Patricia Routledge, noted British actress. She was 96.
…from the beginning she was a stage performer, and an acclaimed one.
Ms. Routledge won a Tony for her 1968 Broadway appearance in the musical “Darling of the Day” (a tie with Leslie Uggams, for “Hallelujah, Baby!”) and its British equivalent, the Laurence Olivier Award, as the Old Lady in a 1988 production of “Candide” at the Old Vic.
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Many of Ms. Routledge’s biggest fans, from “Appearances” and from “Hetty Wainthropp Investigates,” the detective series she starred in afterward (1996-98), may never have even known about her time with the Royal Shakespeare Company or her stage roles on the West End.
She was the temperamental character actress Dotty Otley and a harried housekeeper in the farce “Noises Off” (1982), the imperious Lady Bracknell in “The Importance of Being Earnest” (1999), the title character in “Little Mary Sunshine” (1962), Madame Ranevskaya in “The Cherry Orchard” (1975), Queen Margaret in “Richard III” (1984), the confused Mrs. Malaprop in “The Rivals” (1976), the earthy Nettie Fowler in “Carousel” (1992) and a religious fanatic in “And a Nightingale Sang” (1979).
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Other American stage appearances included the 1980 Shakespeare in the Park production of “The Pirates of Penzance,” with Kevin Kline, as Ruth the pirate maid; and the London comedy “How’s the World Treating You?” (her Broadway debut, in 1966), as a frumpy 1940s mom.None of her Broadway shows had long runs. In 1968, “Love Match” (her second time portraying Queen Victoria) never opened, because of a disappointing Los Angeles run.
Her most notable flop was the Broadway production of Leonard Bernstein’s “1600 Pennsylvania Avenue,” in which she played a series of American first ladies. It opened on May 4, 1976, and closed on May 8. She looked back on the experience as a composer-lyricist mismatch, telling the London newspaper The Telegraph in 2007, “I think Alan Jay Lerner was frightened of Lenny.”
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IMDB.
She was best known as “Hyacinth Bucket” (pronounced by the character “Bouquet”) on “Keeping Up Appearances”, a show (and a character) beloved by many people in my family.
One of those family members sent me this, which I rather like:
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