There is nothing quite like taking a few weeks away from the hustle and bustle of life to recharge your batteries, take stock of all that matters before coming back ready to face the world once more.

Yet, for all that the past few weeks have been good for the soul, renewal was more of an effort than it should have been, as you never have far to look before encountering some enterprise or other that is hell-bent on making your holiday as miserable as possible.

First among them is the motorway service station. Every time I have the misfortune of stopping in one – usually because my good lady has a bladder the size of a peanut – I’m instantly reminded of the communities along the length of the A9 who have had the wisdom to oppose such monstrosities, compelling motorists into the adjacent villages to enjoy, even if briefly, the delights they have to offer.

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Setting aside the eye-watering premium on their fuel prices – even then most can only aspire to the mask-wearing robbery my local Kinross services manage – they are frankly hideous places to encounter. You don’t need the signs telling you which fast food franchise you will find, as the litter-strewn verges more than give it away.

And if a grossly overpriced lukewarm burger and chips aren’t your bag, you can pick from a vast array of heavily processed sandwiches as part of what has the temerity to be called a meal “deal” to sustain you on your journey (or at least as far........

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