The Dilettante Society on Kitty Hudson

We each have our share of vices. Whether it is indulging in intoxication, excessive worrying (and its cohort, nail-biting) or overspending on frivolities. We gather them throughout life, some in childhood, others through difficult times, and generally try to bat them off if they become too bothersome. Many of the habits and quirks we acquire are easy to understand - buried within them is some shred of logic, however misjudged. On the other hand, some contain no rhyme or reason whatsoever and, frankly, are downright bizarre.  

Far from trying to attain perfection, we like to think moderation is the key - we’ve all met those virtuous types and felt the creeping suspicion we are in the company of an automaton. It’s not pleasant. We each have our guilty pleasures and the key is to maintain a balance. That being said, in some cases these habits are so misguided, abstinence really is the only option.

Local lass Kitty Hudson certainly had one of the oddest habits we have ever heard of and, we will confess, it has left us rather confused. During the latter part of the eighteenth century, the Arnold native became notorious for her peculiar penchant and its bizarre consequences - bewildering doctors as a marvel of the medical world and enthralling the morbid curiosity of the masses as a tabloid sensation dubbed ‘The Human Pin-Cushion’. 

Kitty was born in 1765 and, for the most part of her childhood, resided with her grandfather, a sexton to St Mary’s Church. To earn her keep, she swept the pews of the church and it is here her unusual habit formed. When collecting the pins often found on the floor, Kitty would store them in her mouth, encouraged by an older girl employed at the church who would reward Kitty with a stick of ‘tuffy’ in exchange for every mouthful.

Whether through slight lunacy or simple classic conditioning, she soon developed a peculiar penchant for the sensation, often seen with a needle or pin between her lips outside the church as well as when attending her duties. What began as a slightly foolish but more or less commonplace practice descended into a destructive compulsion which reportedly left her unable to eat, drink or sleep without a mouthful of sharp metal between what little remained of her teeth.  

So far, so bizarre, but by the age of eighteen, Kitty’s life would get decidedly stranger as the consequences of her unorthodox fixation began to show. In 1783 she was admitted to Nottingham’s newly opened General Hospital as a result of odd sensations of numbness throughout her body. Upon examining her inflamed wrist, doctors made a most curious discovery - two large darning needles embedded under the skin. The offending articles were promptly removed, but soon two more were felt higher up the arm in a case which both fascinated and baffled the medical community.

Throughout her two year incarceration, great numbers of pins and needles were extracted from all over her body, some spontaneously erupting, others embedded deeply and requiring a most astonishing series of operations.

Luckily for Kitty, her lengthy stay in the hospital held some blessings, as it was here she was reunited with a childhood friend by the name of Goddard, himself an outpatient being treated for a head complaint. Romance blossomed among the starched sheets and stethoscopes, and her new beau would cheer her spirits with promises of marriage once her ordeal was over. As good as his word, the pair married six months after Kitty was pronounced cured of her afflictions and discharged. They went on to live a relatively unremarkable life together, and Kitty spent her days walking between Arnold and Nottingham as a post woman, despite the pins which continued to erupt through her skin.

Perhaps it would take a psychologist such as Freud to explain the roots of Kitty’s foolish vice. We’re not too sure what to take from it, but perhaps the moral of the story is if your guilty pleasure leads to copious doctors visits, it’s best to keep it in check. And remember, kids: don’t eat needles.

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