Gospel in a service station

After hardly any sleep on a rocky crossing in a cabin with little temperature control (think very warm) the journey from Caen in the north of France to Mr H's parents in the south of France began. Mr H drove the first 4 hours or so and I drove the last 3 and a half. Spent lunch in a motorway services where a guy dressed as Santa came over to the table and waved and said something happy but unclear through his massive acrylic beard. He was going table to table and there was real fear behind his eyes. He must be an employee who pulled the short straw this year. As I started eating my potatoes with shallot sauce a group of gospel singers started singing about love. They were dressed a bit like the moomins and I rather enjoyed the bizarreness of it. They weren't busking just like fearful Santa...it was all about the service station getting people into the spirit of Xmas. Apologies for the dubious quality of the shot but I was eating. Finally made it down here. Rather tired and I can still feel the boat rocking within my brain and central nervous system... hopefully that will stop soon.