Wednesday, June 19, 2013

"Milla's Diary, week ending June 19, 2013

NOTE: This is affectionately written fiction. Any resemblance to royals, living or dead, is purely coincidental. This piece is copyright protected.

Need to catch up or know who is who? Check out the first installment of 'Milla's Diary.


June 13, 2013.

Up at unGodly hour to leave for the land of fog and mist to do the Royal Round with Dear One. Was trying to get a last fag cigarette in before slapping on a Nico-patch for the trip while also trying to yank up my girdle (Those Spanx Johnnies don't mess around, do they?) when Dear One came in to fume about his valet AGAIN. Honestly, this man is paid more than any school master ever born, but he can't, simply CANNOT remember that Dear One always, always wears tartan pants in Scotland. He'd packed the English striped ones. Honestly! I don't have enough to do without having to do Dear One's packing? Then Dear One saw what I was trying to do and decided to be VERY SWEET and help me press the flesh down into the girdle. Well, that got things rolling! Reminded him of nights under the covers with ladies wear catalogs in the early 60s. Happily, we got a quick tumble out of it! What a hoot!

Finally into the car and off we went. You can believe me I had the bloody Elgar cd in my big purse, plus two back ups--one Cilla Black in case his mood changed and one of some chap called Purcell. Should lull him into a coma before long so I can get more of the new Dick Francis (well, I think it's his son today) in on the iPod. Also packed those tasteless organic ginger biscuits he's craved since the Epi of Downton when the maid was eating them. Should I have to remember all this? Of course not! There's an army of staff to remember this, but they WILL still pack the bloody dark chocolate biscotti that he's QUITE GONE OFF, thank you very much! Also remembered to grab the a couple of dead boring looking academic journals at that artsy-farsty newsagent by the chemist. Anything for peace in the car!

June 14, 2013

Day 2 in Scotland. Dear One a bit miffed at the press. Coverage is all Preggy doing the unthinkable and acting like a normal mum-to-be carrying on with her so-called "work." Brilliant. No one ever thought of that before. Then there's the new movie on SWMNBN! Well, that got him off to the races, I can tell you! Managed to stop him before he got into the Home Stretch, by sticking a Kumars dvd into his laptop. Meant sacrificing my ear buds, but any price for peace in the car, I always say. Had the driver crank up the Stones for a whille, but Dear One kept insisting I take an ear bud and listen. Honestly. The show is a funny, but I've got them all memorized. Give me the Street anyday, I always say.

Played 'spot the bum' since it was so windy and several of the men were in kilts. Such a Hoot! Gave Dear One a new outlook on life when the really tubby lad revealed his bits and pieces.  Still, so VERY proud of Dear One at the hospital with the wounded. I don't know why SWMNBN gest all the lovey-dovey praise when he's such a lamb, and so empathetic! They really were pleased--and I do know soldiers, of course. Haza rang Dear One to say Well Done on the hospital visit. Meant the world to him, of course. Must thank Haza properly and give him the new cleaner's mobile number. She's a former page three girl so I KNOW he'll love her and it will get the press off you-know-who for a while.

June 15, 2013

Home at last! Had to drag Dear One up to see Pip at the hospital. Command Performance. Scared me, I can tell you! When Dear One and Randy are ordered to Pip's beside one does visualize the poor old dear breathing his last, but there you have it! Up we went! Dear One offered not so much as a re-gift, but I had a lovely vindaloo and onion bhajis ponging away in my big purse and Pip was THRILLED to bits over it. The staff, not so much. Just helping him along--they never let you leave after an Op till you've done what my nanny always called "your duty..." Nothing like a vindaloo to move things along. Dear One spoke nary a word while we were there. The boys put in an appearance, sans neckties I might add. Do they simply not think? Or do they do this to make me suffer? Honestly, all the way home in the car it was "laxity of standards of dress." And, could Dear One mumble something to the press about how fab Papa looked? No. Not a bloody word. They'll be printing the obits within an hour! Poor Pip was in a good humor, too. Had a lovely sponge bath that morning by a very commanding blonde and was still enjoying it all apparently. So German. Such a dear.

Tried to catch up the Street on the DVR, but Dear One wanted to go to bed and play a round of Grand National. A bit miffed over this, since it WAS my turn to be jockey, but he decided HE must be the jockey. Well, it IS simply THE MOST FUN EVER but one does so look forward to one's turns as jockey. Still, it did wonders for his stress.  As Dear One gasped his last, (what a lovely little smile he had!) I flicked on the DVR and got two whole episodes of the Street in before he came back from the dead and wanted a massage with his organic olive oil. (That stuff costs a mint and all I need is some press Johnnie seeing the cost....well, I have the maid refill it with the cheap stuff from that off-price store where all the OAPs shop. He never guesses! Such a lamb.).

