I nod, feeling even shittier as the bus comes to an abrupt stop. Suddenly the chaos of a morning school run after dodging chucked Weetabix and wrestling to put socks and shoes on little feet doesn’t seem too awful. In fact, I’d welcome it compared to the start of this day where I’m putting my foot in it left, right and centre.

‘OK, you two, time to turn those off now,’ Bronagh sings at her teenage sons, both of whom completely ignore her and continue playing with their games. She laughs in response. I’m not sure whether she’s laughing because she genuinely finds their lack of enthusiasm for where we are funny, or whether it’s out of embarrassment at me witnessing their apathy. Either way, it’s good to see I’m not the only one who has kids with selective hearing.

Scott stands outside, waiting for us all to get off the bus so we can hear what he has in store for us. We all stand around, and rather than heading over to Mike and Zaza like I usually would I faff around with my bag and retrieve my camera to start snapping while I wait.