Rabbit Foot Spasm Band frontman and devoted working class dad at odds with Oxford . . . and the world

Over the past year I’ve been travelling to London more and more frequently. I’m actively seeking work in the capital. On any given Monday I might be seen striding up Jermyn Street with an artificial spring in my step. At art launches I can be found attempting to network – a polite way of admitting I neck free sherry and shove my business card at people.

And yet I earn less money than I do here in Oxford. The cost of travel is increasing and the motorway traffic daunts me. So why the lure of the Big Smoke?

Actually it’s got nothing to do with London itself. It’s the journey that keeps me enthralled. For on junction 2 of the M40 lies one of jewels in England’s culinary crown. I refer, of course, to Beaconsfield Motorway Service Station.

Even its own website shamelessly refers to it as “one of the most attractive motorway service areas in Europe”. And they’re not wrong. Designed by Leeds-based architecture firm Architecture519, the complex is light and airy, surrounded by ponds, shrubs and woodland areas.

Beaconsfield features the largest petrol filling station in the UK. And to the right hand side of the entrance there’s even an outdoor laundry and dryer facility.

This is perfect for people like me who’re forever spilling red wine on their trousers. But it’s the range of food inside than really does it. Alongside the staple motorway outlets (24 hour Starbucks and MacDonald’s plus a KFC that stays open until 4am) there are options here to eat – Chinese, Thai, Indian, Italian or Mexican food. You can even grab a traditional English Sunday roast.

Controversially there’s a JD Wetherspoons pub – the Hope and Champion, which opened in January. I’m not convinced that putting a pub on a motorway is a great idea. But I’m not complaining. And you’d be hard pressed to find a better value breakfast in any other chain.

And then this July the trips to London took a sharp upturn. Because Beaconsfield smashed it when a new branch of Nando’s opened. There is now not a single car journey on which my colleagues and I are able to drive past. We tried once, had to turn the car around, and go back.

If you don’t know this restaurant it’s famed for its extra hot chicken. You’re encouraged to eat with your hands – a concept I have no problem with, because I am essentially a caveman. The chilli in the food produces endorphins, the same joy-inducing natural chemical you get on a long distance sprint. The same stuff that keeps marathon runners going.

To the uninitiated I can only compare the act of eating Nando’s to that of having wild sex – except with a chicken.

In fact with a range of food this good there’s really no point making the rest of the journey to London at all. You may as well head straight back to Oxfordshire. Or even book into the service station hotel.

Two weeks in Benidorm?

Forget it. Next year I bring a suitcase.