Good advice respects the recipient’s autonomy, offering insights without taking away their sense of agency. It is rooted in empathy, aiming to uplift and empower, rather than control. It aims to provide clarity and direction while encouraging self-reflection, allowing the person to find their own answers. Most importantly, good advice is given at the right time, when the recipient is open and ready to hear it. On point, well-timed advice is one thing, but not all advice is wanted. Unwelcome advice is a common problem, especially in the age of social media, where everyone feels free to offer their opinions without being asked. This kind can feel patronising. It often implies that the person receiving advice is not capable of handling their own challenges. While unwanted advice can feel intrusive, navigating how to receive it can be just as challenging. One strategy is to recognise that advice often reflects the experiences and perspectives of the person giving it. It may say more about their worldview than it does about you. If you still feel defensive, ask yourself why. Resistance can sometimes mask a fear of vulnerability. For example, do you need to see yourself as someone who already has all the answers? Feeling as though you should already know something can evoke shame, making it hard to accept guidance. Socrates emphasised the value of humility and openness in learning. He believed that embracing our ignorance is the first step towards wisdom – advice I’m taking on. Ultimately, the best advice, whether given or received, opens up new perspectives and helps us grow. Philippa Perry Joan Armatrading Joan Armatrading Never be afraid to pursue what you truly want” The best advice I ever received came from my grandmother, via my mother: “Never be afraid to pursue what you truly want.” These words have stayed with me all my life. I didn’t have a background in music. My father showed me how to tune the guitar then left me to it, after my mother swapped two old prams to buy the instrument. Everything else, I taught myself: songwriting, performing, producing, engineering and more. Being afraid to try anything new can hold you back: I debuted my first symphony last year. My grandmother’s simple yet powerful message reminds me to always follow my own path. How Did This Happen and What Does It Now Mean? is out on 22 November on BMG Sir Michael Caine English actor Michael Caine Champions and stars don’t wallow in misfortune, they get up and get on with it” I came up with this nugget myself. “Get on with it” works for everything in life: apply for a job, apply for a course, get in shape, learn a skill, ask a successful person for advice and mentoring. Keep moving and trying new things. I treated myself as a one-man studio, a one-man operation, determined to do the work I wanted to by hook or by crook. Have the patience to wait for the breakthrough and don’t expect it to come about in a predictable way. I was just about the last of my gang of actors to become famous. Don’t Look Back, You’ll Trip Over: My Guide to Life by Michael Caine is out now Nadiya Hussain Nadiya Hussain Anger is often more harmful than the injury that caused it” My Year 8 teacher told us this, following endless class arguments. He sadly passed away that year, but the advice stuck with me. I was an angry child: dismissive and pessimistic. He made me realise how destructive this can be, making situations worse and distracting from the problem that needs solving. I’m learning to be better at holding that anger back, taming it and returning to it with understanding. Cook Once, Eat Twice by Nadiya Hussain is out now Omid Djalili Omid Djalili Make sure the first thing you say on stage is funny” When I met successful and respected standup comedian Norm Macdonald at the Montreal comedy festival in 2015, I asked: “What’s the secret of good comedy?” He said, “The trick is to make sure the first thing you say on stage is funny. And then make sure the second thing you say is funny and then the third thing you say is funny… ” and then he got called on to stage and I didn’t see him again. Two years later, I bumped into him at LA airport and before I even had the chance to say hello he said, “and then the fourth thing you say…” You can’t argue with that. See Omid Djalili in Namaste on tour throughout the UK Dame Sheila Hancock Sheila Hancock Tomorrow is another day” Generally, I’ve loathed slogans to live by. As a child, I was told “Little girls should be seen and not heard,” and “Know your place.” It took me 70 years to defy those. Now, I quite fancy “Tomorrow is another day” – Scarlett O’Hara’s last line in Gone With the Wind. It strikes a chord with me, with its multitude of meanings. I get a lot of pain from rheumatoid arthritis. A bad day can feel insurmountable, believing I’ll be crawling on my knees eternally. A day later, I’m absolutely fine. Similarly, a sleepless night fretting over the most worrying problems is soon forgotten. Whatever is plaguing you, the awful times won’t last forever. It also means being open to change: anything can be done differently tomorrow in life’s long adventure. And quite honestly, aged 91, I’ll be grateful if any tomorrows at all still lie ahead of me. Sir