Showing posts from August, 2011
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.
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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.