A moment that changed me: I’d lost my libido – then I saw Richard Ashcroft on stage and it came bursting back

‘I was going through a second puberty’ … Mel Hudson. Photograph: Jake Walters View image in fullscreen ‘I was going through a second puberty’ … Mel Hudson. Photograph: Jake Walters A moment that changed me Sex A moment that changed me: I’d lost my libido – then I saw Richard Ashcroft on stage and it came bursting back I was nearly 60 and hadn’t had sex in 10 years. And I was fine with that. But seeing the Verve’s former frontman reminded me how much fun it is to fancy someone

Prefer the Guardian on Google W hen the world entered lockdown in 2020, I’d just moved into a new flat where, at the age of 56, I found myself living alone for the first time in my life. I’d been separated for nearly a decade from the father of my two kids – one of whom had already flown the nest. The other was just starting at uni. So it was just me and my cat, Trinity, in what I now thought of as my “forever home” for one.

I’d embraced all those nice, selfish things about being single. I’d travelled alone, I ate when I wanted, went to bed when I felt like it, did housework only to please myself – and usually only in times of dire need. I reconnected with friends in a fresh way, as an individual. It felt empowering and less cluttered, after the years of motherhood and partnerdom. Mealtimes were at my own volition (well, and Trinity’s) and were a case of “Mmm, what shall I have?” rather than, “Oh God, what shall I do for tea?” I know people in decades-long relationships who would bite their own arm off for this level of autonomy.

But, after a couple of years of lockdowns and semi-lockdowns, I did get a bit lonely. I still didn’t want or need to “find a man”; it hardly seemed like an aspirational pursuit – and, crucially, I had no libido. I’d mostly raw-dogged menopause without the hormones, and although I knew that HRT was supposedly a raunch-reviver, I didn’t see the point in starting it just for that reason. I was stuck in an endless self-questioning loop: why try to get your libido back when you’ve got no partner? Why try to get a partner when you’ve got no libido?

Then, in August 2022, my friend Paul gave me a spare ticket to see Richard Ashcroft (former frontman of the Verve) at Crystal Palace Bowl in south London. What followed remains in my memory – drenched in a kind of iridescent golden light. It was a fine summer evening, and Paul did recently remind me that we shared a bottle of tequila on the way in – but I like to think that wasn’t the sole reason for my transformation that night.

View image in fullscreen Richard Ashcroft on stage in July 2024. Photograph: C Brandon/Redferns I arrived at the concert feeling less than enthused. My previous experience with gigs at the Bowl had been limited to phoning to tell them that the noise was making my kitchen island veer from side to side (my flat is close by).

Also, I wasn’t a particular fan of the Verve, although their 1997 album Urban Hymns had, coincidentally, been the last CD I’d bought before having my first baby – after which I’d never had time to listen to music again. I knew that Ashcroft had released lots of solo stuff since then and assumed he might focus mainly on that part of his oeuvre. But to my joy, he did play all those songs from the 90s – from before the mother-version of me – and maybe that was part of it. I found myself surging to the front, joining in with the singing, gazing up at Richard as if he were … an idol. My photos from the gig are a blur of white light with a bucket hat and a…