As an NHS employee I thought I'd give myself a little anniversary treat today by giving my own profession a mention. I'm an occupational therapist - or 'A Bloody Basket Weaver!' as the nurses that I work with call me. They allude to a time when the occupational therapy world was almost entirely populated by nice wholesome middle class girls who foisted craft activities on unsuspecting victims in hospitals. Here's some. I couldn't resist this even though, judging by the clothes, it's probably from a time that pre-dates the National Health Service. I'm wondering whether those young men dressed in weird garb look so eager to be sewing because the girl is very pretty. It's amazing what the male of the species will do in those circumstances. My son came home from Scout camp the other day covered in glitter applied by a Girl Guide!
Today occupational therapists are a more eclectic bunch. There's even a few big hairy blokes among our number. What we do is very diverse too. My colleagues in physical health do a very different job. You wouldn't necessarily recognise that we're from the same profession.
Theories about occupation have moved on. For activity to be therapeutic it has to match the individual, their beliefs and what they need and want to do. So it doesn't look like I'll be persuading poorly men to wear a dress and engage in needle crafts at any time soon. Unless of course, they express a desire to do this!