Traditional-style tattoo of a black and red umbrella with a red heart, yellow beads and teal and black raindrops, on the arm.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Umbrella and raindrops on an arm

Traditional · Upper arm · Mixed · Photo

A traditional-style tattoo shows a black umbrella with red panels, a yellow trim and a red finial, with a brown handle ending in a hook. Beneath it hangs a red heart with yellow and orange dots, flanked by five teardrop-shaped raindrops in teal and black. Bold black outlines and flat solid fills dominate, against plain pale skin and a light background.

Traditional Upper arm Umbrella Raindrop Heart Rain

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

Dear Mags, the rain has not let up since Tuesday and Mr Pascoe has started charging a penny extra for a brolly at the pier kiosk, which I told him was daylight robbery and he said that was the going rate in a monsoon. I bought the red-and-black one from the Co-op anyway, the one with the brass hook gone green at the tip, because you know how Dad never once in his life walked to the bus stop without it. I found it under the stairs with his good shoes and the tin of Bisto. I have been carrying it up and down the front all week like a flag nobody asked me to fly.

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You will laugh, but the gulls have stopped shouting. They sit on the railings with their feathers flat and look at the sea as if it owes them money. Mrs Hollis from number nine says it means a long wet spell, and she says it with the same face she used when the Ambrose boy went off to Malaya. I haven't told her about the letter that came on Friday, the one with the crest. I keep it in my coat pocket with the bus fare, where I can feel the corner of it every time I reach for change.

So this morning I walked down to the harbour wall with the umbrella up, just to see whether it still kept the weather off. It did, mostly. Water ran off the ribs in five fat strings and spattered on the stones, and a little tin heart Dad painted on the handle for Mum's birthday in 1938 swung there like a bell that had forgotten how to ring. I stood there until the tide turned. When I came home my stockings were soaked to the knee and my hair was flat to my head, and I thought, well, at least something in this house is still doing its job.

Write back soon. Tell me the weather in Leeds is worse than ours, even if it isn't. Your loving sister, Joan.