The Osbourne family bobblehead pens are looking fairly static; not leaping or swaying or swooning or smiling bravely through tears to this Matt Ward album like they should be doing, they’re content just to sneer like the inanimate objects they are. Kelly looks absurd: they’ve reduced her weight by about 60 pounds. Jack looks like my bouncy intern Bill: he of the Flock Of Seagulls hairdo and thick-rimmed glasses. This M Ward album is so beautiful. Someone should put him on their cover right now. It’s all about the pain and the loneliness and the rapture of travelling alone, blindly driven. He sounds so soulful.

Yesterday was one of those brilliant, cold, sunny days where you can see the entire range of mountains surrounding Seattle - the Cascades, the Olympics, Mount Rainier: the sort of day that always reminds me of why I fell in love with this miserable old, rainy, ghost-laden town; everything is cleansed anew. It’s almost religious. Walking down 24th, near Union, on our way to Safeway’s, a smiling lady accosted us: “The last time I saw people kissing like that was on the streets of Paris. People should do it more often here.”

Charlotte is now swaying and smiling and peeking around a pillar in her new sweater and shirt, dancing happily to M Ward. We’re off on a free tour of the Experience Music Project shortly…