Close photo of a black lettering tattoo reading Family First in flowing script across the inside of a forearm.

Family First script on a forearm

Lettering · Forearm · Black and grey · Photo

The tattoo reads Family First in large, flowing script with loops, swashes and tapered strokes that extend beyond the letters. The lines are solid black with some shaded areas giving depth to the letterforms. The words run across the forearm against a dark background, with the skin lit evenly and filling most of the frame.

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

The rain came down on Hallam Market the way it always did in November, sideways off the moors and into the gaps between the stalls. Old Mother Oddie kept her cloth over the eels and did not look up when the boy came running with a split lip and a torn coat.

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"Who?" she asked him. "Nobody. The Pryce lads. They said my father was a thief." "And is he?" "He's a carter. He has a cart." The boy wiped his mouth on his sleeve. "They said it anyway."

She sent him to the back of the stall, where a pot of tea sat on an old brazier, and she told him the story she told to anyone who came crying to her in the wet. There was once a woman who sold ribbon, she said, and every ribbon she tied had two ends that had to be pulled together to hold. A single loop comes undone in a breath. A pair of them, knotted and swung over the shoulder, will carry a load up any hill in England. Everyone who ever walked a road knew this. Nobody thought it needed saying.

The boy drank his tea. When his father's cart came grinding up the lane an hour later, the boy was already at the gate, and he did not run to meet it. He walked, and took the reins from his father's hand, and the two of them went up the hill together with the rain on their backs.

Old Mother Oddie watched them go and lifted the cloth back off the eels. Some things were said to be written where you could see them, and some were only carried, but she had never yet found a difference that mattered on a wet market day.

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