Ink'stinction rebellion

Tattoos are addictive. There’s an indescribable sense of confidence and self-gratification with each one that quickly fades leaving you craving more. After waiting five months through a global pandemic, I was back in the chair, getting indelible ink pounded into my skin eighteen months after my last.

“So, your boyfriend got one too?”.

“Nope, this one’s just for me”. 

The problem with penguins is that society has created two distinct connotations - couples and Christmas. Excessively commercialised so that all anyone ever sees is a metaphor for soulmates or a caricature boasting a bobble hat and woolly scarf. It’s easy to forget that these are real animals, facing real survival threats. Ten out of the eighteen species are listed as threatened or endangered on the IUCN Redlist. I knew these were assumptions I’d face when I decided to get a penguin tattoo, but I also knew this was a chance for me to spread awareness about industrial fishing, climate change, habitat destruction and all the other environmental crises we face today.

Sitting in the chair, with the hum of the tattoo machine lulling me into a doze, I started thinking about just how ingrained penguins were in my life.

 

HATCHLING

Maybe I was always destined to love penguins. You could say I entered this world in the same manner as them – spontaneously, three weeks earlier than my due date, and into one of the harshest winters the UK has ever seen. At just a few hours old, and clothed in a penguin one-piece, my dad took me to the hospital window to give me my first glimpse of snow. And I guess this set the tone as this analogy continued since mum had to return to work rather quickly, leaving dad to stay at home caring for me. In fact, now I think about it, I’ve always displayed the mannerisms of a penguin. As a toddler, my favourite game to play was standing on my parent’s feet as they walked along - the same way emperor penguins will incubate an egg or hatchling in the brood pouch by balancing them on their feet. Meanwhile, my own walk resembled a waddle, earning me the nickname “Pinga”. Just as Pinga trailed Pingu, I followed my sister around, desperate to be included in her games, and ran, crying, to my parents when she excluded me. Like Adélie penguins, I collected stones and proudly displayed them on any available surface so that my room resembled a rookery nest.

However, not all my penguin antics were as captivating as the bird that influenced them. A tale that my dad loves to regale everyone with is the family visit to London Zoo. On a scorching day mid-July, my parents treated my sister and I to a day out. All week all I could talk about was how I’d finally get to see a real-life penguin. The day arrived and with excitement akin to that of a child on Christmas morning, we embarked. Determined to make the day memorable, my parents decided we’d take the train instead of driving, adding an extra half-an-hour onto the journey. Standing on the platform, in a huddle of morning commuters my excitement faded, and I started flapping. “If you carry on, we’re going home, and you won’t see any penguins” dad scolded. An hour later, after being consigned to the buggy in an attempt to minimise the disruption to the other passengers, we arrived. Spotting a penguin poster, I instantly perked up and started squirming, and squawking against my restraints. Finally, I was released, and we started off around the Zoo. Unfortunately, this was not the fun family day out my parents had envisioned as I soon started to flap again when we failed to go straight to the penguin enclosure. In a tantrum my parents still describe as “possessed by Feathers McGraw”, I knocked chocolate ice cream all over myself. Forced to make a detour, we headed to the gift-shop. “She is not having the penguin one!” my dad trumpeted. “For one, they’ve only got a child’s large, and two, she’ll think it’s a reward for that sort of behaviour!”. Twenty-minutes later, swamped in my new t-shirt, I was strutting towards the penguin enclosure all previous rage forgotten.

CHICK

“Mum, I don’t want to eat fish anymore! The penguins need them…”, was my response after seeing Happy Feet for my eleventh birthday when mum presented a plate of fish fingers for dinner. For a split second, stunned silence. “Andy, you’ve got fish finger sandwiches for lunch tomorrow”.

The excitement I’d felt going to the cinema that day, proudly sporting the infamous penguin t-shirt, that now fit perfectly, and begging mum to splurge a little and buy the corresponding cake, was replaced by a sense of helplessness. It provided so much more than just a feel-good tale about my favourite animal, tackling some rather serious, mature topics; industrial fishing, plastic pollution, disability discrimination, racism and religious persecution are just a few that jumped out when I re-watched it recently. For a children’s film, this is quite heavy content, but isn’t that how change happens? Look to the forthcoming generations and influence their thoughts before they’ve had a chance to make them? For me, Happy Feet was the catalyst for the ethics I now possess as an adult. I’m not claiming I became an environmentalist who condemns single-use plastic and actively tries to reduce my carbon-footprint at eleven years old but, giving up fish was the start.

