I suppose they darned my elbow bone, didn't they? ('Vee sewed it up viff ropes', said one of the surgeons)
Suddenly, sewing changes its meaning.
The cheap trousers whose hems were sewn badly and unravelled completely as I walked across the kitchen, leaving my feet tangled in a thin nylon zig-zag web. Horrors!
I've also had an urge to darn my holey gloves, made more of hole than glove, rather than throw them away. What better music to darn to than Brazilian electronica?