I'm a dowager-humped laundry-ridden stenotic arthritic chronically ill suburban mother who likes the natural history of the 19th century and had I lived in that time would probably have been collector of beetles or whorled Welsh snail shells collected from moody Wuthering Heights (O Heathcliff!) beaches and moors. I would probably have said, "More tea, vicar?" and been into crocheted antimacassars. I like a good clear 19th century medical engraving.
This one (above) fit the bill this morning when I was cruising for 19th century medical images, which is one of my hobbies. Other hobbies include: confiture, researching PubMed for my symptoms, and the era of Big Band music, and identifying things I find in tide pools.
Isn't she bonnie and blythe? I adore her Essie "Ballet Slippers" pale pink reticule and her gesture of generosity, Here, citizen, take my hand. Where I live we smoke.
Why was Haydn angry at his chicken? Because it kept saying, "Bach, Bach, Bach..." and that's how I feel about my health: I want to be one way, and it is another.