Black and grey lettering tattoo reading Allons-y with a sonic screwdriver and dotted swirls on the outer thigh.

Allons-y lettering with sonic screwdriver on thigh

Lettering · Upper arm · Black and grey · Photo

A black and grey tattoo on the outer thigh spells out the word Allons-y in a bold, flowing script. A sonic screwdriver style device sits beneath the letters, with fine swirling linework and scattered dots filling the space around the lettering. The shading is mostly solid black with light grey, and the design is framed by the thigh within a casual photo.

Lettering Upper arm Lettering Swirl Dot

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

Mum, the oven at Hollis Lane has finally given up, so Mr Abara and I have been baking by hand since Tuesday, which he says is the only honest way to bake anyway. You'd like him. He hums while he kneads and calls every tray a new adventure, and when the first batch comes out of the deck at four, he waves his old steel probe over the loaves like a conjuror and says Allons-y before anyone has asked what we're doing.

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The probe was his father's, a thin brass thing with a tip that clicks when the crumb reaches heat. Nobody else is allowed to touch it. Last night the power dipped twice around three, the lights blinked out over the flour sacks, and in the dark I heard the probe whirring like a kettle that had forgotten itself. He said the bread knows when it's ready and so does the tool. I said bread doesn't know anything, Mr Abara, and he laughed so hard he had to sit down on the proving crate.

This morning the last tray of sourdough came out the colour of wet sand and split along the scores exactly as he'd drawn them, curling like ribbons under the lamp. He held the first loaf out to me, still steaming, and said nothing, which is how I knew it was good. Then he tapped it with the brass tip and told me the bread was on time, and so were we.

Dawn is coming up grey over the bins as I write this. The van from the Dunmore Road shops has pulled in with its headlights still on, and I'm going out to meet it with two warm loaves under my arms, thinking of you, and of how the whole town will wake up tasting somebody else's night.