How do you do, PWP?

Or, more intriguingly - how do you do it? I know you're out there. I've met a few of you. But I can't for the life of me understand what drives you. Or not, as it were.

Passionately posing for a picture, 1985

Now, I would walk 10 miles afoot, to look at the house of someone who once met Rufus Wainwright's neighbour. I admit it freely, I'm that sad obsessive interested. I would refrain from all other forms of shopping (that used to include food - before I had others to care for...) - for life, if need be - if that enabled me to get tickets to every Rufus, de Lillos, Sting or U2 gig there was - or to as many visits as I'd like to Berlin, Lisbon, Crete... I would give my right hand (and left arm!) for Liverpool to win another cup - let alone the premiership!

Passionately back in Greece! (I was 14 - what can I say...)


I would (and I have, in fact!) spend 8 months passionately wooing my chosen one until he broke down and promised to marry me...

But you, People Without Passion... You wouldn't even go next door to see the first alien-human offspring, would you? You like all kinds of music, you say. Any town you visit is as fine as the next. And caring about football is just plain silly...



I can't help but wonder - do you [not] have fun in the same way? Polite ha-has, no guffawing or even small giggle fits? And relationships, do you really care? "Sure, I loved him, but hey, I'll meet somebody else." Are you for real? Or are you lurking somewhere underneath, quenched by real life, chores and routines, and too weak to find a way out? Are you living, or are you just ... alive?