If you’re an EYFS teacher you will know how vital Danny Go is. It’s part of the essence of being in EYFS for those well needed movement breaks. I am deeply sad to hear the news today about his loss. My thoughts go out to him and his wife. So much love for all they do & have lost
*One month before her 95th birthday, Patricia Routledge wrote something that still gently echoes:*
**“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 watercolor 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
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. 🤍
The most debated, quietly stigmatized, yet deeply isolating topic on the internet:
Depression.
It’s why small tasks seem huge, every day feels like an uphill battle, and even sleep leaves you exhausted.
Here’s the latest science on depression—and how to beat it for good:🧵
📢Our education system is broken!
Buildings are crumbling, colleagues leave in their droves and our children suffer because of it.
🗳️I pledge to #Vote4Education on Thursday🗳️
RT if you agree with me! #GE24#VoteEducation
The Aurora did not fail to disappoint on Friday in Oldham. 💙💜🩵 What a stunning show. 😍Can’t wait for the next one. (Photo credit goes to my friend, but still, I was there too!) 📸 #NorthernLights#auroraborealis#aurora#oldham
The #Aurora last night was incredible!
One of the most impressive things about last night was the buzz and excitement on social media.
It was fun and friendly with no hate, negativity or politics.
It has filled me with hope for the future of social media.
I hope we get to do it again later.
Our emotions, past experiences, and unresolved trauma shows up within our body.
They can show up as "mystery illness", autoimmune disorders, or chronic pain.
Here's Why: