For about five-six years or so I've been interested in getting a tattoo. But Paul was dead set against it, thought they looked ugly, and I respected his decision (as we were about to get married I figured he got to have a say in what I did, and I chose to listen to him). Then, early this year, he had a wonderful change of heart. And since he had decided that not only was that a cool design, but that that would be a cool design on him, he couldn't really say he didn't want me to get one.
So on Saturday, Paul's 29th birthday, we both got tattoos. He has an awesome celtic knot with a thistle on top. He is fiercely proud of his Scottish heritage, and fiercely proud of his tattoo. It's scabbing over nicely. What did I go for?
So on Saturday, Paul's 29th birthday, we both got tattoos. He has an awesome celtic knot with a thistle on top. He is fiercely proud of his Scottish heritage, and fiercely proud of his tattoo. It's scabbing over nicely. What did I go for?
You'll probably recognise it as being the same footprints in my little avatar over to the top left. But more than that (and this is really, really nerdy - I honestly don't expect anyone except me to think this is in any way cool), it's the narrow-gauge sauropod tracks from the Ardley Quarry site in Oxfordshire.
It's probably not the last (in fact, I'm sure it's not the last). At 28-29, Paul and I are too old to pass this off as an indiscretion of our teens to be bitterly regretted as sensible grown-ups, and we're too young for a mid-life crisis...
It's probably not the last (in fact, I'm sure it's not the last). At 28-29, Paul and I are too old to pass this off as an indiscretion of our teens to be bitterly regretted as sensible grown-ups, and we're too young for a mid-life crisis...
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