is a display of chocolate fondue sets for £24.99. We plump for the Coffee Primo concession where my blueberry muffin looks like underlay and tastes of nothing. The cappuccino is hot and may contain coffee. On a message board, I have read urban legends of Birchanger: of five rats that roam the coach park and of the cup of tea that costs £2.95. I don't come across either, but they wouldn't have changed the ambience significantly. Back on the M11, three lanes go down to two and as a result we get stuck behind lorries struggling up unexpectedly big hills. Unseen, there is a beautiful England out there. We will not see it today because we've made a solemn commitment to see the M11 through to the bitter end.

At junction 10, we cannot leave for the Duxford branch of the Imperial War Museum. Nor can we leave at junctions 11, 12 or 13, even though we desperately want the civilisation that Cambridge may offer. Then there is a sign to a crematorium and another to an immigration centre. And with that, it's over. The M11 has died not with a bang, but with the promise of death or forced repatriation. We do a U-turn and head for Cambridge, for a decent lunch, and to forget. Worst place to eat Burger King at Birchanger Green services. Best place to eat Your car. Best place to stay Your only option is at the services. Best keep driving. M23 - the short one Leo Hickman "Am I fond of the M23? This is how I would describe her: a pile hanging from the arse of the M25." Fred the haulage driver knows Britain's motorways intimately. Perhaps a little too intimately for my tastes, as I step down from his truck's cab at Pease Pottage services.

I used to thumb rides along this very route as a student and a foolish curiosity to investigate the lost art of hitching has led me to see whether I've still got the knack. Now I remember why I ended up choosing the trains. Pease Pottage is the only service station along the M23, the 16-mile length of motorway between Hooley and Crawley, skirting Gatwick, that offers temporary speed relief from the London-Brighton traffic jam. It is run by Moto and boasts a number of plaques near the entrance, including an impressive run of four consecutive "Loo of the Year" awards. Given the billing, I'm disappointed to see that the chewable toothbrush dispenser has been ripped from the wall in the gents. This Moto offers what, in recent years, has been the Holy Trinity of services - a Burger King, a WHSmith and a Ritazza coffee stand. But in March Pease Pottage is being made over with the arrival of a Marks and Spencer Simply Food. Lucila Rodriguez, the area manager, is excited: "I have been working in motorway services all over the country since 1980. Back then we used to make the sandwiches out back.

You'd just get white bread and have a choice of egg and cress, ham and mustard, cheese and tomato, BLT, or cheese and pickle. People used to stop for tea and scones, or maybe a teacake. Everything has changed now. Expectations are higher. People now stop for longer." Rodriguez says the fish and chips at £6.99 is still the most popular hot meal at the Fresh Express restaurant. "People sometimes complain about our prices, especially our mugs of tea at £1.89. But these are expensive places to run and staff," she says. After buying a tin of sour lemons at WHSmith - a place so well-stocked with "women's erotic literature" that the section requires a whole shelf to itself - I head back out to the Shell petrol station and hold out a piece of cardboard with "Lond'n" etched out in marker pen. Someone, anyone, please take me home. The best place to eat Wait until the new M&S opens in March. The worst place to eat Moto Kids, where you get a "free piece of fruit", as long as you buy five other items, including crisps and fizzy drinks, at £2.99.

Best place to stay Little choice other than one of the many bland airport hotels at Gatwick. M25 - the circle of hell Sam Wollaston The English motorway system is beautiful and strange It's been there forever, it's never going to change It eliminates all diversions, it eliminates all emotions All you got to do to stay alive is drive English Motorway System by Black Box Recorder Yeah, but I can't bloody drive, can I? I'm stuck in early morning rush-hour gridlock, between junctions 24 and 25. Does that mean a lonely death, here in Hertfordshire, in the rain? Fast forward to the next track on the special M25 playlist I've put together. Ah, Chime, a rave anthem by Orbital, the 90s dance act named after this very road. But up-tempo dance music doesn't seem right, here in the wet morning gloom, going nowhere. Chime was supposed to be for a triumphant dawn crossing of the QE2 bridge at Dartford, with the sun coming up over the Thames estuary to the left, its fiery rays reflected in the City's distant glassy towers to the right.

But I'm still 30 miles from the crossing. And there won't be any fiery rays today, just driving rain. Still, I could be on the anti-clockwise carriageway. At least this side occasionally moves, sometimes even allows for second gear. Over there it's solid, people imprisoned in steel, going nowhere - the ninth circle of hell to the clockwise carriageway's eighth. It's a strange thing, the M25, a road from A to A (I'm doing the A1 to the A1), with none of the sense of purpose or direction that other motorways have. Few people will ever drive its 118-mile length in one go. I stop for breakfast at Thurrock services - coffee (fine) and a raspberry flapjack (less fine). There's not much to do - I could have coloured in Miles the Moto Mouse in the kids' area, but it may have looked weird. If you want to stay for a while, there's a Travelodge, with views of car parks and pylons - you may want to go, perhaps, for a honeymoon. Then the bridge, without a view of anything today, but still the M25's only real highlight.

