Just Jules

Some people are never happy, are they? Take my neighbour M, for example. No, seriously, please someone take her. Noisy neighbours are a pain and they can make  life hell. But despite M’s protestations and opinions, I am not a noisy neighbour.

In what must have been an oversight on my landlord’s part, my Victorian conversion flat doesn’t come complete with zero gravity. Nor  is there a series of chains and pulleys dangling from the ceiling from which I can swing from A to B without touching the ground. Bad, inconsiderate  landlord! It means that I have to walk from room to room, much to the despair of M, who can apparently hear me stomping  around on a regular basis. All 5ft 2, 8st of me. Oh, how those floorboards must groan under my weight.

In a recent episode, being a decent person, I called M to say that I was having four friends over to stay and would be coming in late. She huffed and puffed at my news, saying that it was noisy enough with just me in the flat.

Now let’s get something straight. Firstly, I was being considerate in letting her know I was having friends over. Secondly, I was under no obligation to do so, and thirdly, I did not sign up to a life of solitude when I moved in. I’m out for 12 hours a day, come home at 8pm, have dinner, watch TV, then go to bed, ready to start all over again the next day. No parties. No loud music. No practising Ten Green Bottles on a French horn. What can I possibly be doing that is driving my neighbour to distraction? Oh, that must be it, breathing.

Of course, insulation could be better in many homes and people should be mindful of the fact,  but I could be a stay-at-home mum with a youngster toddling around. I could be playing loud music all day. I could be making mad passionate love all night with a guy who screams my name (or that of his favourite football team) every time he shoots and scores. M doesn’t know how fortunate she is to have me.

When my friends and I got home after our Saturday night out, we sat happily reflecting on the evening. No music, no TV, no Mexican wave across the living room. Then we began to blow up the makeshift air bed. Suddenly the phone rang and it was M from downstairs ranting about all the noise we were making, the constant thumping on the ceiling and that I was being selfish. Get. A. Life.
Now M is selling up and moving on. With her acute sensitivity to, and zero tolerance of, noise of any description,  why she lived in a basement flat, I’ll never know. She’s probably off to live in a lighthouse. Jesus, I hope the sea behaves itself.

In central Brighton? Need a break for breakfast, coffee and a catch-up, some pasta or a panini?  Then head down to Nick & Franco’s in Brighton Square for a tasty treat. And while you’re there with your mates and your mocha, or tucking into Sussex sausage and scrambled eggs, take a look around the cafe and you’ll see a selection of photographs by local artist Julie Milton. The prints feature scenes from Brighton and Venice and are available to buy from £35. Go on, make Jules happy and  grab some photos along with your food!

Nick & Franco’s, 12 Brighton Square,  Brighton  BN1 1HD. Tel:  01273 723522

Yes, it’s that time of the year again! Artists Open Houses, which sees Sussex artists displaying their work and inviting the public into their homes will run at weekends during May.

The popular event is the perfect opportunity for artists to showcase their art and for the public to buy some original pieces. This year I will be exhibiting my photographs of Brighton, Paris and Venice at the Vehicle Testing Station in Hove. It will be my fourth Open House appearance and I’m looking forward to sharing studio space with other artists. As well as photographic prints, a range of paintings, stencils and street art will also be on show.

If you fancy a day at the seaside with the added bonus of looking around other people’s homes, then Artists Open Houses is for you. See you there!

To see my Hove Arts home page, go to www.hovearts.co.uk, click on ‘Artists’, then ‘Julie Milton’. The Hove Arts website also has details of all venues and artists on the Hove Arts trail.

Venue: Vehicle Testing Station, 20 Cambridge Grove, Hove BN3 3ED.

Opening times: 11-6pm weekends of 1-2, 8-9, 15-16 and 22-23 May. 

For details on Hove Arts, visit www.hovearts.co.uk

For details on Artists Open Houses, visit www.aoh.org.uk

If I can see a star that’s 32 million light years away, how come I have to squint these days to read the calorie count on a M&S ready meal?

