Torso selfie showing black script lettering along the left ribs and a colourful floral tattoo on the upper arm, in workout clothes.

Script on ribs with floral arm tattoo

Lettering · Ribs · Mixed · Photo

A close-cropped selfie of a toned torso in a grey sports bra and dark shorts with a pale pink waistband, with the face out of frame. A black cursive script tattoo runs vertically along the side of the ribs, only partly legible, and a colourful floral design is visible at the top right on the upper arm. The lighting is even indoors, with a home setting and a gym bench in the background.

Lettering Ribs Upper arm Script Lettering Floral Flower

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

Dear Tess,

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The cut at Hobbs Lock froze again last night, so Dad has had me out at dawn with a bucket and a bad temper, chipping ice off the gates. I'm writing this on the cabin step with the ink pot balanced on my knee, because the table is still buried under seed catalogues and his lists.

The geraniums on the roof came through the frost better than we did. I've tied their pots down with florist's wire and given them the last of the washing-up water, which Dad says is a waste and then takes the credit for when they bloom. Along the side of the hull the name is still painted in that curling script, Margery Fen, the letters flaking off at the M like old paint on a church door. Dad wants it done up properly by a man in Ely. I've been copying the loops onto the back of a feed bill so I know how the tails go when I'm the one holding the brush.

Last week I found a bundle of letters in the bow locker, tied with baler twine. They were written in the same looping hand by Grandma Ivy to a woman called Marjorie who lived on the next boat down, and the last one ends with a line I can't stop reading: keep the water moving and the flowers will find their way along the rail. There's no reply in the bundle, so I don't know whether Marjorie ever wrote back.

I've decided not to let the man in Ely have the name. Come up in May and you'll see the roses Ivy planted in a tin, climbing the rail just as she promised. Bring your good pen. There's a pot of ink here with your name on it, and I've left a space at the bottom of the page for you to write back.

Love, Ada