Two matching small black text tattoos of latitude and longitude coordinates sit on the hips of two people wearing bikini bottoms.

Matching coordinate tattoos on the hips

Lettering · Other · Mixed · Photo

Two people sit side by side, showing matching small tattoos on their hips, each reading 55° 8' 0" N and 6° 40' 0" W in plain black lettering. The linework is crisp and solid black with no shading, and the text is set in a simple typeface. The image is colour, with bright orange and patterned swimwear, but the tattoos themselves are black ink on skin.

Lettering Other Coordinates Number Text Matching

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

The fog came off the North Channel at four in the morning, the way it always did in May, and Dessie Bell swore he could smell the Mull of Kintyre through it. Mags held the wheel while I hung over the rail with the lamp, watching for a buoy that never seemed to be where the chart put it.

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We had the numbers from her father's notebook, a pencilled line in the margin of an old almanac: fifty-five, eight, nought north, six, forty, nought west. Nobody on the fleet called it anything but the Long Bank. He had gone down somewhere near it the winter before, and the coastguard never found the boat, only one orange fender that washed up at Portrush with a barnacle beard on it.

Mags had the figures inked in black on both of us the week after the funeral, the needle buzzing in a back room above the chandlers on Quay Road. "So we always know where we're from," she said, and I laughed, because she was the one who never went anywhere without a map.

At first light the fog thinned and the water went flat as a plate. Something low and orange bobbed on the swell, and Mags cut the engine and leaned out until her hands gripped the rail. It was the fender, scraped and faded, turning slowly on a rope with a shackle still knotted to it. She stared at it for a long time, then said quietly, "Right, then. Home," and turned the wheel for Ballycastle.