Black and grey script tattoo on the upper back reading a rain quote, surrounded by shaded water droplets that run down beneath the text.

Quote and raindrops across upper back

Lettering · Back · Black and grey · Photo

A black and grey script tattoo on the back reads "Life isn't about waiting for the storm to pass, it's learning to dance in the rain" across four lines. Shaded water droplets surround the lettering and trail downward, with some drops rendered in light and dark tones to suggest volume. The composition is centred on the back with a dark vignette around the edges of the photograph.

Lettering Back Script Quote Water droplet Rain Storm Text

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

The Hardknott road was closed by half past three, and you were the only one who hadn't noticed. Maggie Rees had been on the radio since noon, telling anyone with a van and a stubborn streak to turn back at the cattle grid. You had the van. You had the streak. You sat in the lay-by with the wipers stopped and the windscreen running like a bath, and you watched the cloud come down the far side of the fell the way milk spreads in tea.

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Your father used to say a pass was just a door the weather kept open for a few hours a year. He drove the sheep lorry over it every October and never once hurried. What you remember is his hands on the wheel, loose, while the road threw the lorry about. When the first hail hit the roof you wanted to shout at him to wait. He switched the radio off and said, "Watch the drops on the glass, love. They all run the same way in the end."

So you got out. Nobody was there to see it except a ewe with a torn ear, who looked at you the way ewes look at everything. The rain came sideways and cold into your collar, and you stood in the middle of the tarmac with your arms out like a fool. Water ran off your fingertips in long threads, gathering, letting go, gathering again. Somewhere below, a stream you had never known was there began to shout.

By the time the plough crew's lights came up the valley you were soaked to the skin and laughing, and Maggie was swearing at you through the window with the heater roaring. She didn't ask what you had been doing. She handed you a towel that smelt of diesel and said the road would be open by morning, which it was.