Oh well hi there! Welcome to The Museum of Sarah. Pop yourself on an ornate cushion, help yourself to tea and take a little look around.

The Museum is a showcase of gorgeous things, clothing, homewares and miscellaneous items that have caught my eye, curated for you to delve into. Always colourful and occasionally garnish, these bits and bobs are accompanied by stories of how they came into my possession or why I wish they would.

There are also my own articles, words and general musings for a bit of light reading while you’re here.

I have wanted to do a blog like this for so long, to create a place for all the things I love. Some I already own and others are things I’ve seen or found which made me squeal so I have to tell you about them.

A few months ago my friend Tess came round to my flat. She hadn’t been here since I moved in so was having a good look at my shelves full of knick knacks, teacups, flamingo glasses and elaborate footwear. “It’s like The Museum of Sarah!” she exclaimed whilst fingering a gold pineapple trinket pot. I declared that evening, after several Disaronnos, that I would create The Museum and I am delighted that here we are in it.

I have always loved big colours. My style is somewhere between a summer fete, Skittles and Dame Edna. When I was 15 I painted all the furniture in my bedroom powder blue and wrote song lyrics all over them in black marker pen. It didn’t look great but it made me VERY happy.

Ever since then I have refused to believe things need to be cream, pine or neutral. Kitchen utensils don’t have to be stainless steel, door knobs don’t have to be brass and truly, nothing has to be brown. In my kitchen I have a bright pink clothes airer, a teal mixing spoon and a yellow kettle. In fact I’m currently gazing at a bright pink colander hanging over the hob and it makes me ecstatic.

I’ve been asked why everything I own has to be quite so loud and I think it’s just because life can be very serious. Work, careers, exercise, dates, plans, figuring when you can and can’t have cake. It’s exhausting. It’s a joy to look up from doing emails and see a rainbow tea cosy on my shelf. It’s a relief from how draining everything can be.

As well as the high street and big stores, I love independent shops and brands as they usually have the most exciting and unconventional things. I’m also really interested in British made products and companies so there is a whole section of The Museum to celebrate these brands called A Brit Excellent.

This blog is a celebration of the things I love and the story behind them. Wherever possible I’ll show you where I got things from and link to items you can buy. There will also be other gorgeous things showcased on my instagram, where I’ll be using the hashtag #TheMuseumofSarah if you want more.

The Museum doors are now open, I’m very excited you’re here.


If you’re a regular listener to Jules and Sarah the podcast, you’ll know how enriched your life is by it. You’ll also know that I have mice. Not personally, more in the house, where I live, so now they are kind of mine. Jules has taken to calling all of them Stuart Little and now I have as well. This is partly to fool myself into thinking there’s only one but also to laugh about it rather than thinking what they might or might not have crawled over. Stuart has become very cheeky. He’s been trotting through at all times of the day or night and watched I’m a Celeb with us the other night. Something has got to be done.

Several people, including my mother June, have said getting a cat is the only way. Someone else said the smell of a cat alone is enough but it seems odd to ask to borrow people’s cats so I’ve decided to get one. (An aside: June says cats frighten mice so much they actually have smaller litters which I love as a fact.)


Cakes! Charity! Eating cakes!

On Thursday it’s Cupcake Day with The Alzheimer’s Society so you can bake cake, buy cake, get your mates round for cake or just eat cake.Basically it’s cupcakes that do good so everyone wins. You can download a kit to do it all or just donate right here babes.

So I baked! I baked for the first time in 15 years and yes a toddler could have iced them better but the point is I baked and if I can, my word you can.

Here’s a video of the whole experience…


I wrote a little something for The Huffington Post about my new found love of lemon curd. Lovely gorgeous lemon curd and my journey through picky eating to find it.

I never liked lemon curd when I was little, though the truth is I had never tried it. I was yet to discover the joys of tuna, brown sauce, green beans, mayonnaise, tomatoes, cold custard and spaghetti carbonara simply because I had decided I didn’t like the look of them. Besides, my little sister had decided she loved lemon curd and so the family foods were allocated. She would always have lemon curd and I would have Bovril. My Bovril later became Marmite as it was decided our household should “give up” Bovril for health purposes. The theory behind this I’m still not clear on.



On and off for the last 10 years I have suffered with anxiety, which sounds fun doesn’t it?! I’ve actually only recently realised that it’s been that long, because for most of that I was walking around, going to work, getting on saying everything was fine when actually it wasn’t, it was a bit crap. To be clear, it wasn’t dreadful all day every day. I could go for weeks or months feeling alright and then it would creep up on me, seemingly out of nowhere and take over. 

I have had days where I have been shaking and felt sick with anxiety. I have cried in the toilets on trains and at work with it. A lot of the time I was holding it together as “fun, happy Sarah” whilst my mind was full of bad chat. I told myself I was rubbish and looked at everyone else being carefree and just getting on with it and wished I could be as good as them.

I would leave conversations with people I love thinking, “I’ve behaved so oddly they’ve probably changed their mind about hanging out with me.” I would meet new people and the sirens in my mind would go off that I was being weird and not myself and these people would know that and think I was ridiculous. Simple decisions became really tough. Deciding where to sit in a restaurant would be totally daunting and I was once found screwed up in a ball because deciding what to wear was too much. 

While one side of my mind was going through this, the other side would argue back “what did you have to complain about? Your life is amazing! How can you have the right to say you’re scared and you’re struggling?” which was remarkably unhelpful and made everything worse. The whole thing would repeat over and over and it became completely exhausting and very very boring. I was done with it and bored beyond belief with being rubbish. 

I never wanted to tell anyone about my anxiety because they might think I was a bit heavy or moany or ironically, boring. So I thought, “I’ll wait until I’m fixed and can be carefree and happy and normal all the time!” Turns out, this doesn’t exist. So I decided to stop trying to fight it and started to address it. I spoke to people about it. I told the people I loved about it and explained it. I found meditation and though it will always have to be managed, I’m now in control of it and not the other way round.

Writing this now I still feel guilty and tell myself there are people in a much worse position than me, people with “legitimate” reasons for their mental health conditions. But the truth is, it’s ok to say I’m not ok. If you feel scared for no reason or there’s a voice that’s telling you you’re rubbish and everyone else is fine or better, I want to tell you, you are enough. You are SO enough and you don’t have to live with feeling crap.