Showing posts from August, 2011

Grandparents with tattoos

The media wouldn't be interested in Grandpas with tattoos. That's because I imagine there are so many of us.  The fact that I have six grandchildren counts for nothing. But the idea that women in their late sixties or in their seventies or eighties might be embarking on getting themselves tattooed, then that's a story.  If the woman is 100 years old then that's best of all.  And these women exist as you can see in this picture. The centurion photo I found just isn't sufficiently detailed that I want to show it on my blog. I do wonder how many old men like myself are occupying themslves, as I am, with getting a bodysuit.  A few but perhaps not a great number.  We ought to form a club.

A watery tattooed stomach

From this angle you would think my torso were completely inked.  Not yet, but it's heading that way.  Next time some finishing touches will be needed to the flower and a little more and then on to the centre of my lower chest and stomach. Once the worst of the discomfort eased, Ben and I engaged in the usual sort of conversation about the problems of the world and holidays.  Ben was just back from Turkey and Prague and inevitably the riots were given a once over.  Well, you've got to fill the long hours somehow. The tattoo parlour front of house has been given a major face lift, a source of pride for Ben and Stu, who has been the interior designer.  A sign that the studio is moving up in the world.