Jellyfish Blues

Mary, a relatively new character in Coronation Street, who is a perfect mix of comedy and terror said, in this evenings episode, ‘Without passion we may as well be Jellyfish’.

Is she right?

It is possible to be passionate about many things; food, music, sport, religion and, of course, the more obvious - good old sex. On one hand Mary is right; a life lived without passion is the life of a Jellyfish. And who would want to be a Jellyfish? I mean do Jellyfish have any worthwhile purpose in life?

It seems that Tom Jones is still passionate about music and if anyone is going to knock Emenim of the top spot in the album chart I am glad it is Tom. I can still remember my mother behaving in a very unmotherly way (more than usual that is) whenever Tom came on the radio but I can’t help but feel somewhat saddened to read that Tom says he has lost his passion for fucking groupies. This is a man who personified sexual passion. It was evident in his voice, the sway of his hip, the glint in his eye. A passionate man. His passion for music is audible in every note, his connection with the rhythm is obvious in every move he makes and, back in the day, the way he looked at his audience transmitted passion to his female fans, many of whom were whipped up into a state of ecstasy. So much so that lots of damp knickers were hurled in his direction. I was going to write his ‘long suffering’ wife must be relieved his hormones have packed up and left the building but I don’t imagine she was ‘long suffering’ for a moment. In every interview where Tom talks about his wife Linda if is clear that he loves her very much. But she doesn’t seem to have evoked his sexual passion. And it would seem that of all the passions the sexual passion is the first on to go.

"When you get older you're not as horny as you were when you were young and that's a fact," he said. "There's got to be an upside to growing old and that side of my life is not important any more, like it was."

"My wife and me still love each other dearly. We're growing old together. I'm not out and about clubbing like I used to be and that's a good thing. You can't. It's impossible. The desire to do all the shit just isn't there any more."

The "What's New Pussycat" hit maker also admits he doesn’t know how much longer he can go on in the music industry but insists he doesn't worry too much about what the future holds.

"With getting older, time is getting shorter and that's the problem," he added in an interview with The Sun newspaper. "It's a fact. I don't know how long I can go on. It's not like when I was 50. But I'm not going to moan about it because I'm still singing and I'm still doing it and it's hasn't affected me yet."

I don’t want to stop being passionate about music, books, knowledge, sex or life itself. But if sexual passion fades as one grows older I suppose that doesn't make you a Jellyfish. Providing your life is filled with other passions.

A friend and I had planned to go along to a woman's writing seminar due to be held in a posh London hotel at the end of this month and when we tried to book tickets today we were surprised to find that it was fully booked. It seems the whole of London is filled with women who write. When my friend originally suggested we go along I asked 'Do we have to bring proof we write?' and I was relieved to find that 'they' apparently take us at face value. We pays our money, attend the 'Women Writers' seminar and that makes us women who write. As the tickets are quite expensive I guess they don't want to put any potential amateur female writers off. Fired up with the offer of wine, nibbles and the chance to meet other like minded people I have suggested we gatecrash if we fail to get tickets. Strange I am prepared to do that but still haven't plucked up the courage to show anyone my work. My friend reckons that every woman believes she has a book inside her but very few of us have the discipline to write it, the talent to make it readable, or even have an interesting story to tell, or one that differs from the 'confessions' of all the other women with pens in their hands. Not long after this conversation, in a moment of synchronicity, my attention was drawn to an article that appeared in the Observer over the weekend:

'True confessions in new women's lit ' Candace Bushnell's Sex and the City columns inspired some dire chick lit, but also a generation of more serious young writers'

I imagine SATC has also inspired a lot of middle aged, or even old women, to put pen to paper. I imagine the seminar will be filled with it's fair share of women whose necks resemble that of a turkey (Nora Ephron 'I Feel Bad About My Neck: And Other Thoughts on Being a Woman'), and women who spend more on a pair of shoes than I do on a months rent (Candance Bushnell 'Sex and the City'). Not to mention all those women who write about their horrendous childhoods. Now that would be a depressing couple of hours. Do I have a USP? Do I need one? Maybe for me the act of writing is enough. The sharing bit may be a step too far. Sharing means taking a leap of faith, it means admitting you have something important to say, something worthwhile. The stuff I write may not be the sexy, poignant, funny, sad, insightful, revealing, passionate stuff that, on a good day, I think it is. It might just be dire confessional chick lit that lots of women write and I am too old for that. But I am NOT a Jellyfish.