When I was little, I wanted to be a nurse when I grew up. This is me meeting my sisters for the first time:
(Well, it was a hospital. Obviously I had to wear my nurses uniform.)
I did go to nursing college. Twice. But I never graduated (that story is too long and boring for the blog though). Instead I ended up working in an office on a computer – not quite the plan. But I think I may have found a bit of a balance…
A few weeks ago, someone posted on a Facebook group that she had a crochet tortoise that had been her Mum’s, but that her daughter now played with. Being rather old and well loved, Tortoise was in need of some TLC – she was asking if anyone could help.
I commented, saying I only crocheted as a hobby, but if nobody else could be found, I’d do my best to help. Nobody else offered and Tortoise arrived at Pog Towers, turning out to be a lot bigger than I thought and in a very sorry state.
I’ve never tried to fix anything crocheted before – I’d never even made a hexagon, which is what Tortoise was made up of. I looked up a pattern, taught myself a new stitch and rummaged through my wool collection for oddments that matched. It turns out it’s rather tricky to fit new pieces into something old, but I worked out a way and over a few evenings, I nursed Tortoise back to health. I fixed his shell and tummy, reattached his legs and a poorly eye and re-stitched the seams that looked a bit sick. I tried to keep as much of the original stitching as I could.
It turns out that Tortoise had actually been made by this lady’s Grandma for her Mum….Tortoise is over 50 years old! Sadly, Grandma and Mum are no longer with us, which meant he has even more sentimental value than I had thought (and scared me even more in case my nursing skills weren’t up to scratch!). It also turns out that the lady’s Mum was a nurse – this is a picture of Tortoise in his younger days with her Mum’s nursing friends:
The best part of all this though, was delivering Tortoise back to his home. The little girl who plays with him was SO happy to have him back! We had a look at all the bits I’d fixed and she approved – especially that I’d fixed what she called his ‘dripping eye’.
So what do you think? Could I open a toy hospital and be Nurse Pog after all? :o)