Black and grey neo-traditional tattoo of a teacup and saucer filled with roses, with scrollwork and dotted detail, on the chest.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Teacup and roses on the chest

Neo-trad · Chest · Black and grey · Photo

A teacup and saucer with two roses, one inside the cup and one on the saucer, surrounded by leaves, dotted beading and filigree scrolls. The bold black outline is combined with grey shading that gives the roses and cup depth. The design is centred on the skin with a scroll motif above and a flourish below, and a faint pink stencil or drawing is visible at the top edge.

Neo-trad Botanical Chest Teacup Saucer Rose Leaves Scrollwork Filigree Dot

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

Dear Nell, the saucer came back from the menders with a crack running under the rose, so I have hidden it at the back of the dresser, which is where Mother kept everything she did not want looked at. The roses are out early this year. The Albertine by the coal shed has climbed over the fence and into Mr Pryce's apple tree, and on Tuesday I cut an armful to put in the good cup.

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I did not tell you about the cup because you would have made a face. It was Gran's, the one with the dotted band round the middle and the little scrolled handle that always caught on your cardigan. Last week I filled it with two heads of roses and set it on the wall by the beans while I weeded. A wasp got into the sugar bowl, a blackbird came down to see what the fuss was about, and the milk turned in the heat before I had finished the first cup.

Dad's old clippers are still in the shed, rusted at the hinge. I oiled them on Sunday and went round the white bed taking off the spent heads and leaving the buds, the way he always said. It took me until dusk. When I came in my hands smelt of green sap and the kettle had boiled dry, so I sat at the table with the cracked saucer and drank cold water from Gran's cup.

Come up in June if you can. I want you to see the rose Dad planted in a chipped pot by the back step and never moved. It has put out a shoot that reaches right over the rim now, pale and stubborn, and I have decided it is not going anywhere. Bring the good scissors. Your loving sister, Margaret.