It's Maximum Music Monday and Gary Davies sits in with Graeme Hall

Like many, I’m a walking contradiction - I love deep philosophy, but take real joy in a chick-flick (this holiday I’ll be diving into “The Holiday” for the gazillionth time). But one contradiction I can’t shake is that my friends think I’m a domestic goddess, but I’m actually a really messy person. It’s literally the one thing I can’t sweep under the carpet. The threat of my mess being witnessed is always enough to make me whizz around the flat like a wired fairy godmother at five-to-midnight, frantically wrestling bags into cupboards and barging myself at wardrobe doors like a battering ram to stop all my clothes spilling out. And it works! 

When people come in, they say “ooh the flat looks nice,” whilst I pray that the hinges on the cupboard behind them don’t give way, burying them in my 2011 prom dress (and accompanying fake eyelashes). The truth is, the thought of people witnessing my mess is normally a bit mortifying, because I assume it will scare them away. So, the natural urge is to keep an illusion of order. But so often my own perception of how my secret clutter will be received doesn’t square with reality. Because there’s something about admitting that you haven’t got everything sorted that actually invites others in. Time and again, my friendships have been deepened by revealing a character flaw I thought would send them packing, or a moment of connection created from being vulnerable when it would have been easier to put a brave face on. 

Christian writer Mike Yaconelli says that it’s in the “mess”, “unfixedness”, and “brokenness of life” that humanity truly meets with God, and others. In other words, the things I most want to hide are actually the things that help me be truly seen, and loved. As psychology Guru Brene Brown puts it: it’s only in the very act of exposing “our messiest…most shattered… parts” that love itself emerges. So, as many pick up their brooms this holiday for a spring clean, I’ll stop kidding myself and put mine down, remembering to invite others into my mess. Because if Jude Law walking in on Cameron Diaz in sweatpants singing Mr Brightside has taught me anything, it’s that letting someone see you in an absolute state is often how the best relationships start.