so scratch your name on my arm with a fountain pen

I was amazed at how clean the Shields ferry was. Being transported anywhere on water is a comforting process, I looked up at the little box and saw a middle-aged man, with a face that forgot how to be anything but eyes, in the little box upstairs with captain stripes on his sleeves. I wondered if he realised how comforting it was to be on his ferry, if he loved his job going back and forth with people feeling excited at no more than the knowledge of water, or always longed to turn around from that river and sail away into the sea. Did he always think he had that in him, and wanted to go a little further? It was nice to borrow tourists eyes to see Newcastle, to really look, and be surprised, and wonder does anyone else know?

Thinking about mothers and daughters I am no wiser. I wonder what is it mother's want for their children and what do they want from them? So few know, but it would be smoother sailing if we did, if we had little contracts and could refer back to check.

One thing that used to be on my list was get a tattoo, I always had in my head the tat I wanted, but I told this to a friend, who has now got the same tat (so I feel a bit of Charlie now if I get that tat everyone will think I copied. ) What I'm thinking about tats is something with wings (though Clare Raynor ruined that word), and wondering if there is a part of my body I won't object to enough to decorate. I always thought about that place where your trousers and top sometimes don't meet for my tat, but my mate said it was so '94. Is that true? Is my arse really so horrendously out of date? : /