Black outline tattoo of a cartoon figure with a curling tail, above the script words Remember who you are, on skin.

Cartoon figure with script lettering

Lettering · Black and grey · Photo

A black outline of a cartoon figure with a rounded head, a small raised arm and a long curling tail, with a light red tint on the head. Below and curving under the figure, the words Remember who you are are written in black cursive script. The linework is bold and even on a plain, warm skin background.

Lettering Tail Script Text Quote

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

The monkey came in a fruit crate on the Tuesday the fair left Cottingham Green, and by four in the morning it had already had three of my currant buns and the top off a tin of golden syrup. I wanted to put it back in the crate and nail the lid down. Dough does not care what you want, though, and the bread for the Wednesday rounds was rising under its cloths whether a thief sat on the flour bin or not.

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The monkey, whom the fairground man called Pip and who answered to nothing, followed me from bench to oven like a small grey-faced foreman. Its tail curled over the flour sacks and tapped the scales whenever I got a weight wrong. I told it I had been baking alone in this shop since my nan's hip went, that I did not need a supervisor, and it tipped its head as if I had said something it had heard before.

Around five, with the first loaves in the oven and the window still black, I went looking for the old chalkboard my nan kept behind the proving cupboard. Under twenty years of flour I found her hand, round and certain: Remember who you are. I had painted over it the year I took the lease, thinking it sounded like a greetings card. Pip had climbed up and was sitting directly beneath it, tail looped around the shelf bracket, quite still.

I pulled the tray out, the crust crackling as it cooled, and gave the monkey the heel of the first loaf. It took it politely, which was more than I had managed with my own reflection that week. The sky over the chip shop turned the colour of weak tea, and I began to knead again, slower this time, my hands knowing the way.