Mo Farah Mo Farrah Be willing to adapt” “Be willing to adapt.” It’s something my mum has said to me since I was a kid back home in Somalia. For years afterwards, I didn’t understand what she’d meant. As I got older, it made so much sense to me. Be open to new cultures, new languages, new ideas – not just what you already know. Don’t expect everything to stay the same. Whatever environment you’re thrown into, don’t judge; be open-minded. Without that outlook, all I’ve achieved would have been impossible. Arriving in England, I see now, it allowed me to make friends and connections and build a life in a place that at first was unfamiliar. And certainly it helped me in my career: every race is different, so work with what’s in front of you. It’s what I tell young people today: there’s so much you can achieve, if you’re open to it. Dame Mary Beard Mary Beard You don’t have to be boring” That was the advice given to me by an older colleague, the maverick Roman historian Keith Hopkins, after I had given him the draft of one of my early academic articles. To discuss it, he took me to lunch at the Pizza Express near the British Museum and when we got to, I confess, the second bottle of wine, we turned to my article. The argument was fine, he said, but it was (imagine the hesitation here) a bit boring. “You don’t have to be boring, Mary.” It wasn’t what I wanted to hear, and it must have taken some courage (Dutch and other) for him to say it. But it was the best advice. Ever since I have tried only to be boring when absolutely necessary. Russell T Davies Russell T Davies Hold the line” The greatest advice I was ever given – apart from “Don’t buy a cheap ironing board” – is simply “Hold the line.” My friend and colleague Julie Gardner first said it to me 23 years ago when we embarked on a production of Casanova, which everyone turned down. “Hold the line,” she’d say. And that’s how she got the show made, by never giving up. Now, every time I could collapse or compromise or rage and weep and despair, I mutter “Hold the line.” Julie and I once sat in the BBC canteen at 9.30pm with a programme in tatters. We’d been dealt blow after blow, no budget, no cast, no support, no hope. But we sat there, we laughed, we had cold curry – and we held the line. And we got it made. John Lithgow John Lithgow Never be afraid to say no” I’m acting on stage these days with a wonderful young actor named Tessa Bonham Jones. She recently sought out career advice from Lindsay Duncan, a great London actor twice her age. To Tessa, Lindsay’s best counsel was concise: “Never be afraid to say no.” When Tessa quoted Lindsay’s wise words to me, I was startled to realise I’d received them about 60 years too late. Actors like me are congenitally afraid to say no, which accounts for the fact that half the acting jobs I’ve ever done were ghastly mistakes. Dr Maggie Aderin-Pocock Maggie Aderin-Pocock Have a big crazy dream” As a child I was not considered bright. Undiagnosed dyslexia made the fundamental building blocks of reading and writing quite hard for me. I’d come home disheartened after another failure at school. But dad would say, “Have a big crazy dream, Maggie. It may take you longer and you might not get there, but if you love it, you will have great fun along the way.” I’ve had many crazy dreams in my life, but the strongest has been the desire to get out there into space. And my father was right, it is amazing fun pursuing that dream, whether I make it or not. Lemn Sissay Lemn Sissay Take it easy, but take it all” I was 17 and had been given a two-day release from Wood End Assessment Centre in Atherton for a trip to Manchester. That night I was supporting a revolutionary band called African Dawn and I read my poems on stage. It was my first public reading. The next day the band and I visited the Workers Film Association, which was a derelict 9,000 sq ft Edwardian warehouse rebuilt by the workers on the borders of Hulme, Old Trafford and Moss Side. Wowo Wauters was the founder and a pretty hardcore Maoist. When we left, Wowo waved and said: “Take it easy.” Then he tapped me on the shoulders and said with a glint in his eye, “but take it all.” His words have always stuck with me, and I don’t know why. Stephen King Author Stephen King Do kill your darlings” At high school, I got a job writing sports stories for a weekly paper called The Enterprise. The editor was John Gould. As well as being the boss of The Enterprise, he wrote dozens – maybe hundreds – of witty essays. He looked at my first column, on a local hoopster who had broken the Lisbon Falls High scoring record, and quickly cut it down to size. Fastest lineouts I ever saw. He said: “Steve, I want you to cut at least 100 words for every 400 you write.” I never managed that, but when I cut my short stories down, I began to sell them. So yes, do kill your darlings. You Like It Darker is out now Funmi Fetto Funmi Fetto Don’t be afraid to ask” Bobbi Brown recently told me: “Don’t be afraid to ask.” Historically, women in particular have been made to feel ashamed or are punished in some way when it comes to asking to have their needs or wants met – be it money or desires. Hence, many of us have been muted or have simply taken