Filed under: Advertising, Age, Aspiration, Attitude & Aptitude, Authenticity, Career, Cliches, Emotion, Empathy, Mum, Mum & Dad, My Childhood, Prejudice, Pride
I’m back … well, at least in terms of this blog.
And while last week was a detour from what it was supposed to be, it ended up being very important given the rollercoaster I experienced with my health and some other stuff. But the good news is the help and support I received from so many has helped set me up for a slightly batshit crazy week [in a good way] the week after next – before a truly once-in-a-lifetime stupid week in early 2026 which – which for an impatient-as-fuck only child, is about as big a compliment as I can give.
Yes, I get that’s a big call, but how can it not be when it involves a true global legend/icon/god/hero [delete where appropriate, except they’re all of them]!!!
I should point out my excitement is not because of their fame … but because of the things they do that make a real difference and impact to millions around the World, in ways so many brands often talk about with their ‘brand purpose’ but rarely ever do anything with. Mainly because most of them see ‘purpose’ as a marketing gimmick/wrapper rather than an instrument for fundamental and actual change.
It’s why Paula and I talked about what brands and advertising can learn from artists at Cannes this year … but it seems we would rather blindly follow frameworks, models and rebadged established principals being peddled by certain people/organizations [despite having never made products or work that have driven commercially valuable societal change] than learn from the artists who continually out-play, out-think, out-last, out-innovate and out-influence the marketing industry with their endless resources.
And we wonder why we are failing?
Thanks for making me angry, it will help fight off the jet lag, ha.
Anyway, I appreciate the title of this post may sound heavy – especially for a Monday morning – but given aging is something every single one of us is going to face at some point, it felt worth writing. Even more so, given I didn’t really write it … I’m just publishing the words of a 95 year old actress that really resonated with me.
Not just because I’m old … not just because despite being 55, I’m still ambitious and have things I want to do and achieve … not just because I’m still working at the sharp end of an industry that loves killing people over 40 … but because it reminds me so much of my Mum’s attitude to life.
Wanting to keep growing and participating in life – regardless of her age.
Not in an attempt to ‘be young’, but with a desire to stay connected to what is going on around her. To be able to contribute, understand, explore and learn.
I’ve written a lot about this in the past.
How she decided to learn Russian, aged 60.
How she would go to shows by new artists – be it in film, music or comedy.
How she would take an active interest in hearing counter perspectives so she had a rounded view.
Basically – as she instilled in me – to be interested in what other people are interested in.
So she wouldn’t feel disconnected.
So she wouldn’t be disconnected.
So she could be engaged and active.
In many ways, Mum was driven by a desire to not play to the elderly person stereotype. Not because she wanted to be young, but because she didn’t want others to define the life she wanted to experience and live. The older I get the more I realise what an amazing role-model she was for me. To me. And while I don’t have her brains or talent, I definitely have her independence to follow the path I believe in or am excited by … rather than what many others would like me to follow.
Which leads me to the article I want to post.
It’s by the actress Patricia Routledge – better known as Mrs Bucket [pronounced, according to her, ‘Bouquet’] from the 90’s TV show, ‘Keeping Up Appearances’.
She wrote it a month before her 95th birthday [FYI: she sadly died, aged 96½, on Oct 3rd] and its a brilliant piece for anyone who is worried that if they haven’t ‘made it’ by a certain age – the chances of it are over. It’s also a great reminder that so much of the good things in life owe as much to luck as they do to talent.
Given it’s a Monday – a day where insecurities and struggles often come to the forefront – I hope this makes you look ahead with a little more optimism, energy and hope than you may otherwise have imagined. While it is all excellent, there are a couple of points that I think are some of the best ways to look at life that I’ve ever read. Which is why with all the challenges and fears we face, embrace, invite and are faced with … we could all do with being ‘more Bucket’. Enjoy.
I’ll be turning 95 this Monday. In my younger years, I was often filled with worry — worry 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 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.”
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How amazing is that?
Which is why if anyone needs a reminder of how to actually live life – rather than just go through it – then I think these two sentences sum it up best for me:
“Growing older is not the closing act. It can be the most exquisite chapter — if you let yourself bloom again.”
And …
“You only need to show up — fully — for the life that is still yours.”
Thank you Patricia. I am pretty certain there are a hell of a lot of people who needed to hear that or be reminded of it. Especially on a Monday morning.