As internet technology advanced, so too did my knowledge of penguins. With parental lock firmly in place, I spent my time either play the online multiplayer game ‘Club Penguin’ - where for a few hours in the evening, before getting kicked off so that my sister could use the phone, I became a penguin - or researching as much as I could about these wonderful birds and compiling my new-found knowledge into PowerPoint presentations. You know how some kids can recite the names of every dinosaur? That was me with penguins. I would then email these presentations to everyone on my mailing list using my first email address - penguinthegeek@aol.com. This research did more than just kill a few hours though, it opened my eyes to issues threatening their habitat and survival. So, when my parents asked what I wanted for my twelfth birthday my answer was obvious – I wanted to adopt a penguin. Not in a ‘Mr Popper’s Penguins’ kind of way, but a WWF adoption - where you sponsor a penguin for a year in return for updates, merchandise and knowledge that you are doing your bit to help.

Around the same time, global warming rose to the forefront of global issues, and to demonstrate they were taking it seriously, my school organised an assembly. All they did was stream Al Gore’s, An Inconvenient Truth. While everyone else around me fidgeted, yawned, or giggled at their friends, my eyes were fixed on the screen. One particular scene caught my attention – the animated polar bear forced to keep swimming in search of land, because global warming had melted the ice, until it drowned of exhaustion. A symphony of “aww” erupted from my classmates and all I could think was “that could be a penguin...”. Afterwards I approached a teacher and asked what I could do to prevent the icecaps from melting. “Oh, I wouldn’t worry about that too much. They span 5.4 million square miles, it’s impossible that it’d all melt putting wildlife in danger”. As she walked off, throwing her evian bottle in the bin, I knew in my heart she was wrong. That evening I spent my computer time researching ways of combatting global warming to save the penguins.

 

JUVENILE

“Ok, big smiles. 1, 2, 3…”.

Posing beside my first boyfriend at our prom - me, a ball of poufy organza netting and him, immaculately dressed in a black tuxedo, white shirt, and cravat – against an icy backdrop, I knew he was my soulmate. My penguin.

Two months later, the span of the incubation period, I was standing in front of the penguin enclosure after our breakup, my faith in them waning. For so long they had been my totem, how could I have been so wrong about him? Watching them glide through the water, though dejected, I felt at peace. Being teenagers, my parents had decided my sister and I could go off on our own. “Like the Antarctic winter, it won’t last forever. You’re resilient like a penguin; you’ll get through this!”. My sister’s attempt at comfort. I stayed like that; so completely lost in my reverie, that I didn’t notice the crowd gathering around us until a feedback shrill brought me back to the present. “Sorry about that folks! Right, it’s feeding time for these little guys. Weighing an average of two to five kilograms, they can dive as deep as thirty metres hunting sardines, krill, squid…”. Listening to the keeper recite penguin facts stirred up a feeling that had long been dormant – inquisitiveness.

“So, did you enjoy yourselves today?” mum quizzed on the drive home.

“Yes, actually. It’s been a great day” I replied.

“That’ll be because she’s seen penguins!” dad joked, producing a chorus of laughter from everyone. Little did he know, he was right. The penguins had saved me from my first broken heart, now it was my turn to save them. When my seventeenth birthday arrived a few months later, I asked everyone for money and donated it to Penguins International - a non-profit organisation committed to protecting penguins through conservation, education, and scientific research investigations. Through this simple act, I discovered this was more than just over-fishing and melting icecaps – this was a massive global crisis. The guano harvesting in South America that is threatening the Humboldt penguins led me to deforestation, which led me to palm oil and orangutans, which led me to cruelty-free, which led me to veganism. This in turn, led me back to industrial fishing, plastic pollution, greenhouse gasses and climate change. I realised; everything is connected. To save the penguins, I needed to care about all these issues.

