During the winter of 2023–24, I couldn't always afford to keep the heating on. I rented a small flat on Lipscomb Lane, in Shenley Church End, Milton Keynes. The heating ran on a prepayment meter. When the guy from the letting agency handed me the keys, I remember him trying to explain how to top it up. I was listening, but I didn't understand a word. What? Top up the meter? Corner shop? I'd never come across such a strange, old-fashioned system before.
Eventually, I realised that whenever the credit ran out, I had to go to the corner shop to top up the meter. It was expensive, and it didn't do much to warm the flat.
Sometimes it was so cold that even the olive oil in the kitchen began to solidify. I lived there for only six months, but I still have vivid memories of that time.
When I arrived, the flat was unfurnished, and my dear friend Jurate helped me furnish it with second-hand pieces. I've always been grateful for her help, and I still look back on those days with real affection.
I particularly remember a desk and an office chair we got from another friend whose office was closing down. The desk was the only table in the flat, so I used it for everything: eating, working and, above all, drawing. I also remember a cosy dark-green armchair we placed in one corner, and a traditional single bed with a white metal frame, a blue-patterned duvet cover and a thick white blanket on top.
Apart from when I was drawing at night, I always preferred soft lighting after dark. Bright lights have always bothered me, although I've never really understood why. Jurate also helped me find some lovely table lamps, candles and fairy lights to make the flat feel cosy in the evenings.
By mid-October, temperatures had started to drop and the days were getting shorter. The lamps made the flat look warm, but it was still cold inside. The neighbourhood was very quiet, although I remember a couple of pubs nearby. I started going to the local Harvester for a pint of Guinness after work.
Back home, I began spending more and more time in my bedroom, and drawing from bed gradually became part of my routine.
One drawing I remember particularly well is Starry Night at Lipscomb Lane. It was an especially cold night in December, one of those nights when the sky was perfectly clear and the stars seemed to hang in the darkness.
I couldn't sleep, so I decided to draw the view from my bed. There were some sports clothes hanging up, my wardrobe stood open, and my trainers were lying in a corner of the room. A lamp was on beside my bed, sitting on a black bedside table. Through the large windows, I could see the rooftops of nearby houses, the trees and, above all, the sky full of stars.
I finished the drawing that same night. My hands were cold, and looking at it now, I sometimes wonder whether that had something to do with the even more exaggerated perspective.
Despite the cold nights, I still look back on those six months with real affection. It wasn't a particularly productive time, although I managed to finish a couple of drawings. I remember stopping at the Harvester for a pint after work, Jurate coming round and the soft lighting that made the flat feel cosy.
In March 2024, I moved to Copenhagen and found a beautiful flat on Viborggade in Østerbro, with central heating and all the comforts I'd been missing. But even though my new home was much more comfortable, that small, cold flat on Lipscomb Lane has always held a special place in my heart.
Starry Night at Lipscomb Lane, 2023
Coloured pencil on paper
50 × 35 cm
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