"It is a sad but unavoidable fact of life that as we age our social circles grow smaller. Whether from increased habit or diminished vigour, we suddenly find ourselves in the company of just a few familiar faces..."
A Gentleman in Moscow
I don’t understand why you all dissing him in the comment section, you guys should rather check yourselves for allowing this guy to influence you all at the very first place, you watch the video very well aaa you go see say he is not even a smart guy… leave him alone
🇬🇭⚡️ Antoine Semenyo (25) in the Premier League for Bournemouth this season...
• ⚽️⚽️ vs Liverpool
• 🅰️ vs Wolves
• ❌ vs Tottenham
• ⚽️🅰️ vs Brighton
• ❌ vs Newcastle
• ⚽️ vs Leeds
• ⚽️⚽️🅰️ vs Fulham
9 goal contributions in 7 matches.
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. 🤍
“Man shouldn’t be able to see his own face — there’s nothing more sinister.
Nature gave him the gift of not being able to see it, and of not being able to stare into his own eyes.
Only in the water of rivers and ponds could he look at his face. And the very posture he had to assume was symbolic. He had to bend over, stoop down, to commit the ignominy of beholding himself.
The inventor of the mirror poisoned the human heart.”
— Fernando Pessoa
The part of Orwell's 1984 that everyone forgets is how human music has been replaced by soulless, machine-generated pop songs. The AI attempt to take over the film and music industries is an attack on the human spirit. Boycott AI actors. Boycott AI bands. Support human artists.
Saw someone say, “Stop hoarding books, we don’t need paper books anyway” and I can’t express how misguided this is. Online libraries disappear, digital books can be altered, and with Big Tech seeking to destroy history and literacy, print media has never been more essential.