The Enormous Difference to Remembered Childhood Stops: On the way back from the last trip out to Morzine in the car, stopped off for a grabbed sandwich at a service station on the motorway, somewhere outside Reims, dragging our feet while bemoaning the obvious absence of a Marks and Sparks for safe and tasty padkos and a Percy Pig or five, and dreading the inevitable long drop loo stop.
How Very Wrong We Were: Not only was there a Paul, The King of Bakeries, but there was wine (clearly a deeply sensible driving companion)! Lemon Tarts! Tartiflette! Tartiflette Paninis (which turned out to be the BEST sandwich of all time)! And most astonishingly, Ile Flottantes! Actual Ile Flottantes at a service station on a motorway, rather than damp flaccid British burgers with a limp lettuce garnish washed down with a litre of watery coke, while surrounded by dull eyed travellers made duller by empty calories. The rest of the drive to Calais can't help but be perked up by a floating meringue island.
Conclusion: The French really really know how to do (food related) things.