Two black script tattoos on the wrists, reading 'Everyday for the' on the left wrist and '...rest of our lives' on the right.

Script wrist tattoos with 'Everyday for the...' phrase

Lettering · Forearm · Black and grey · Photo

Two wrists are shown side by side, each carrying a line of handwritten-style script in dark ink. The left wrist reads 'Everyday for the...' and the right reads '...rest of our lives', so the phrase continues across both arms. The lettering is black with fine, even strokes against lightly toned skin, and the photo is taken from above on a tiled floor with a warm, slightly grainy finish.

Lettering Forearm Script Phrase Text Quote

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

Now sit down, the pair of you, and mind the kettle, because this is a long one and Mrs Pargeter never told it short. Her husband Sid worked the narrowboat Clementine up and down the Leeds and Liverpool between the wars, and Sid had a habit of writing things on himself so he'd not lose them. The ink came from a sailmaker's pot and the needle from a lad at Wigan who wanted a shilling for the pricking.

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The winter they were iced in at Bingley, Edie came down to the towpath with a flask and a bad cough. Sid held out his left wrist and she wrote Everyday for the... on it in her good copperplate, then she wrote the rest of our lives on her own right wrist, the half that starts mid-sentence, so the thing only made sense when the two of them held hands. Sid said it was daft. Edie said daft was what the canal was for.

In March the ice went out and the gates at Bingley opened. Sid was at the tiller and Edie on the beam, working the paddle, when the gear slipped and the gate swung. She caught the rail with her right hand and he caught her with his left, and for the length of one lock-full of black water those two halves of the sentence were joined across their arms. Then the boat rose on the water and the moment was gone, and nobody on the bank saw a thing.

Edie kept the Clementine after Sid went, and she kept the words too, going over them with a fresh pen every spring until the blue went green at the edges. That's the story, and the kettle's boiled, so mind your cups.