One of my earliest memories from when I was young was sitting with my Grandad in his armchair and looking down at his anchor tattoos on his arms and asking why he had them. His would gently laugh and tell me stories of serving the country he loved but also of how much he missed my Grandma whilst he was at sea, so he carried a small portrait of her in his pocket. Her love was then with him forever. I was always glued to these stories and how love could be carried around, in your pocket, wherever you may go.