ADULT

In 2015, the 5p charge on plastic bags was introduced. I’d long been using canvas reusable ones, but seeing the horrifying footage of a beached whale with a stomach full of plastic bags was enough for the budding activist in me to burst through and start a tirade about single-use plastics. It started off as a request that my family and friends reuse their plastic bags and recycle more, but quickly escalated into encouraging them to ditch single-use bottles in favour of a reusable one and to opt for sustainable products. That same year, Christine Figgener’s video of her team removing a plastic straw from a turtle’s nose went viral and prompted a movement to ban plastic straws. Slowly, more and more businesses switched to paper staws and in October 2020, the sale and distribution of plastic straws was banned. In 2017, Justin Hofman made headlines when his photograph of a seahorse clinging to a plastic cotton swab was selected as a finalist for the Natural History Museum’s ‘Wildlife Photographer of the Year’ competition, forcing high-street chains to provide biodegradable alternatives.

All the while, I’d entered my twenties and the self-assured, adrenaline fuelled environmental activist in me grew beyond my close circle. While out shopping, I’d ask people if they were happy killing whales with that plastic bag, or why they felt bananas or oranges needed to be stored in plastic. Nature provides its own packaging - the peel! When dining out, I’d yell “save the turtles!” at anyone with a plastic straw in their drink. Yes, it made people uncomfortable and got me in a bit of trouble, but if a few minutes of unease was the price for saving the planet, then I would gladly pay. Of course, I lost friends along the way, accusing me of “jumping on a bandwagon” and “changing”. In reality, all I was doing was voicing the beliefs I’d always held. The ones that stayed started making the switch to sustainable products and altering their diets, until eventually I had my own colony of likeminded people who supported my passion for the environment and the penguins.

 

~

“Right, we’re done! Have a look”.

Preening in front of the floor-length mirror, I gazed at the most perfect penguin tattoo I could have imagined. Designed by my sister, it captured the essence of my style and love of penguins. “It’s p-p-p-perfect!” I squawked.

“Show me then!” my sister’s pixelated image on the screen demanded. “Oh Kel, it’s exquisite! So much better in the flesh!”.

“Gorgeous, isn’t she!”.

“She?”

“Yes, her names Aurora”

“Okay… Why Aurora? You’re aware that the aurora borealis is in the Northern Hemisphere, right?”

“Yes, I know that! But, in Antarctica you have the aurora australis, and industrial fishing and climate change are threatening the Antarctic landscape…”.    

Caspian's World

Hey lovelies, welcome back!

I want to share with you another creative piece I wrote today at uni. We were given a card with facts about a specific animal and asked to write down five bits of information and the myth associated with it. I got the Seahorse, a personal favourite. 

I hope you enjoy this short piece, let me know in the comments below!

Facts ~

1. They feed on tiny crustaceans and plankton by sucking it in through their long snouts as they don't have teeth. 
2. The males carry the young and newly born Seahorses are fully formed and capable of fending for themselves. 
3. They glide along slowly, propelled by a tiny dorsal fin on their back. 
4. They can change colour in the blink of an eye to suit their environment. 
5. They mate for life. Each morning they perform a mating dance to re-establish their bond and often bob along with their tails intertwined. 
6. The numbers of Seahorses are declining rapidly due to the destruction of costal habitats and pollution.

Myth ~ 

In Greek mythology, Poseidon's chariot was pulled by a hippocampus - a sea creature with the head and forequarters of a Horse and the tail of a Fish. Seahorses were believed to be the creatures brood.

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I glide along, slowly moving my tail from one piece of coral to another. The riptide is very strong today, Poseidon must be agitated. I don't know very much about him. Dad said we descend from the Hippocampus, the fabulous creature that pulls Poseidon's chariot, but I don't see it... 

I miss Dad. Although the independence is great it does get lonely sometimes. Saying that, Anemone has been hanging around a lot recently. Wanting to do some weird dance with me in the mornings and trying to hold tails. YUCK! I've turned pink, purple, gold, even black in an attempt to hide from her but she keeps finding me! There isn't even that much coral to camouflage with anymore. The strange creature with smooth, slippery black skin, like Narla's, and distorted face, that kind of looks like mine, keep breaking it. And their chariot, I call it a chariot, but it doesn't look like Poseidon's, leaves a rank taste in the plankton.

Waking up

Hey lovelies, welcome back!