June 16, 2013

Trooping the Colour. Makes one so utterly proud to be British on this the Holiest of High Army holidays. It was the usual mob of royalties no one has ever heard of on the balcony with us. Edith was there in that ridiculous Scottish uniform Mummy gave him so he could play soldier. Who knew he had a second child??  News to yours truly, I can tell you.  Dear One did a marvelous job--always does on the big day! The mother-in-law LOVED the photo I found on the internet of "Trooping the Corgi," and now wants Haza to make it her iPhone wallpaper. Such a dear! Managed to get a wave off to the Grans in the cheap seats as the carriage went by. I do love my grans!

Home to be forced into Downton Dinner in the dining room with an army of servants. I was perishing for a drink and a fag cigarette (my patch gave out on the balcony) and just wanted to get my bra off and relax, but no! Dear One wanted to play Lord Grantham and dress up in Windsor Uniform and all. Just for lamb chops (organic of course) and some veg no one has ever head of and more of that cat piss interesting range of fair trade, organic wine Dear One loves so much. Tried IN VAIN to catch up the Street on the DVR, but Dear One needed reassurance that he WOULD TOO be king some day. Honestly. So I had to play Oprah all evening and pretend I believed a) he would be king and b) that I gave a damn. Finally jollyed him thru it, but to be nice (and it was a stretch by then, believe me!) I agreed to watch that long, boring "Passage to India" thing that he loves so much. Well, I knocked back a couple of stiff gins to fortify myself, I can tell you. Then the bloody DVD had a scratch in it and Dear One was off the couch ranting away like mad. I got the disc out of the player, removed the dog hair and pushed it back in. Thank God! Harmony restored. Spent the rest of the evening blissful with the dogs in my lap--they do love their Mummy! Dear One nodded off about 1 am so I finally got to watch an episode of the Street in peace.

June 17, 2013

FINALLY! A day of PEACE. Dear One, so dear in his Grandpapa's shooting suit, made a run down to his garden. Very Lord G I thought when I saw him in it. I stayed home and caught up the street with dd [darling daughter] while the grans napped, then we all had a jolly tea. DD really is a marvelous mother! How she does it all with only that Brazlian au pair I don't know, but hats off to her. After they left I had a quart of Hagan Daas washed down with a huge gin and tonic. Finally caught that footman who is supposed to "do" me at open mike nights at a nearby drag night! WHAT A HOOT!! Must remember to hire him as a double! Save me endless hours of boredom and well worth the money spent, I'd say. Must have him do Dear One's birthday party. How hilarious to have him do me doing Marilyn singing Happy Birthday to JFK! Too, too funny and Dear One will so love it!

Dear One home in time for dinner, but rather bad tempered over dinner on trays in front of the tv. It was my turn to pick the show but he insisted on watching some really dull documentary on rain forests or something. I found the Street on the web and watched in on the iPad with the ear buds in. Those ear buds blokes should be put on the Honour's List! Those little darlings can TRULY save a marriage. The bore-a-thon docu over, Dear One insisted on practicing his speech for me on the need to revive the grand old tradition of Work Houses. I was speechless, I tell you! Had to go into "very-patiennt-mummy-of-special-needs-child" mode to rescue him from this pending disaster. Finally, FINALLY got him to understand it wasn't a communal effort plan with happy villagers pooling their resources as he'd thought. Suggested he focus on a revival of harmonium music instead. Brilliant flash of memory on one's part! At Easter I was walking thru the Windsor Castle library, looking for a loo and noticed a display about the Prince Consort's love of the harmonium. Never head of it before. Happily he loved it! What a hoot! Nothing like an arcane musical instrument to save the day, I always say--NOT!

June 18, 2013

Well, Dear Pip has been sprung from the land of sponge baths and adoring nurses and is home at BP, poor old thing. Ran up to see him, but being on to our secret foodie-fun, the gaurds hauled out the heavy artillery,  i.e. the sniffer-corgis, and I was busted. Had a marvelous sticky-toffee pud and some kung pao pork in the big purse, but for naught. Dear Pip is back to lamb chops and egg-shaped potatoes. Went upstairs to visit with both Pip and the mother-in-law, found later in exceptionally good mood. Pip does that to her, of course. Like that Ghille-whosits in the Mrs. Brown movie--"move your foot woman!" that sort of thing does wonders, I always say. Such a dear. Well he had the cricket on one set, she was trying to catch up East Enders on her set (in the same room mind!) and they kept grumping back and forth at each other, while firing pleasantries at yours truly! Bit like a Twilight Zone meets The Royale Family tv-show. I was half expecting to be asked if I'd had my tea yet or seen any aliens. Well then her phone blared away with the "Andy Pandy" song and her face lit up like Christmas. To save a row, I helped with the mute buttons. When WILL these two use those oversized remotes I got them last Christmas! Oh the rows! "Turn that bloody thing down!" back and forth half the night while one or the other plays hunt the button. With Dear Randy on the line, it can be hours, so I moved over to watch cricket with Pip. Such a lovely game! Makes one proud to be English, I always say.

