You may have noticed me mention I'm an expectant father.
Baby Northern is now the size of a cantaloupe melon. The little blighter is moving, eyes are virtually fully formed beneath eyelids that won't open just yet. Not long until October 11th, our due date.
Funny how it changes how I feel inside already, the job has become at once less and more important.
Less because I already know I'll resent anything that gets in the way of being home for bath time, generating market share growth or shifting perceptions just won't match seeing the first smile. Right now, nothing's more important than making sure a tired, hormonal Mrs Northern is okay.
It's bloody, massively more important than ever because I'm already stopping wanting things for myself and realised a, slightly cavalier attitude towards life will no longer cut it. I don't want my baby to want for anything (although in a grumpy, Northern way, he/she won't be spoiled either).
I just can't wait though, thinking about all the things we're going to do together. Hours spent in the kitchen cooking and baking stuff, tennis lessons, the fun we'll have going swimming (God help me if we have another good swimmer on our hands, transport to 5am training sessions and then a full day's work is a little scary), staying with Grandma and Grandad in Cornwall – digging in the sand, rowing in dingy and playing in the waves.
Not long, not long.
NORTHERN PLANNER 
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