I recently joined a well-known internet dating site – let’s call it Match.com. I’ve had 170 hits so far and things are shaping up nicely. That’s to say the six or seven men who have contacted me, I’ve politely not pursued, and the six or seven men I’ve contacted, haven’t replied. That’s what us Librans like. A sense of balance.

But there was one guy I did make contact with. Let’s call him Stan. I checked out Stan’s profile and sent him an e-mail. He replied saying that he wanted to meet me and thought I was ‘hot’. 

Now, I’ve been called ‘cute’, ‘funny’, ‘creative’ and ‘intelligent’ (all right, so I lied about the ’intelligent’), but never ‘hot’. OK, so Stan may use that line on all the girls, but it was a cheesy remark that made my little heart flutter like a lifeguard’s flag on a windy day. 

We arranged to meet for coffee on Saturday. So there I was standing outside a well-known coffee establishment – let’s call it Costa – waiting for my date. And waiting. And waiting. After half an hour shivering in the winter sunshine I decided that Stan wasn’t the only one with cold feet and called it a day.

Back at home I checked my e-mails to find Stan had written that morning saying he’d had to work and couldn’t make it. Unfortunate, but it happens. He suggested dinner to make up for it, but I said that would be difficult during the week with me working in London, and that perhaps coffee at the weekend would be best.

No reply.

I wrote again four days later asking if he was still up for coffee, but as of today there’s nothing except  lovelorn tumbleweed blowing gently through my inbox. Stan is obviously the strong, silent type.

The word on the street is that I’ve been ‘chucked before fu**ed’, but being a romantic, and because my mother may read this, I prefer to say that I was ‘dismissed before  kissed’. Although, I admit, the word on the street’s version does have a certain ring to it.

Poor Stan. Now he’ll never know that he would have fallen hopelessly in love with me on our first date. He would have smiled as he gently brushed away the sticky, perfectly formed crescent of cocoa powder that I’d branded between my eyebrows after draining my cappuccino. Now he’ll never read the love poems I would have left in his pockets or feel my arm slide gently around his waist as we sat watching repeats of Come Dine with Me. Stan, it’s a cruel world.

So now it’s back to the searching. Match.com sends me five new ‘matches’ every day, but of late, accompanying my would-be suitors is a strange, scratching noise that gets louder with every batch. Oh, yes, I recognise the sound now. It’s the scraping of the bottom of a barrel as the Match.com computer tries desperately to pair me up with that special someone. 

Could I really have exhausted the supply of single men in a 25-mile radius of Brighton in a month? Seems so. Now I’m being sent profiles of men who live in Aberdeen and an urgent request from the Match.com computer to ‘edit my profile’, thus widening my love net.

But there isn’t much of my profile I can change. Basically, I’ve said that I’m a Penelope Cruz lookalike who pole-dances in her spare time and has just finished researching her new book, How To Make Your Man Happy In Bed. 

I know, it’s a lousy profile. No wonder I’m not having any luck. Perhaps I need to sex it up a bit. Maybe say that I’m a stamp-collecting trainspotter who stays in on Sunday evenings to watch Lark Rise To Candleford. 

It’s Valentine’s Day. I could have been spending it having my eyebrows licked clean of cappuccino by a man called Stan who thought I was hot. Instead, I’m writing this and updating my Virgin Media phone and broadband package. Like I said, it’s a cruel world.

It’s been a roller coaster of a few months. Sleeping in strange positions and fumbling in the dark. But enough about my love life. Remember that trip to the Seychelles I won? Took my friend Pat and although it wasn’t a holiday I’d choose, we landed on Mahe ready for some serious R&R.

After receiving a warm welcome from staff at the exclusive resort, we were escorted to our hillside villa complete with Indian Ocean views. But just as we were unpacking, something big and buzzing flew past, brushing my head as it went. I knew what it was. I have roach radar. I also have a phobia about cockroaches and I figured one had come to personally welcome us to the island. Despite my reservations about a tropical trip, my friends had told me not to worry about cockroaches.