Well, Pip had half an eye on the Misses and I should have too, but that really attractive Paki was to bat.... Well, the other side of the room went DEAD. QUIET. then in terms Hyacinth Bucket would use she managed to croak "how much, darling? really? I see." And one JUST. KNEW. Before you could say "sponge bath," Pip was up and gesturing and saying "give me the damned phone." I looked to the beasts corgis and said "walkies" since one of the little brutes darlings HAD just wee-d in the corner, but took my time getting up. Well worth it. Saw the dearest Darby and Joan moment ever--gives one hope, I always say. As the mother-in-law set the phone reverently down on the table, for dear Randy HAD rung off in a fit of pique, Pip took her hand and helped her up. "Need a cuddle, darling?" Honestly--pass the linen hankies, please. True romance. Of course then he ripped Randy a new..... gave rather an overly honest appraisal of Randy's less attractive attributes and the mother-in-law WOULD mount her steed and charge in to defend him. Pip, for once, found the right button and the cricket was blaring again as I took the savages corgis out to pee.

Heart stopped at dinner as Dear One's phone blared out God Save The Queen. He started choking on his free range, organic mutton pie (it WAS tough) so I had to answer it. Only the mother-in-law mis-dialing Randy, no doubt to hand over the money and set things right. Set Dear One's teeth on edge, I can tell you. Nothing like a favorite child to upset the apple cart, I always say.  Rest of the night was spent trying to watch just one tiny ep of the Street while Dear One cataloged all the ways Mummy has favored Randy since approximately his conception. Vein in forehead is THROBBING.

June 19, 2013.


Lovely day! Ascot at last. My ONE. TRUE. HOLIDAY. even if it does require a nico-patch and a girdle. Had a marvelous day! A bit squiffy from the lovely champers the Ex kept bringing. Lovely to see him--always does the mother-in-law a world of good, too. Dear One whinged on at full volume about chemicals in the turf till the mother-in-law gave him her LOOK. He sulked at the back of the box with Pip--his FATHER, if you please! I ask you? How desperate can he get! Always trying to play one off the other, but Pip's brainbox hasn't slipped THAT much.  Finally the mother-in-law came in to force Pip out for photos and Dear One made a break for it. We had a lovely time together, getting squiffy and giggling madly over the ridiculous hats and not-so-there dresses. Lovely horses, too! I must say, that Sheik of Whatsit can pick a fine animal.

Dear One in a pleasant frame of mind this evening. We managed to worm out of the first night of the house party, shame really, such fun, house parties. But nights like this remind me why it all began when he's like this! Such a lamb. But then The One True Heir (hub's sister) had to call! Bang goes a good evening as shrill sis pipes up with a list of complaints supposedly from Pip! Happily though she then got onto a good rant about Edith and she and Dear One were thick as thieves for an hour re-living every slight since Edith arrived on the scene. Don't get me started.

Was having a jolly nice stiff g & t while watching the street when my phone began blaring Pomp & Circumstance and I had to deal with Dear One's Equerry. I am simply not paid enough to deal with this pompous little man very often. Honestly, a half-foot of gold cord and they think they're dear old Uncle Dicke! Little bit of power in the hands of a fool, I always say! Could I PLEASE get Dear One to not whinge on about the halcyon days of indentured servitude or whatever it is this week? Could I? I ask you! Who wears the bloody gold cord anyway? One? I think not. Told him I had no idea how he thought a mere WIFE could have such influence. Had to back up the Street as I'd lost the point while listening to the chap bleat. I mean, HONESTLY, these people are PAID to do these things!  Well, just as the Street was getting juicy Dear One wanted to play Lords and Ladies upstairs. If it isn't one thing it's another. No Street tonight and poor lamb--he just couldn't go the distance. I did think Coronation was a bit of a stretch for a week night, but one does have to keep in mind his fear of never being crowned. What we wives live with!


Last week's diary.

More Royal humor: What if Charles HAD married Camilla in the 1970s?

1 comment:

Jeanne said...

Love it!!