Fine line black script reading and it was still hot, with a small brown pot and spoon, tattooed on the top of a foot.

Script quote and pot on a foot

Lettering · Other · Mixed · Photo

A close photograph of a foot with black script reading "And it was still hot" arcing across the top, with a small brown pot holding a spoon beneath the lettering. The script is fine and mostly even in weight, and the pot has a black outline with a flat brown fill. The toes and a blue knitted blanket fill the background, and the lighting is even.

Lettering Fine line Other Script Quote Pot

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

Sit closer, the lot of you, the back row can have the smoke. Pass the crock along, mind the lip, it's been on the brazier since the dodgems opened. That's the wife's barley broth and she'll know if you leave a spoonful. Now. The fair came up the Lincoln road the year the big wheel lost a bolt, and a girl called Nell Ashdown walked in out of the rain with a carpet bag and a letter promising her work as a fortune teller's assistant. The fortune teller was dead by the Tuesday.

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Nell took the post regardless. The caravan smelled of cloves and wet dog, and every evening the old man who ran the coconut stall came knocking with a pot wrapped in a tea towel, saying his sister had made too much stew. She never ate it straight off. She set it on the step to cool, then sat by the generator with her knees under her chin, because she'd learned in the workhouse that a thing you rush will scald you for a week.

One night the wheel stopped with families hanging in the top carriages, and the whole fair went quiet except for the hum of the generator. Nell climbed the scaffold in her boots with the pot under one arm, dipped the spoon, and fed the nearest child a mouthful. The child spluttered. Nell only nodded and said, and it was still hot, which was the truest thing anyone had said all night. Then she sent the rest of the stew down the ladder, one ladle at a time, until the bolts sang loose and the wheel turned again.

They say she never once served a meal before it was ready, and that the coconut man's sister is still making too much stew. Mind your fingers on that lid, now. Somebody fetch the lad a cloth.