Colour tattoo of an anchor wrapped in rope in a watercolour style, with teal and red splashes, on the ankle of a person wearing brown suede shoes.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Watercolour anchor on an ankle

Ankle · Colour · Photo

A teal anchor with a coiled rope around its shaft sits centrally on the lower leg, close to the ankle. Its outline and shading are soft and blended, with loose red, orange and teal washes spreading behind and beside it. The photograph is taken outdoors on a pale pavement, with the wearer's brown suede shoe visible at the bottom of the frame.

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

Dear Tomasz, we pitched on the harbour field at Morecambe on Tuesday, which Mam says is the nearest thing to a seaside holiday this season will allow. The wind off the bay has been trying to take the Waltzer apart one bolt at a time, and Dougie has been up the rigging every morning with a hammer and a face like thunder.

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You'll remember the old Dolphin wagon with the rope painted round its door. Mrs Haskett bought two tins of marine paint off a chandler in Fleetwood, and we spent a wet Sunday stirring teal and rust into jam jars because she said anything that had been under water ought to look like it. The lad from the ghost train wanted the whole thing in one colour, but she pointed at the sky and told him the sea never managed a single shade in its life.

The rain came in sideways on Wednesday night and the anchor we'd painted across the back panel ran straight down into the wood. By morning the teal had spread into a pool at the bottom, with orange streaks bleeding out from the shank like something had been swimming through it. Mrs Haskett stood there with her tea and said it looked finished now, and I didn't argue. Half the town came to see it before the gates opened, and nobody asked us to fix it.

We're moving on to Blackpool on Sunday, but I've kept a jam jar of that teal back for you. If you can get to the harbour wall before the tide turns, look for a faint anchor where the spray has dried. Write and tell me whether the rope on your boat is still tied the way Grandad showed us, and whether the sea has finally given back that oar.

Your sister, Ilse

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