Close-up of a red Mickey Mouse ice lolly tattoo in colour on a thigh, surrounded by an anchor, a castle outline and a cartoon figure.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Mickey Mouse ice lolly on a thigh

Traditional · Thigh · Mixed · Photo

A red Mickey Mouse shaped ice lolly sits at the centre of the thigh, with shaded drips running down from its edges and a stick at the base. Smaller tattoos surround it, including a dark green and orange anchor on the left, a teal Disney style castle outline on the right, and a partly visible cartoon figure at the top. The bold outlines and solid fills give the piece a colour-led look, and the photograph is framed tightly on the thigh with denim shorts at the top edge.

Traditional Thigh Mickey mouse Anchor Castle

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

The mould came up from Bristol in a crate of straw, and Dad swore on his mother's Bible it would never hold a shape. It was a tin tray of six, dented at one ear, and the shape it pressed was two round bumps on top of a bigger round, like a face that had decided to be pleased with itself. He filled the cavities with raspberry syrup, pushed the wooden sticks in, and left the lot overnight behind the chip shop freezer while the sea went grey outside the window on Marine Parade.

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By the August bank holiday the whole of Sandhaven was queuing for them. Mrs Pruett from the post office bought one for her husband, who had a bad chest and was not allowed sweets, and she said he sucked it in the bath like a boy. The fishermen wanted them after the early tide. Nobody asked what they were meant to be. The children called them ears, and after a while I stopped correcting them.

Then came the drips. The red set too fast on one side, so it ran down the lower half in long dark streaks, and Dad wanted the whole batch thrown in the harbour. I sold them anyway from the tin cart by the anchor post, the one that rattled on the cobbles, and told every child the melting was the best part. Dad never said a word about it, though he stopped hiding the tray.

The last of them went the week the lifeboat came in with only the cox aboard. Mr Ferris bought the final one from my hand and turned it over slowly, studying the stick, and said the bumps were a kindness. I didn't ask him what he meant. When the cart went to the scrapyard in 1958 I kept the tray, and I scrubbed its dents with salt so the shape would stay clean.