It's been quite a while since I've published my own writing on here, it's been quite a while since I've done any writing, but I wanted to share with you a quick piece I wrote at uni last week - 

The brief - 

From environmental poems we'd been studying, pick out words that you either don't use in everyday conversation or don't know the meaning of. Then take a walk around campus, analyse your surroundings and come up with a short piece using those words. 

My words - 

• Bohemian
• Cryonically preserved
• Espaliered
• Mutation 

The result -

She looked around. It had worked. Back in 2019 they hadn’t thought it possible to cryonically preserve someone and them wake again. She knew that many hadn’t. As she wandered around everything looked the same but brand new at the same time. The air was fresher, the trees greener, the bluebells sweeter, the sun brighter. Apparently, man-kind had managed to save itself, and the planet, after all.

Studying the people milling around she noted that although they looked the same they were entirely different. Her skin pale and dull stood out in comparison to their apparent glow. There was a bohemian air to them. With this she suddenly felt very conscious. Although they were the same species, made up of the same components, they were very different. She was an anomaly, an outsider, a mutation. While these people had been allowed to grow freely, like an ancient oak tree, she had been trained into the person she was today, like a shrub has been espaliered. 

This task is a perfect warm-up exercise. It helps your imagination flow, gets you writing no matter how unpolished and it was really fun playing around with those words and putting them into a different context. I'll definitely be repeating this exercise to help me start writing!  

Internet Reconnection

Dean slid into the booth, picked up a menu and sat back. On the outside Dean looked like any other guy, casually sitting in a corner booth, browsing through the menu and relaxing. Inside he was feeling sick with butterflies, hot and flustered like he was working in the restaurant kitchen in the middle of a heat wave and like he was making the biggest mistake of his life. To pass the time and appear casual to the other customers he pulled out his phone, tapped the Facebook icon and opened up the message. Reading it again he felt even more certain he was making a mistake. What if she’d changed so much he didn't recognise her? What if she said she didn't want to stay in touch? What if she was perfectly happy and there was no room for him in her life? His last thought, which was the most nerve wrecking of them all, was the one that had kept him awake every night since she had replied. What if she still loved him?

Noticing a shadow over the table, Dean looked up into the same sparkling blue eyes he had repeatedly looked into all those years ago. “Interrupting you am I?” she said with a light giggle. His heart bloomed with happiness. “No I was just checking my emails” he stammered and quickly put his phone back in his pocket. As she slid into the booth opposite him he noticed how much she had changed while at the same time looked exactly the same as she had when she was sixteen. Although she looked older and dressed appropriately for her age he could still see her desire to be in fashion without it looking like she was trying too hard, could see she still straightened her hair daily because her natural hair was to quote her “frizzy and disgusting” and could tell that even though she tried to cover them up, the small bags under her eyes were from staying up late to finish her current book which caused him to smile. “Something funny?” she asked him with the accusing stare she had given him so many times before. “Just remembering a joke” he replied in an amused tone. She gave him her “Yeah right I’m not buying that” stare and picked up her menu. “Let me guess a milky tea and a slice of Lemon Cheesecake?” he suggested, silently hoping it was still her favourite. She beamed at him assuring him he was right. “Wow even after all these years you still remember my favourite!” she said as she glanced back at her menu. “Come on Kallie it’s me”. Saying her name again made his heart flutter. “Okay then let me guess, you’ll have an Ice Tea with a Belgium Bun?”. He grinned at her to let her know she was correct. “See Dean you’re not the only one that remembers” she announced with a laugh. Hearing her say his name again sent shivers down his spine.

Flagging the waitress over, Dean ordered their drinks and cakes and then turned back to Kallie so all his attention was fixed on her. “So what have you been up to lately?” he asked her curiously.         “Oh you know the same old things, shopping, work, seeing friends and spending more time reading books than I probably should” she replied as if it was the most mundane thing in the world.           “Ah no change there then” he stated causing a smile to break out over her face. “Which reminds me I was out shopping the other day and came across this” he pulled a book out of a plastic bag.              “Oh no, you didn’t!” she squealed quietly.                                                                                       “Yes I did. Rhodar’s Quest by Kallie Hillard” he read proudly.                                                            “I can’t believe you brought that!” she said feeling embarrassed.                                                     “Of course I did, why wouldn’t I?” he said feeling slightly hurt that she thought he wouldn’t buy her book. “Because it’s me and you didn’t have too. Not anymore” she said trailing off indicating the rest didn’t need saying. “Exactly! It’s you…” he whispered.

