Two matching traditional tattoos of a mint teapot and a mint teacup on saucer, each with a pink flower, on a pair of forearms.

Matching teapot and teacup forearm tattoos

Traditional · Forearm · Colour · Photo

Two forearms show a pair of matching tattoos: a teapot on the left arm and a teacup on a saucer on the right arm, each decorated with a pink five-petalled flower with a yellow centre and green leaves. Bold black outlines, flat fills in mint and pale teal, and gold accents on the rims and handles give the designs a classic look. The two pieces sit side by side at a similar height on the inner forearms, with a small partial word in script visible below the right-hand cup.

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

The last of the Marlow tea set came down from the top shelf the week the boarding house closed, wrapped in yesterday's Gazette and smelling of coal dust. Nan had bought eight pieces for guests who wanted their breakfast on something nicer than the chipped stoneware. Forty winters of Sallowgate gales had taken the milk jug and most of the saucers, but the rest had survived: mint green, a pink flower in the middle of each piece, and a gold line round the rims that rubbed away first where the thumbs went.

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Bea wanted the teapot. Ruth wanted the cup. Neither would argue about the saucer, so they sat on the back step with the sea wind shoving at the gate and split the set between them. Ruth took the lidded pot with its spout worn to a crescent. Bea took the cup and saucer because the saucer still had its dotted rim intact, and somebody had to have the better one.

They had the designs done in a back room in town the following spring, the two of them squeezed onto one bench with a flask of stewed tea wedged between their knees. The artist asked if they wanted it exact. Ruth said it had to be a bit wrong, because the real pot had a dent in its lid from the day Nan tried to lift it one-handed. So he drew the dent in, gave the cup a second gold line, and they walked out into the car park with their arms stinging and Nan's flower sitting on both of them.

Every October now, on the first grey morning the boarding house would have opened for the season, Ruth fills her kettle at the sink in the rented flat and Bea sets her cup on its saucer across the table. Neither of them pours until the other has heard the whistle. The lid lifts a little when the water boils, the tea comes out pale and thin the way Nan always made it, and they drink it looking out at the sea.

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