
It’s been a while folks. Tax Credits disasters and grown up problems in the mum world have been causing much stress, car accidents and not too much time for writing. The ‘beeping’ Tax Credit office were not following their own … Continue reading
It’s been a while folks. Tax Credits disasters and grown up problems in the mum world have been causing much stress, car accidents and not too much time for writing. The ‘beeping’ Tax Credit office were not following their own … Continue reading
I’d like to be Urban. When I am Sarah Applewood the ‘Actress’ I do try and morph and camouflage myself into the East London Dalston Hackney living theatrical that lives in house share and goes to gig at trendy pubs and brick walled art studios. However there are too may signs that suggest Sarah Applewood ‘the Mum’ is more suburban than Urban. Sometimes that makes me happy. Sometimes it makes we want to shoot the breeze, hop on a plane and ride elephants in India.
Classic Signs of a Suburban Mum.
That’s it! Time for my prosecco.
I have just returned from glamping at the wonderful Cosy Under Canvas in Herefordshire with the wonderful Dan & Emma Price and their scrummy family. Tipis, glamping, four mums and 13 children. As the kids like to say ‘Epic’.
At first the idea of Wales made me shudder- the actress in me thought “no dahhhling- cagoules, wellington boots, rain, mud and sheep? A lot of sheep. And sheep poo. Pellet-like sheep poo. Cow poo. Animal poo. Just poo.”
However, I am what I like to call a champagne hippie. Yes, I do truly believe I was destined for a life time of paparazzi, glamour, gorgeous-ness, premieres, chanel, caviar and champagne, sprinkle a few diamonds on top and maybe an oscar and voila-perfectamuno!
But…. I am also a spiritual, hippy outside sort of person who loves getting down to the basics. Cooking on open fires with dew fresh on the grass, sitting round hypnotizing, roaring flames with a brood of firebug children singing to a ukulele, hot chocolate in hand, charred marshamallow on a whittled stick. It couldn’t get better. We were like a commune of prehistoric women, plaited hair, outside showers complete with a glass of bubbles or vino or Kopparberg rasberry cider of course.
We were close to dancing naked round the fire, holding hands and chanting at the moon but we refrained. Men were absent and viva-la women power we certainly were self sufficient and surviving without them! This was being a mum to the max. United by sawdust eco toilets (you had to wee in the front and poo in the back or just do your business down a big hole and hope a child hadnt fallen into the shit pile), owls hooting like night time banshees, children being speared in the cheek by pen-knife sharpened spear sticks and swimming wild in rushing rivers I think we all deserved the top parenting award.
By stark contrast I though I would show you the the other side of my life- glamping begins with ‘G’ so does guestbook. This was on my old website and after the Halifax advert was being played I received some interesting comments to say the least. I think this quote is a good opener.
Date & Time: |
02/09/2012 at 11:31 |
From: |
Kribber |
Subject: |
Oh Dear |
Comments: |
I have soiled myself reading this guestbook. |
This has to be one of the most entertaining guestbooks ever. Love it – pop by every couple of months for a look and a laugh. From this you’ll be able to see that I’m not obsessing on dear Sarah at all. More to follow in a later post on how I have converted my shed into a shrine to “the Halifax Girl” and on my collection of 500 handle-less mugs. Mwahhhh! |
People are just bonkers. It was the first time I realised the power of the television. I was only in a commercial advertising a bank! The advert was about 30 seconds long and yet I still have people ‘following’ me. It is lovely and flattering but at the same time its where having a stage name really is handy. It keeps my two lives separate because there are weird people out there. Check this out.
If you let it get to you it could be freaky right? What a strange two lives- poems about Cilit Bang and someone said I remind them on a baby tiger? I also have a folllwer on twitter who says he is happily married but he thinks about me everyday. One man travelled to see me in The Guinea Pig Club at York Theatre Royal and whilst I was supping champagne on the last night enquiring about this mans connection he said he was ‘X’ and thanks for inviting him backstage! He’d got past the lovely Hugo on stage door and come right on in. Luckily he was a lovely be- spectacled fellow and a gentle man but it did summon up images of axe wielding anti Halifax ad psychopaths that could have easily have ‘got me’ if they wanted to. I’m just a Mum- with a weird and wonderful life. I shall leave you with some more random posts… hmmmm.
24/04/2012 at 16:52 |
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Mr Happy’s Mate |
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Forgot to add |
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We watch your showreel on a 42″ TV and freeze it at 1′ 13″, we all stare at the screen and make interesting and witty observations about your quite staggering tits for many happy hours… by the way we are all reasonably attractive young chaps and not care-in-the-community perverts – thought you’d like to know. Must be off now.
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24/04/2012 at 12:19 |
Mr Happy |
Urgent Needs |
Felt the need to bash one out… many thanks to the Good Lord for issuing you with such wonderful tits. Praise Him..
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Combining being a Mama and an Actress can get a little bit odd. I never really thought that a jobbing actress would start to get a ‘following’. Within that ‘following’ I have had a few weird ones.
It was whilst I was performing at The Watermill Theatre in Newbury in Some Like It Hotter as the legendary Marilyn Monroe. This venue is completely one of my favourites. Nestled amongst grass green willows and luscious grounds, a lake, some ducks and a resident dog all make it like being on camp. Communal cooking, staying on site in quaint cottages and rehearsing live music and scripts around vaulted rooms and a beamed restaurant make it an actors haven and heaven.
The Watermill Theatre creates great shows that our audiences love. From our home in a converted Watermill in rural Berkshire, we have produced award-winning work that has been recognised throughout the UK and abroad. We have enjoyed West End transfers and national and international tours and given directors and creative teams the space to develop new work.
We are proud to be a leading force in cultivating the theatre-makers of tomorrow. Our ethos is based on a sense of community, with acting companies, stage management and creative teams living and working on site. This environment demands a commitment to the work that encourages a true sense of ensemble that is visible on stage. Our intimate, 220 seat auditorium also means that there is a remarkably strong connection between the actors and the audience making this theatre a very special place to visit.
I awoke one morning and rolled over sleepily to check my phone and email inbox. “ooohhh why has someone sent me a picture of their finger” I thought. Oh. Then the penny dropped.
That was no finger. That was a sorry excuse for a male penis. “This is how I was all through Wednesday night’s performance” it read. Wow. That was a first and very unexpected. How do you feel about that? I wasn’t quite sure. I guess it was almost quite flattering. I was clearly doing my job correctly as Marilyn Monroe but YUK!!! I have three children. I’m a Mum! That’s all kind of wrong. It’s also a little bit creepy. Who was this person? How did they get my email address? Am I going to have some psychotic, sex fiend knocking at the door of my powder blue family abode? Disturbing the tranquil Sunday morning with my family and the smell of bacon wafting through the house? Yikes.
It was suggested I report it. Apparently these sorts of people are more likely to expose themselves in public. I had an email address for them but chose not to. The next day I got a reply saying “Sorry about that, I was really drunk last night, I just think you’re hot” Well thanks mate. I’m definitely not used to such occurrences. Wiggly worms in cups in the kitchen after the kids have been hunting in the mud- but wiggly willies in my inbox? That’s a whole other story!