Disposable world

The other day I took T to visit my granny, who commented on the fine knit-work of T's jumper. The jumper was from Primark and, I think, cost something like £3. It hadn't occurred to me to admire its workmanship. Its value to me, sentimental and real, was £3........ virtually disposable. And indeed, why would anyone now bother to actually knit a jersey when they can pick a perfectly good one up for so little? That's the way we are now. We think everything is disposable and we aren't willing to put the effort in to achieve reward. Reward, like jumpers, is so cheap. I find it sad. It isn't doing us any good. And I am poisoned by this malaise as bad as anybody.

As I lay in bed this morning I actually thought, shall I knit something? A pair of socks perhaps? But I mentally dismissed it: why spend weeks creating something which will be abused, lost and chucked out....... somewhere in my mind it felt like knitting your own loo paper. But with the world the way it is now this attitude must change.

So here we are, trying again this month. I was really looking forward to trying for a baby, properly trying as opposed to accepting another accident, but actually it is getting a bit frustrating....... not nearly as sexy as I had imagined. Which that is my fault I guess. I did the ovulation test kits this month and thought I wasn't ovulating, but in fact I was just very late. I don't hold out much hope though. I'm a barren old mare.