Lion, daisies and pocket watch leg sleeve
Realism · Thigh · Black and grey · Photo
A full leg sleeve covers the thigh, knee and calf, with a detailed lion's head and mane at the top, surrounded by daisies and swirling line work. Below the knee a pocket watch sits among flowers, and a banner with lettering wraps the lower leg towards the ankle. The shading is greyscale with strong contrast, and the leg is shown from a side angle on a purple cushion.
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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction
Dad's watch stopped at ten past four the week we brought the Halcyon up past Cressbrook, and none of us thought to wind it. Mum says that's the trouble with pocket watches, they need a hand on them to keep going. I carry it now in my coat pocket, the brass cold against my ribs, and when the lock keeper asks the time I tell him ten past four and let him argue.
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The lion on the bow was Dad's idea of a joke. He painted its mane gold for the Thames trip and it came back grey from the Trent, the paint flaking where the spray gets it. Daisies from the towpath are pressed between the pages of the logbook, brown now, and Ruth at the chandlers in Shardlow reckons the hull won't see another winter. I stand on the gunwale in the wind and count the locks between here and the tidal Trent, eleven of them, and a painted lion is no help with the sums.
There's a line Dad chalked above the galley hatch, half rubbed away now: time heals nothing, it only moves the furniture. I took it for a grumble when I was small. Yesterday I found the same words on the back of a lock docket in his hand, dated the spring he went into the hospital at Derby, and I sat on the cabin step until the kettle boiled dry.
I've written the date in the logbook beside the daisies and left the watch open on the table, hands still at ten past four. Whoever takes the boat when I'm gone will find it there, and they can wind it or not as they choose. The water keeps moving under the hull either way.
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