Close photo of a small black fine line tattoo of Roman numerals X.VII.XV running diagonally across the inner wrist, with a silver ring on the hand above.

Roman numerals on the inner wrist

Fine line · Forearm · Black and grey · Photo

A small tattoo of the Roman numerals X.VII.XV is set diagonally across the inner wrist. The characters are drawn in thin, even black linework with no shading. The pale skin and soft background keep the focus on the tattoo, with a silver ring visible on the finger at the top right.

Fine line Lettering Forearm Roman numeral Numeral Text Ring

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Take it to an artist as a reference. A good artist will make it yours rather than copy someone else's tattoo.

A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

Nell, the wind has gone round to the north-east and the Ada Grey is knocking against her warps like she wants her supper. Skipper says we sail on the morning tide regardless, so I am writing this on the back of a fish crate while the kettle does its best in the galley. Tell your mother the cod are back off the Dogger, thick as a Sunday crowd, and I have only lost one glove to the sea since Thursday.

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You asked me last week why I had the numerals put on my wrist, where the cuff of my oilskin always rubs them pale. It was the day the engine seized off Lowestoft and we drifted four hours with the swell lifting us like a cork. Dad sat on the hatch counting the hours aloud, and when the lifeboat finally came round the Dunes he was still counting. I wanted the date somewhere I could not lose it, so I put it where my pulse can keep it company.

Do not worry about the wrist. Sal at the tattooist's on Market Row did it in one sitting and charged me a pint less than she said, which I suspect was out of pity for my face while she worked. The ink is nearly settled now. I touch it at the wheel when the fog comes in and I think of your kitchen window, the yellow light and the bread steam, and the boat turns for home.

I will be in on Friday's tide if the glass holds. Save me the end of the loaf and do not let Mrs Lacey tell you what the fish fetched. Yours, always, Davey.