Joker and Batman full sleeve tattoo

The shutters on Pellow Street went up again this morning and I finally got the grey right. You'll laugh, because you always said I could never get a shadow to sit still. I used three washes on the grin alone, thinned with rainwater from the butt by the back door, and let each one dry before the next. The trick, I told the lad from the bakery, is to keep the white of the teeth honest. Leave the paper showing and the face does the rest.

The commission came from Mr Haskett, who owns the cinema and wants the whole west wall done before the regatta. He gave me the brief on the back of a ticket stub: a laughing man in a purple coat, a bat above the door, and the little figures underneath, the bakers and the lamplighters, all looking up. I told him purple doesn't do well in grey. He said grey was the only colour he trusted this year.

Last night, with the lamps lit, I stood back and saw it properly. The grin was too wide for a clown and too tired for a joke. It looked like the face I make in the mirror when I've been up with the ledger. I have been keeping this wall for thirty years and never once thought to paint myself on it.

I've left the bat unfinished. Come and fill it in if you like. The ink is in the blue tin.

Love, Dad