My. Three weeks have hurdled past since we last spoke. There is, I assure you, good reason. First, I wanted to point out something that will be obvious to regular visitors: this is not a forum for discussing my life. At least, not the important things in my life. This has always been a deliberate, if not necessary conscious, omission. I have the real world for all of the big stuff. I have this journal for all of the important minutiae.
It used to be, back when we were all younger than now, that the Deep Northern household would refer to me as the Cub Semiotician. It carried, for me, a happy echo of Tintin the cub reporter, racing along quiffily in plus-fours, with Snowy the dog yapping circles around him.
When I started this thing, it seemed to me that Rogue Semiotician was a more appropriate moniker.
Now, the Rogue Semiotician has a cub. The last few weeks have been spent busily welcoming baby Matthew to the world.
The cub will continue to occupy much of my time, but rest assured, I’m still here. In a way, more here than ever before.