the idea of independence to such an extreme that it becomes detrimental. As women, we really need to push past this societal stronghold and be much more unapologetic about what we need and/or want. Let’s dare to ask. Mary Portas Mary Portas Try to love the questions themselves …” From a teenager, I believed controlling all aspects of my life was where safety and security lay. I lost both my parents by 19, my mother from meningitis. Why didn’t we act sooner? Why weren’t we more questioning of the doctor? Those angst-ridden possibilities stayed with me. From then on, being in control – personally, professionally – felt a necessity. It was bloody exhausting. Five years ago, while going through a difficult time, I picked up a book of poetry by Rainer Maria Rilke: “Be patient toward all that is unsolved in your heart and try to love the questions themselves… Do not now seek the answers, which cannot be given you because you would not be able to live them.” It fundamentally shifted how I look at the world. Embracing the flux and uncertainty of life is living. There is no one answer; no right or wrong. The point is to live everything. The pain, the uncertainty, the letting life happen. It was the most important release in my life. Blake Morrison Blake Morrison What is this life if, full of care/We have no time to stand and stare?” My father had strict instructions about social etiquette: firm handshake; look people in the eye; work hard and play hard. But it’s my mother’s philosophy, based on a poem by WH Davies, that has stuck with me: “What is this life if, full of care/We have no time to stand and stare?” By nature I’m impatient and need to be doing stuff. But Mum (or Davies) was right. To be receptive to the world and the people in it, you have to slow down, look, listen, open yourself up. You don’t even need to stand. Just sitting and gazing will do. Chioma Nnadi Chioma Nnadi Don’t expect to change someone when they show you who they are from the very start” My parents generally know better than to meddle in my romantic life, but on the rare occasion that they have inserted themselves, they’ve usually been right. On meeting my first American boyfriend, a scruffy non-committal skater from Brooklyn, my mum offered up an observation that was swift and incisive. “He’s like a glass of champagne,” she said. “Great fun for one night, but you’ll have a hangover in the morning.” It wasn’t advice exactly – she knew I wouldn’t want it from her – but it was her way of gently letting me know what I was letting myself in for. In other words, don’t expect that you can change someone when they show you who they are from the very start. (Of course, it was a lesson I ended up having to learn the hard way.) As much as I’d have hated to admit it back then, sometimes the best advice is unsolicited. Michael Rosen Michael Rosen Hands behind, nose over toes” When I came out of the 40-day induced coma in June 2020, I couldn’t stand up and I couldn’t walk. Physiotherapists and occupational therapists at St Pancras Rehabilitation Unit got cracking on me. To teach me how to stand up from a sitting position, they had a little mantra they gave me: “Hands behind, nose over toes.” It’s brilliant. It swings your centre of gravity over your thighs and you push yourself forwards and up with your hands. Every day, I repeat the mantra maybe 20 or 30 times. I guess people younger than me don’t need it, but I’m 78 so with that in my mind, I’m not one of those people who thinks getting out of a chair is like climbing Everest. Jay Rayner Jay Rayner Unending happiness is a chimera” My mother, Claire Rayner, made her name and her living from advice, doled out in response to the thousand or so letters received each week in response to her problem pages in the Sun, Sunday Mirror and elsewhere. Sexual confusion and dysfunction, emotional distress and embarrassing ailments: all this and so much more flowed like a river through my childhood home. Only one piece of Claire’s advice, given to me when I was an angst-ridden teen, stuck with me because it hung like a canopy as an answer to all other problems. Unending happiness, she said, was a chimera. Therefore, we should aim only for contentment. And if bubbles of happiness happened along, well, that should be taken as a bonus. She was a wise old bird, that one. Jo Brand Jo Brand Wear what you like” I once appeared on a show called What Not To Wear with Trinny Woodall and Susannah Constantine, and they told me I “looked like a man” and needed to wear something “more feminine” that wasn’t black. I caved and allowed myself to be dressed for the Baftas like an elderly matron in a brown evening combo, with my cleavage out. I felt enormously uncomfortable. According to them, however, I looked “much better”. I didn’t follow their advice after that. So here’s mine: wear what you like. I’m not saying it’s good advice, especially as the next and only other time I went to the Baftas, I chose my own outfit, which was charmingly described by one of the tabloids as “billowing”. Then again, I’ve always wanted to look like the lead galleon in the Spanish Armada. Ravinder Bhogal Ravinder Bhogal Keep yourself rare” I was lucky enough to have crossed paths