Black and grey realism portrait of a man in glasses and a tie on the upper back, with a beetroot and banners reading WE GOT THE BEETS.

Portrait with beetroot and banners on the back

Realism · Back · Black and grey · Photo

A realistic black and grey portrait of a man wearing glasses and a tie sits at the centre of the design. Two curled banners carry the words WE GOT and THE BEETS, and a large beetroot with leaves fills the lower right, with another beetroot below the banners. The shading is smooth and soft, with strong contrast in the face and glasses, and the tattoo is set against the skin of a shoulder blade.

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

The marquee at Lower Haddon smells of damp canvas and pickled onions, and you are holding a warm sherry by the tea urn, watching the best man try to fold a napkin into a swan. Your cousin Maud has been married for forty minutes. Nobody has mentioned the beetroot yet.

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The beetroot was Terry's idea, or rather Terry's bribe. He grows them on the allotment behind the chapel, and in October he took the county show cup for the third year running with a pair of purple globes the size of cricket balls. Your uncle Alan, who has opinions on the weather, the Lord's Prayer and the price of diesel, said the cup should be framed. Maud said it should be eaten. So the vegetables sat on the cake table in a cut-glass bowl, glossy as polished stones, between the candles and a hand-lettered card that read WE GOT THE BEETS.

Nobody understood the card. Alan read it aloud twice during the soup and asked whether it was a hymn. Then Terry stood to make his speech, and he did not talk about love or the bride's mother's hat. He lifted the bowl, turned it slowly so the lamplight slid across the skins, and said that a man who has spent thirty years failing to grow anything worth looking at has no business complaining when life finally hands him the best of the crop.

Maud laughed so hard she had to sit down on the hay bale they had dressed as a bench. The vicar, who had been pretending not to listen, raised his sherry and said, quite clearly, to the beets.

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