My husband got a tattoo!

I am the wife of a tattooed man!

Gosh.

I never would have thought it.

He is so manly.

*sigh*

It is an enso.

And apparently, the thing about an enso, is that you have to draw it (paint really) yourself.

So on Saturday we went trolling into the City of London, and he ran about trying to find Special Japanese Paintbrushes, and then Special Japanese Ink, and finally A Book to tell him how to do it.

Later that night, when I had tired of 100 films to watch before you die (Erin Brockovich at number 28, really?) and I slowly pushed open the door to our bedroom, I got an awful shock to see him sitting cross-legged on the floor, surrounded by hundreds of ensos and breathing out carefully while painting more.

One must suffer for one's art. Bodily or otherwise.