with the late, great Reg Gadney. Painter, novelist, screenwriter, polymath… They just don’t make them like Reg any more. He painted me at his home in Fitzroy Square about 10 years ago. He disarmed me with a stream of witty quips and pearls of wisdom. One was a gem: “Keep yourself rare.” In our age of punishing schedules and FOMO, I’ve discovered that “No, thank you” is a complete answer. I used to say yes to everything. It left me exhausted, overwhelmed and less focused. Instead, I now revel in relinquishing high heels, Spanx, blow dries and parties for long, idle hours where I can read a book, eat chocolate and administer liberal doses of self-love. Kate Garraway Kate Garraway Break it up into bite-sized pieces” “Break it up into bite-sized pieces.” When I started as a reporter, a friend taught me that when you’re tackling any problem and feel you’re sinking under its weight, think of a ship with its watertight compartments which prevent it from going under. Shutting them allows the rest of the ship to stay afloat. This helped me break down and construct my reporting, but also helped in everyday life. When I feel overwhelmed, I think of each day as its own “watertight compartment”. Life throws you challenges: emotional ones, work, health, like our family has experienced over the past four years. When it feels too much, I think: “What is the most vital piece for today?” Completing that then becomes its own achievement. It helps make me feel that I’m not overwhelmed, and to take – and enjoy – every moment as it comes. Join Kate Garraway weekdays at 10am on Smooth Radio Andrew Marr Andrew Marr You’ve only got one stomach” My father, Donald, was hugely influential on me. Moderation and humility was his agenda. Whenever I’d talk about salaries and doing better, he’d give me a long look and say: “You’ve only got one stomach.” He’d encourage me to turn down high-paying jobs if they didn’t feel right. The correct amount of money to have, he’d assure me, is that which causes you to think least about it. And if ever I was getting above myself in my career, which may have happened, he’d drop in a deep Scots accent: “There’s a cure for everything, except a swelled head.” He died a few years ago, but I still hear his voice all the time. Tonight with Andrew Marr is on LBC at 6pm, Monday to Thursday Nigel Slater Nigel Slater You can grow old, but please don’t ever grow up” One day, a decade or more ago, I had been laughing about the aches and pains of “growing older”. My best friend and business partner, James Thompson, said: “You can grow old, but please don’t ever grow up.” To this day, I haven’t. I like to think I still have the same curiosity, energy and childish sense of humour I had as a teenager. And what is more, I have no intention of ever “growing up”. I rarely think of myself as too old to do anything I want to or to take anything, including myself, too seriously. It is a piece of advice I hope to take to my grave. Eva Wiseman Eva Wiseman. Look around … this is not the same as then, it’s all new, it’s going to be OK” For a long time I found Nora Ephron’s famous advice, “Go, right this minute, put on a bikini, and don’t take it off until you’re 34”, liberating and lovely and affirming. Then I turned 34 and thought, Oh. It’s tricky, shedding decades of the pressure and pain that link femininity to feeling bad about yourself, but week by week I get a little better at not wasting time, cash or energy on worrying about my appearance. I guess she helped kick that off. The other important bit of advice I received was from a midwife called Deborah, when I was struggling in labour with my second child after having had a traumatic birth with my first. She said: “Look around – this is a different room, different windows, different people, this is not the same as then, it’s all new, it’s going to be OK.” And then I pushed again and the baby came. Chris Packham Chris Packham Shout above the noise” In 1979, I was confused, riven with self-loathing and very, very angry. I wanted to tear myself or the world up and start over again. And then, in a sweaty crowd of fellow punk rockers at a Penetration gig in Portsmouth, the wonderful Pauline Murray gave me an alternative: an answer and reason to go on, a direct instruction. From the stage, she said: “When everything around you falls. And all the walls are closing in… You must exercise your strength of will. Don’t let them win… Shout above the noise.” I stood there and thought, well, that’s it then, I’d better get on with it. Has it made my life easy? No. It hasn’t quelled the anger or self-doubt, either. But I don’t care, I’ll be shouting above the noise until my dying breath. Sir Paul Smith Sir Paul Smith Keep your feet on the ground” “Keep your feet on the ground.” My wife, Pauline, has always helped me stay positive and humble. We’ve been together since I was 21 and we’ve always had a nice home life, so I have never been drawn in by the superficial side of the fashion business. We’re on the earth for such a short time that health, love and friendship are paramount; it’s about getting up in the morning, loving life and being optimistic. All images courtesy of Getty, Alamy, Shutterstock, Dave Bennet and Wire images