Tom Robertson
861 posts

Tom Robertson
@mrtomrobertson
Northerner living down South.
Virginia Water, UK Katılım Mayıs 2014
19 Takip Edilen24 Takipçiler
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A man was sitting in the bar at Heathrow and noticed a
really beautiful woman sitting next to him.
He thought to himself. "Wow, she's so gorgeous she must be an air hostess. I wonder which airline she works for?"
Hoping to find out, he leaned towards her and uttered the Delta Airline slogan. "Love to fly and it shows?"
She gave him a blank, confused stare and he thought to himself. "Well, she obviously doesn't work for Delta."
A moment later, another slogan popped into his head. So he leaned towards her again and said, "Something special in the air?"
She gave him the same confused look He mentally scratched Singapore Airlines off his list.
He thought "Perhaps she works for Thai Airways ..." and said "Smooth as silk?"
This time, the woman turned on him and said, "What the fuck do you want?"
The man smiled, sat back in his chair and said "Ahhhhh, Ryanair!"
🤣🤣🤣
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@campbellclaret “editing mistake” 🤣 it was a calculated edit from someone with an anti Trump agenda
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The BBC’s silly and unnecessary editing mistake does not change the FACT that Trump encouraged and inspired the violence that led to death and devastation on Jan 6 after he LOST the election. That should be made clear in all communications to his Mafia style lawyers and to the public. He has zero case and that should be communicated with absolute confidence, with the full and voluble backing of 🇬🇧government. And all those who are encouraging and exhorting a foreign felon leader to take down one of Britain’s greatest institutions should never have the gall to call themselves patriots again. Thank you for your attention to this matter
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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. 🤍

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@ThatAlexWoman I had a chip butty in the Magpie Cafe in Whitby recently. This was white, absorbent, thinly sliced bread that soaked up the butter and chip fat and it was spectacular.
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I miss normal bread. Fluffy, bland, unobtrusive, absorbent, thinly sliced bread, that soaks up butter and efficiently sandwiches a filling without messing up the flavour.
It's being made extinct by bloody holey sourdough, which is a grey, chewy, vacuous, fusty tasting, horrible woke alternative that doesn't soak up butter, can't be sliced thinly, doesn't toast properly, tangs like it's gone damp and foetid, makes a godawful sandwich and is like noshing on a poncy porous plimsoll.
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Another one of my top ten favourite movies
Cinema Tweets@CinemaTweets1
Boogie Nights is an astonishing film & the fact this is Paul Thomas Anderson’s second film blows my mind. I have no idea how he got Burt Reynolds, a living legend, to sign on to this film. I wish Reynolds would’ve won the Oscar, it would’ve made for a great Hollywood story.
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In my top ten all time favourite movies
Cinema Tweets@CinemaTweets1
Fargo is a stone cold masterpiece. Not that it matters, but I was born & raised in Fargo, North Dakota. Meaning, I take a weird amount of pride in this film. The Coens are from Minnesota so it’s no surprise they capture the desolate nature of a Midwest winter. A perfect film.
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