@CarlBovisNature Oh definitely! My husband and I found you during the pandemic, and whilst I have always appreciated birds you brightened our days and fuelled what turned into an absolute obsession for both of us. Thank you 😍🐦⬛🦉
@KwikFitCS Thanks Haley. I’ve been back to the centre in question to speak to the manger - he wasn’t there, and so far has not returned my call. I’m grateful to have an additional avenue of complaint if he doesn’t get back to me.
Took my car to @Kwik_Fit for an oil change & new tyres. All tyres end up different pressures - fine, I can fix that.
Engine fault lights screaming all over the place driving home, eventually discover they’d failed to put the oil cap back on.
What a bunch of complete morons.
@GreenFlagUK He was absolutely fab, a testament to your team.
Also huge thanks to #AudiFarnborough for suggesting I ring my breakdown cover provider for advice and diagnostics 👌
Rest in peace, Patricia Routledge 🙏🏻
In memory of her, I encourage everyone to read these words of hers from February last year.
Whether young or old, you're bound to get something out of it.
*****
"I’ll be turning 95 this coming Monday. In my younger years, I was often filled with worry — worry that I wasn’t quite good enough, that no one would cast me again, that I wouldn’t live up to my mother’s hopes. But these days begin in peace, and end in gratitude.
My life didn’t quite take shape until my forties. I had worked steadily — on provincial stages, in radio plays, in West End productions — but I often felt adrift, as though I was searching for a home within myself that I hadn’t quite found.
At 50, I accepted a television role that many would later associate me with — Hyacinth Bucket, of Keeping Up Appearances. I thought it would be a small part in a little series. I never imagined that it would take me into people’s living rooms and hearts around the world. And truthfully, that role taught me to accept my own quirks. It healed something in me.
At 60, I began learning Italian — not for work, but so I could sing opera in its native language. I also learned how to live alone without feeling lonely. I read poetry aloud each evening, not to perfect my diction, but to quiet my soul.
At 70, I returned to the Shakespearean stage — something I once believed I had aged out of. But this time, I had nothing to prove. I stood on those boards with stillness, and audiences felt that. I was no longer performing. I was simply being.
At 80, I took up watercolour painting. I painted flowers from my garden, old hats from my youth, and faces I remembered from the London Underground. Each painting was a quiet memory made visible.
Now, at 95, I write letters by hand. I’m learning to bake rye bread. I still breathe deeply every morning. I still adore laughter — though I no longer try to make anyone laugh. I love the quiet more than ever.
I’m writing this to tell you something simple:
Growing older is not the closing act. It can be the most exquisite chapter — if you let yourself bloom again.
Let these years ahead be your TREASURE YEARS.
You don’t need to be famous. You don’t need to be flawless.
You only need to show up — fully — for the life that is still yours.
With love and gentleness,
Patricia Routledge
*****
Once more, rest in peace. 🤍
Random yet quite brilliant #MS fact:
“It has been suggested that the origins can be traced back to the Vikings who
colonised those parts of Northern
Europe where MS is now most
pronounced and that ‘Viking’
genes can make people particularly
susceptible to MS.” ~MS Trust UK
@CarlBovisNature Hundreds of them, and the grubs (or nymphs) are terrifying! We found a whole roost of them at work under a log, seriously vicious critters!
When you get bloods taken so frequently that the phlebotomy nurse knows the names of your cats, and even if you’re with another nurse she pops in for a catch up 😹
Today my annual neurology checkup was with yet another different specialist, at a different hospital an hour’s drive away. She was awful…unsympathetic, unhelpful, disinterested…an utterly pointless episode.
Really glad I took a whole day off work to feel like crap.
#thisisMS
As I sit in the car trying to pull pigeon poo out of my hair with a tissue, I can only hope that it’s a good omen for this week’s work trip that I’ve been absolutely dreading.