Listen To Your Heart?

The heart.  Big-screen star of Disney, Hallmark and  The Love Channel.  Soft, fluffy and shaped like Jennifer Aniston. Gets you into a sticky pickle at times, but hey – you gotta follow it – right into the waiting arms of Mr Right. (Or, failing that, Mr He’ll Do while I Wait For Brad).

Of course, all this heart stuff is a whole lotta bunkum. I’d sooner follow an axe-wielding stranger  into the basement than listen to mine.  For one thing, it’s a despot.  Give it a little  space and before you know it, you’re the star of your very own Celine Dion video, yearning your socks off in a wind tunnel of Emotion. My heart is less ‘lovable ingenue’, more ‘crazed stalker’. When it sees something it wants it goes howling after it in hot pursuit, only to lose interest and then fire off again in the opposite direction.

Kate Moss  walked down the aisle to the tune of ‘You can’t always get what you want’ – and as I said to her at the reception, ‘that is like, so true’.   But I’m thankful this is the case.  For starters, I’d have the proportions of Barbie – which would make standing up difficult, let alone walking. I’d be married to a ninja-kicking secret agent who wouldn’t have time to help me complete my crosswords or make me tea when I’m feeling low. What with my glittering rock career I’m sure I’d have a couple of Grade A habits and all my sartorial disasters on tape.  I’d be successful and beautiful – but I wouldn’t be me. And I’d have edited out all the tough stuff that’s taught me the value of other people, of life and most of all, Jesus.

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