‘But I’ve come across them in New York, Palm Springs, Greece, St Lucia…’ I said. ‘They live there.’ My friends wouldn’t listen. After all, I was staying in a five-star resort. There wouldn’t be any. So when I’d only been in our villa ten minutes and I’d almost kissed one, I flipped, crying and shaking uncontrollably. Later, when the dust and DDT had settled, Pat would inform me in her usual calm manner that I sounded just like the little girl in Poltergeist  as I blurted out between sobs: ‘They’re here!’

After a tearful call to reception, what I didn’t know was that Pat wasn’t a big fan of lizards and as we were waiting for staff to remove the offending creature, the cockroach was on the wall behind me and a lizard had scampered up beside it to see what all the fuss was about. At this point Pat was also shaking in her sandals and sarong.
And that was the sorry start to a very sorry tale. From then on, our balcony doors were kept shut day and night should creepies come a-crawling and every evening staff sprayed and checked the villa. It wasn’t that the place was dirty — it was absolutely fine — it was just that we were in a jungle environment and believe me, it was a jungle out there.

666 may be the number of the beast, but 110 is the number of the villa the staff at our resort won’t forget in a hurry. Apparently they all knew about our strange behaviour but remained helpful to the end. As for the Seychelles, it’s beautiful, but it rained every day (although I grabbed a few shots just before we left — see the Travel Gallery). I spent my bedtimes unable to sleep, curled up foetus-fashion and wrapped from head to toe in a sheet with my nose poking out to breathe in the warm air, heavy with incense and bug spray. We were scared to turn the light off for fear of fumbling with insect intruders and I lost weight through sheer fright. You won’t believe how glad I was to get back home.

And just as I was recovering from my ordeal on The Island That Insects Invaded, it was straight into the Brighton Festival’s Artists Open Houses. Over the space of a month I caught another bug. Open House Fever. Along with a team of artists I spent my weekends in May at Our Beautiful Maisonette in Hove, talking about my work to the general public who came to admire the exhibits and to sign the visitors’ book.
And it wasn’t my mum, honest, who wrote: ‘Fantastic!’, ‘Gorgeous!’ and ‘Julie Milton’s photography does not let you walk by. Excellent!’ It was an enjoyable experience that boosted my confidence — people liked my photos enough to buy them — and I’m grateful to have been a part of it. I’m so inspired I’m already getting new work together for Christmas Open Houses (see News page for details).

As for the website, it’s also attracted a lot of positive feedback and compliments. People say it’s easy to navigate and use. They even like the mix of pix and poems, so to all who have passed on their comments, thank you. And just when I thought my 15 minutes of fame was over, a colleague from the magazine’s picture desk saw me at Euston tube station on Friday night and shouted: ‘Hey, Jules! Your website. It’s proper Bo!’ And I reckon that’s as good as it gets.

After living in a black-and-white world in London for what seemed a life time I grabbed my bucket and spade and a month’s advance rent, and ran away to the seaside, where I now live in glorious technicolour and 100 per cent happiness. But technicolour has its grey side.

Every week I travel 500 miles up and down the same stretch of railway line to Victoria and my media job in Camden. It has to be done. Brighton offers a cappuccino and culture lifestyle with beer and Big Mac wages, so until that changes, the bucks start there.

So I’m a single girl working in the media and living by the sea. And because people expect me to lead a single girl, working in the media and living by the sea rock ’n’ roll life, that’s exactly what I do. To this end I can often be spotted checking out the calorie content of custard tarts in Waitrose, queuing in the post office for a self-seal padded envelope or poring over the pressure management chapter in my combi boiler’s instruction book.

Of course I could tell you about my first art exhibition, the freebie holiday to The Seychelles, being a guest exhibitor in May’s Artists Open Houses in Brighton, or kissing Alan Carr in front of a roomful of strangers, but I tend to keep things like that under my hat. Like to keep things real. Know what I mean?