“Milky Tea and Lemon Cheesecake?” the waitress announced breaking the moment that had captured them both for an instant. “Err yes, that’s mine” Kallie said clearing her throat. The waitress placed her order down. “And the Ice Tea and Belgium Bun must be for you?” she said to Dean in an alluring tone and placed it down in front of him. “Let me know if you need anything else” she whispered and winked at Dean as she walked away. Kallie glared at the waitress then looked down at her food. “Something’s never change!” she said under her breath.                                                                  Dean chuckled. “No need to get jealous”.                                                                                          "I’m not jealous, I’m just saying even after all these years, girls are still throwing themselves at you and flirting with you even though I’m sat right here! What!?”. Dean sat there laughing while Kallie sat there staring accusingly at him. “Nothing it’s just funny to see you still get wound up when another girl is around me” he said after he had stopped laughing.                                                     “It’s just out of habit” she said coldly causing him to start laughing again.

“That waitress keeps looking over here” Kallie said jealously. “Keeps giving me a look then gazing at you”.                                                                                                                                                        “I wouldn’t know, I’m more interested in looking at you than the waitress” Dean replied. Kallie stared at him with a puzzled look and was about to say something then dismissed it. “How’s the cheesecake?” Dean asked with a mouthful of Belgium Bun.                                                             “It’s gone sour” Kallie replied keeping her eyes fixed on the waitress.                                         “Well it would do, it’s Lemon” Dean said humorously. Kallie looked at him.                                         “Ha Ha very funny” she said stubbornly but the amused look on Dean’s face made it impossible to keep up. “See I’m still the funniest person you know” Dean said triumphantly.                                    “Still the cockiest too” she replied with a smirk.                                                                              “Hey!” Dean threw his crumbs at her in protest.

Noticing the waitress was heading their way wearing a disapproving glare, Kallie sobered. “Oh look your girlfriend’s coming over” she said in a mocking tone.                                                             “Shall I take those for you?” the waitress asked keenly keeping her eyes on Dean.                         “Yes and the bill” Kallie said in a flat tone.                                                                                       “Of course” the waitress replied politely and cleared the table.  Kallie turned to Dean and smiled.  “Anyway how are things going for you? I heard a new restaurant’s just opened up in town. Cartler’s, ring any bells?” she said with a grin.                                                                                                   “Ah yes, I wondered when that would come up” he replied shyly. “Not as great as a bestselling book though” he added pointing to the book on the table.                                                                          “Are you kidding? Owning your own restaurant is a huge achievement, you should be very proud of yourself”.                                                                                                                                         “What about you? Writing a bestselling is a huge achievement too!”. Kallie giggled nervously as Dean sipped his drink.

The waitress brought the bill over and left it on the table without saying a word. “So shall we split the bill half and half?” Kallie asked whilst digging around in her bag for her purse. Without hesitating Dean put a 10 pound note on the little black tray, “No. No. I’m paying, my treat”. Kallie looked at him with confusion but decided it was best to let him pay. She’d argued with him over this very thing all those years ago and never won. What would be different now?

Thanking the café owner, they left and automatically started walking down the street without stopping to look which way they were heading. When they reached the traffic lights they stopped. “So my cars parked down there” Kallie said as she pointed down one of the roads.                                “I’ll walk you to your car” Dean quickly replied. He wasn’t ready for her to leave just yet.            “Err okay” Kallie said awkwardly and headed down the road she had pointed down.                   “This was really fun, we should do it again” Dean said to make conversation, he couldn’t let it end like this. “Yeah that would be great!” she said as she turned and smiled at him. They continued in silence until they reached a Purple Nissan Micra. “Well this is me” she said looking anywhere but at him. “Okay well…” Dean stood there with him hands in his pockets waiting for her to drive off and leave his life forever. Just like that fateful day when she got into her father’s car and headed off down the M3 to Plymouth. When she left him, instead of the other way round, like it had been so many times before. Kallie looked up and noticed he was staring at her. She squirmed uncomfortably. “Please stop looking at me like that” she whispered.                                                                             “I can’t” he whispered back and taking his hands out of his pockets he moved closer.                  “Dean we’ve been through this before, so many times! Thinking maybe this time will be different, we’ll get it right and…” she cut off as Dean took hold of her waist and pulled her in so their bodies pressed together. “There’s a reason you agreed to meet for coffee” Dean breathed in her ear.      “Dean please” she pleaded with him. His breath on her neck gave her Goosebumps, the kind she hadn’t felt in years. The kind of Goosebumps only Dean could give. “You know what they say” Dean said in between kisses that he planted up Kallie’s neck. “First love’s are?” he stopped when he reached her lips. Her eyes locked with his and he motioned for her to finish the sentence. “Forever” she answered almost inaudibly as his lips met hers and reality melted into the background. The sound of traffic became nothing but a noise, like the static sound you hear when listening to the radio, as the kiss transported them back to when they were sixteen and first in love.