Then Kent and Surrey, with no views of downs, or winter silver birch woods, just tail lights in the spray. The high loop of Stealth, Thorpe Park's newest rollercoaster ride, appears. Then on to the new 12-lane section between junctions 13 and 14, Europe's busiest road, with 250,000 vehicles passing every day. Today, there's so much water it's more like a river, or a huge seeping scar. Heathrow's new Terminal Five looms, a giant shed, grey today, like everything else. But grey is the right colour for the M25, a road to nowhere, loved by no one. Damn, I knew I'd left something off my soundtrack - Chris Rea wrote a song about the M25: Road to Hell. Best place to eat An almond danish at Costa in Clacket Lane service station is as good as you'll get. Worst place to eat Thurrock. Best place to stay Don't. Go into London.

M40 - the snooty one Hannah Pool As we head off on to the M40, in fog and driving rain, my boyfriend (aka The Designated Driver) hands me the AA route planner and mumbles something about it being "the worst possible weather for motorway driving". This does not bode well. It only takes us about half an hour to cross London, presumably because no one else is foolish enough to drive in such conditions. As we drive through the Hanger Lane underpass and on to the M40 at junction 1, I do a drum roll with my feet on the dashboard to mark the official start of our journey. This is nearly the most interesting thing that happens on the trip. The M40, from London to Birmingham, is a motorway with ideas above its (service) station. Built in stages, it comes in at a relatively measly 89 miles, yet somehow it took 20 years to complete. Work began on the first section (the Welcome bypass) in 1967, with the "missing link" (Birmingham to Oxford) not completed until 1990. It is a snooty little motorway.

If the M6 is Topshop then the M40 is French Connection - smaller, and a little classier, but still pretty much the same thing. Maybe because it passes Oxford, Stratford-upon-Avon and Warwick, it thinks it's better than the rest. Even the birds aren't just your regular motorway flotsam but spectacular red kites, which were reintroduced to the area more than a decade ago (look out for them between Aylesbury and High Wycombe - we saw four). Cherwell Valley services is very swish (an M&S Simply Food, Caffè Ritazza and a Thorntons) and the Warwick services (a Welcome Break, complete with a food court, which is as grim as you remember, except with the added culinary joy of KFC and Burger King). Birds aside, it's a dull, flat drive. The best thing about it are the places it takes you to.

On our way back from Birmingham, we come off the M40 at junction 3, drive along the A429 (to Warwick) for three minutes and arrive at Charter House, a B&B that is everything you'd want a B&B in "historic Warwick" to be (think Grade II listed, uneven stairs, warm welcome), all for a very reasonable £85 per night. And the next morning it takes just 10 minutes to get to cream teas in Stratford-upon-Avon. The M40 is good for hungry, literary types. Best place to eat M&S Simply Food, Cherwell services. Worst place to eat The carvery, Warwick services food court. Best place to stay Charter House, three minutes from junction 3. M62 - the truckers' motorway Martin Wainwright If you want to close down the north, organise a massive blizzard on the M62 at Rakehead viaduct and watch millions of lorries queue from Liverpool to Hull. The trans-Pennine motorway is the kingdom of the trucker, weaving through places where we make things, to a port at either end.

I use it so often that statistically I must be most likely to die there; but there's still a buzz every time I leap between Yorkshire and Lancashire. All the interest in the 107 miles between Knotty Ash and North Cave is in the 10-mile middle, and the best bit is the middle of the middle. This is the famous swoosh round Stott Hall, the farm between the carriageways on Moss Mire Moor, where McAlpine lost an entire digger - one of those huge ones with tyres as big as a house - when they crept across the hills trying to find a surface that wasn't glue. The digger is still there, far below your wheels, and the road's split line follows the only stretches that didn't sink. Balfour Beatty planted a host of daffodils on the side of the summit cutting when they'd finished in 1972, spelling out a huge BB. The daffs look completely but gloriously wrong in the great wilderness and the bleak weather has had its way with them. They now form a broken egg followed by a full stop. Roadie buffs have two other moments of excitement.

Travel at rush hour to experience one of a handful of traffic lights on motorways - at the often paralysed junction with the M1 south of Leeds. And in Lancashire, you can detour to what purists still call the "Proper M62". The number was originally given to the M63 Stretford and Eccles bypass - the bit where you soar over a sewage works and the Manchester ship canal. At peak times, the M62 is also the Friendly Motorway. Traffic moves so slowly that windows come down and you chatter to other drivers about the weather (which changes at the summit), the reason for the jam and one another's choice of car music. Choose the middle lane and then you can talk on both sides. Best place to eat Moto at Birch (between junctions 18 and 19) is new, clean and has the M62's first M&S. Worst place to eat Welcome Break services at Burtonwood (junction 8).

Best place to stay Days Inn motel at Hartshead Moor services (between junctions 25 and 26), £35-£65, with views across the Chartists' old meeting field to Robin Hood's grave at Kirklees. M4 Motorway Junctions and Services M4 motorway junctions and service areas Click the links below to find hotels near junctions on the M4 motorway

Question: On which English motorway can you find services called Heston, Membury and Leigh Delamere?
Answer: M4