And keeping it as real as it gets this week, along with most of the passengers of the 7.47 to Victoria, for which I can personally vouch after having been subjected to their sniffs, coughs and Kleenexes all winter, I’ve been hit by the flu. I struggled at work, tried my best not to sneeze all over my computer screen or cough over the coffee cups, then had to give in and spent Thursday and Friday on my back in bed. OK, so these days I’m more Karma Chameleon than Karma Sutra, but I’ve been in better positions under more becoming circumstances, I can tell you.

Too weak to leave the house, I’ve spent my sentence watching daytime TV and now know exactly who to contact should I ever need car insurance, want to sue someone or require a stair lift in an emergency.
Not sure if it’s the flu or a diet of Jerry Springer that’s given me a headache, but today, still a little shaky and shivery, I venture out into the wintery sunlight. I make it to the beach, the biting wind and the sea’s relentless glare making my eyes water, and take in the air.

As I sit reading about the binmen strike in the local paper, a busker plays the theme tune to Cagney & Lacey on his saxophone, a dog scampers past with a pink balloon tied to its collar and I hear a woman say: ‘There’s coffee AND toilets here. Great!’
I award myself a secret smile. The flu might have taken my fervour and left me with fever, but it looks as if my rock ’n’ roll lifestyle’s back with a vengeance.

There’ll be blogs here on a regular basis. I hope you’ll join me.

Artists Open Houses, the popular Brighton event in which artists open their homes to the public, is running at weekends throughout May. If you’d love a day by the sea, free viewings of unique art, and of course, the chance to look around other people’s houses, it’s a winning combination!This will be Julie Milton’s third Open House, and this year she’ll be exhibiting with fellow artists at Fred & Ginger’s (part of the Hove Arts trail) in Hove. As well as Julie’s photographs of Brighton, there will be life drawings, ceramics, textiles and jewellery to admire and buy. See you there!Venue: Fred & Ginger’s, 3a Salisbury Road, Hove, East Sussex. Dates: Weekends of May (2-3, 9-10, 16-17, 23-24). 

Still wondering what to get that special someone for Christmas? Looking for a unique gift that you won’t find on the high street? Then get down to Five Second Avenue, Hove, for a host of visual treats and festive fun.Artists Christmas Open Houses sees local artists opening their homes to the public and exhibiting their work. The team at Flat 9, Five Second Avenue will be showcasing a fine selection of their photographs, paintings, jewellery and ceramics — all available to buy at competitive prices.Following her successful run in May’s Artists Open Houses, Julie Milton will be unveiling a new range of photographs at the venue. Julie says: ‘I’m very proud to be part of this exciting event and I look forward to seeing old friends and greeting new ones. Don’t miss out on Five Second Avenue — it’s sure to be a Christmas cracker!’Venue: Flat 9, 5 Second Avenue, Hove.Dates: December 6th-7th and 13th-14th.Opening times: 11am-6pm.For further information on Artists Christmas Open Houses, go to www.aoh.org.uk

Julie’s involvement with Artists Open Houses in May was a resounding success and she hopes that it will pave the way for many AOH appearances. Exhibiting at Our Beautiful Maisonette in Hove, Julie and her fellow guest artists welcomed visitors, discussed the work on show — and sold a great deal of it!Denying that her mother had written the many positive comments about her photographs in the visitors’ book, since the event Julie has taken to wearing a kiss-me-quick hat and dark glasses in a bid to throw the local paparazzi off her trail.We caught up with Julie near the dairy cabinet in Brighton Marks & Spencer, where she told us: ‘I’d like to thank the artists and all the visitors who made my first Open House so wonderful and inspiring. It was a fantastic opportunity anda very special experience. I’m already looking forward to the next one. Er, do you know where they’ve moved the semi-skimmed milk to?’Julie is planning to take part in Christmas Open Houses, held the weekends of 6-7 and 13-14 December 2008. Watch this space for venue details or go to the Artists Open Houses website at www.aoh.org.uk for further information later in the year.