The Envelope

I was without a care in the world till I opened the envelope. It had been an ordinary day and I hadn't been expecting post at all.

It had just gone 2pm and as I'd had the day off work, I settled down to watch some daytime TV. After about 15 minutes boredom had settled in and as it was during a break, I went into the kitchen to make a cup of tea. Initially I hadn't noticed the envelope until late that evening as I was on my way to bed. Picking it up, I brought it upstairs with me where I then tossed it onto the bedside table.
I was all snuggled up ready for bed. The autumn wind was howling outside. The almost bare branches tapping against my window. I climbed into bed and as I reached for a book the envelope caught my eye again. With the wind howling outside and the branches tapping on my window, the whole situation had a spooky atmosphere. I picked up the envelope and a chill ran down my spine. As a strong believer in superstition and my OCD added into the mix, I no longer felt safe.
I opened the envelope and pulled out the piece of paper it had contained. It felt hard and crunchy. Like something had been glued to the paper. Unfolding the piece of paper I read its message. Suddenly I jumped out of bed and just as I was about to leave the room, because I no longer felt safe, my phone vibrated and stopped me in my tracks.
I picked up the phone and opened the message which read, "look outside". I ran to the window and pulled back the curtains and scanned, even though I had no idea what was out there, my front garden. My phone vibrated again. This time it read "curiosity killed the cat you know". I continued to scan for a few more seconds but nothing caught my eye. As I was about to close the curtains a rustle in the bushes made me stop.
Slowly the dark figure emerged from the bushes. 'oh for gods sake' i thought, 'they really should keep that bloody cat indoors.' All this fear had made me thirsty, so I went downstairs to get a class of water. As I suffered from panic attacks, water was the only thing that calmed me down.
After I'd had a drink and the feeling of normality was beginning to return to me, I decided it was time to go back upstairs. As I was about to head up the stairs a knock at the door froze me. I just stood there in a trance for goodness knows how long with the knock of the door going round in my head. Finally I snapped out of it and slowly started moving towards the door.
As I approached the door I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror, fear was all I could see. I reached for the door handle and slowly turned it, revealing what was awaiting me...

Bizarre Hair

Wake up in the morning and the first thing I feel is the flat mess of hair stuck to each side of my face. As I detach myself from the mess that had fixed itself to me during the night, I notice an awful smell lingering around and as I pull the last few strands of hair off my face I notice the dampness too. 'Great' I think to myself 'another hour of brushing,washing and conditioning it'. 

After getting out of bed and walking to the bathroom, I take a long hard look at myself in the mirror, sighing as I turn the hot tap on and fill the wash basin up with water.

After brushing out the product from the previous day and washing it at least twice, I reach for the gel and head back to my room to turn the curling tong on. Picking up a handful of the gloppy substance to apply to just one side, I take a moment to think 'Why do I bother?' but then the pictures that are dotted around my room catch my eye and I am reminded of how unique I look with my curled facial hair and say to myself "this is why I bother".

Books (Poem)

A quiet space all of my own,

That transforms into magical worlds

Where anything can happen,

And all made possible by a few 100 pages bound together.

Worlds where boys ride dragons and girls shrink to the size of a mouse.

Where vampires fall in love and angels fall.

A series that defined a generation

A saga that created controversy

And a trilogy that created a franchise still effective today. 

Books, open up worlds you can only dream of.