Stooped over the kitchen table in his semi-detached Somerset home, Laurence McJannet traces a highlighted-yellow line on a map with his index finger; watched by a nearby Tyrannosaurus rex.

The map is dog-eared, its rips and wrinkles hinting at heavy use. The dinosaur is six inches tall, made of plastic and is altogether less relevant, yet belongs to either Leo, 11, Oscar, nine, or Jasper, four.

A stubbly, warm, silver-haired man of 42, McJannet folds the map delicately and places it in a pocket, before vanishing to the garden to retrieve bicycles for himself and his two eldest.

Once snacks are negotiated, backpacks assembled and hooded sweatshirts tied around waists (Mum’s orders), father and sons pedal away from the sleepy cul-de-sac and into the wilderness. They are going on an adventure.