The Boy with the Golden Spoons, Stanned and The Woods of Splendour

Back at home and work after a lovely week’s leave in Torquay, and what a week it turned out to be. Somewhere between woodland escapades, cereal disasters, and a golden spoon or two, I somehow managed to make room for both adventure and chaos.

Whilst on my holiday I caved in to the lure of slick online advertising and ordered myself a stash of cereal called Surreal. It promises big time: 14–15g of protein per 40g serving, less than a gram of sugar, high fibre, gluten-free, grain free, vegan—you name it. They also sent me a funky bowl and spoon, which sealed the deal, because who doesn’t want to be the boy with the golden spoon? Even if it does mean buying it for myself.

The first flavour I tried was banana—though bizarrely, there isn’t a banana to be seen in the ingredients list. Banana's! Oddly enough, the milk tasted like a banana milkshake, which was probably its best feature. The cereal itself wasn’t terrible, but I’d politely describe it as "borderline cardboard." At least it kept me full until lunch. Later in the week I trialled the cocoa flavour after Ernie staged a cereal raid and destroyed my boxes of Honey Crunch and Cookies and Cream, leaving canine slobber as evidence. In a panic I reordered, which netted me a second funky bowl (this time a glorious pink, like my Pinkerton shirt) and another golden spoon. The cocoa itself was pretty decent, Coco Pops’ slightly less exciting cousin, but again the milk was the main attraction.

The week wasn’t all cereal and canine sabotage—there was exercise, of course. I started Monday with a run in the Uppy-Downey with Ernie. A cool 15 degrees made it perfect, and judging by his wagging tail, Ernie seemed delighted to have a proper running buddy again. Tuesday was a hot 28k on the fixie, followed midweek by nearly 9k of running and then an MTB jaunt with the Phantom as we scouted out a potential wild camping spot. During the week, Phantom surprised me with a generous gift: two shiny Leki trekking poles. I was absolutely chuffed—one for me, one for my wife SJ—so here’s hoping we’ll be on a walking adventure together soon. Thursday was mercifully a rest day, though in truth it was more about saving energy for Friday’s main event.

The crumble went down well...

Friday meant wild camping at last, my first camp since February, with the Phantom and Robdog. We ventured into a new patch of woodland which, in a burst of grandiosity, Phantom dubbed 'The Woods of Splendour'. After the usual cycle in, which naturally included a hill, I strung up my hammock while the Phantom and Robdog opted to be ground-dwellers. Supper was hearty: burgers, sausages, buns, and Jade’s crumble consumed before we’d even left home. Drinks followed, ranging from Robdog’s dubious Baileys (hmm, 'Brown Cream') to a roulette of  hip flasks spanning whisky (regret), brandy (fine), JD Fire (winner), and a surprisingly good rum. Nature provided the soundscape, with owls conversing, geese honking in the night, and the odd deer barking. Stars winked through the canopy and the moon teased us from behind the trees—though Robdog’s bout of sickly Baileys added a less celestial note to proceedings.

Morning brought a cooked breakfast before we cleared camp. Strangely, the trees themselves spent much of the night hurling acorns and twigs down at us, possibly passing judgement. And despite the spot being in a remote location, joggers and even a dog walker appeared at dawn, reminding us that ‘wild’ camping in the UK is somewhat unpredictable. Back home, I remembered the goodies I’d won from the Bearded Bimbler in his photo competition: a funky red hat I’ve now rediscovered and will wear on future escapades, and a patch that Mum has kindly sewn (alongside my Rat Race one) onto my running pack. Both patches will now clock more air time than John Denver on Radio 2.

Later in the week I gave GoaTheaD, my trusty bike, some TLC in the form of a wash, and Phantom topped up Stans in the tubeless tyres. Not glamorous but necessary, and she’s now ready for the Marches Way ride with Jamie, followed closely by the Rat Race with Mr Orange—once her missing aero-bar bung arrives. On Sunday I took her out for a 33k spin to make sure the Stans had done its job, and she rode like an absolute dream, tyres holding beautifully. Not wanting my stable to feel neglected, I also treated Eleven, another bike of mine, to a proper wash. Both steeds are now gleaming and adventure-ready.

The highlight of the week, however, was my family’s safe return from their holiday. The kids breezed in full of daring tales from terrifying fairground rides, and the house immediately felt alive again. Ernie, of course, had missed his mum deeply, though I suspect he was more concerned with the cereal stockpile being locked firmly away.

So no, I didn’t hit the big long-distance runs or arduous cycles I’d planned, but I gained a new wild camping memory, two golden spoons, a pink cereal bowl, a pair of trekking poles (one already earmarked for a walking date with SJ), and my family back home. All told, that felt like a pretty splendid week indeed (providing no thought was given to the day job..).