Wednesday, July 03, 2013

'Milla's Diary, Week Ending July 3

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 27, 2013

Still in Northern Ireland. Usual royal round. Dear One speaks. I clap and make him feel wise. We all make happy before and after. Rather like heading up the WI, but there you have it. The Daily Mail is saying the sprog will be a boy because Dear One accepted a toy bus for the baby. Now I ask you? Was he supposed to refuse it on grounds that no one yet knows whether Preggy is having a prince or a princess? Imagine the furor!  Had a quick "do" on my own at the local hospital while Dear One drooled over quaint village or was it an antique farm? Who knows! He was happy. That's what matters.

Finally back to the hotel and starving! You'd think you could get a decent take-away up here--it is British after all. Had to order a pizza which got Dear One lamenting the demise of proper newspaper-wrapped fish and chips. The pizza came, and jolly good too! but he picked half the goodies off it! No telling what'll strike him on these junkets. Any how, yours truly was fammished! Don't dare eat on these things--never know where the loo is or if it'll be offered. Then there's always one of the SWMNBN groupies waiting to catch one with food falling out of one's mouth and then Twit Tweeting the photo round the world. But then Dear One WOULD land on a documentary on saving mold spores or something. I conked right out, I can tell you. The docu being so entertaining, Dear One woke me later wanting a little play time. He is a lamb! And these little visits are so stressful! We raced the commercials and won! What a hoot!

June 28, 2013

Back home and the dogs were SO HAPPY to see Mummy! Barely got even a single tummy rubbed before it was off to put my size 10 into it at Wimbledon. At least there weren't any protestors this year wearing SWMNBN masks--so tiresome. Any way, someone had a microphone on and I, IMAGINE!, spoke to an athelete as though he was human. Alert the media! And they did! World wide distribution all because I stated the obvious--I'm too damned old to run about in a little tennis dress wacking a tennis ball. Brilliant.

Dear One an EMOTIONAL WRECK since press is bleating over and over about the COST and PAY RISES. Well, even a nice cuddle with the Velveteen Rabbit dvd didn't help. He really takes these things so hard. Just a cost of doing business, I always say. Value for money. I ask you--who in this country gives more value for money than my Mother-in-law? No one. End of discussion, I say.

June 29, 2013

Finally a day at home! Peace! Cuddled with the dogs and caught up the Street at last! Lovely curry and chips from the take-away for lunch. Invited Pip, but he's on a short leash so ran up to see him after. Didn't risk the beasts corgis sniffing anything so left the big purse at home. Good thing, too, poor old dear was out cold in front of the sports channel. The unattractive nurse was having a go at a new crochet pattern wanted to teach one to crochet. No thanks. Remembered Dear One coming home early and fled.

Dear One came in dropping with exhaustion over the money row. Poor darling. He's got his little calendar by the tv, dutifully crossing off each day till it's Balmoral time. Heaven for him, less so for me. I've got to oversee all the wretched packing. An Army--ARMY--of servants in this masoleum and who has to make sure it's all done properly? One. Who else?  And it's not merely the right underpants, or the proper Pooh fleecy blanket. Oh no! Hordes of stuff that MUST go with us. Teddy loves to go to Scotland so he must be dragged out and packed. Then there's the fishing gear, the shooting gear, the stalking gear. And, can his outre valet handle this stuff? No. Doesn't know a Purdy from a pop gun. Then there's Grandpapa's shooting suits, the nubbly, all organic wool shooting socks, the OTHER pair of such socks which are stirictly for STALKING, if you please and don't even get me started on the picnic gear! Mobilizing for D-Day took less effort. Still, he's such a lamb once we're there!

June 30, 2013

Baby watch is on big time. Tomorrow SWMNBN would have been 52 so of course the nutters are out in force sure that she's planning to oversee the birth on her own birthday or some looney-tunes idea like that.  Got not a WINK of sleep for DEAR ONE grinding his teeth all night over it. Tried to get him to use his mouthgard so I could just sleep an HOUR, but no! The aroma-therapy stuff didn't help. The uber-expensive Brandy didn't help and NO, I was not WILLING. There, I've said it. Was. Not. Willing. Not after several hours of irritating molar on molar sounds!

July 1, 2013

World's Most Solemn High Holiday. SWMNBN's birthday.

Sent polite cards to both boys. Both rang to say thank you. I do hurt for them. She WAS their mother. Still, could DEAR ONE do the big thing and call them with a nice memory--he has a few believe it or not. NO!  Even the mother-in-law sent them a text! Thankfully didn't catch Randy's ex anywhere on the telly blubbing over her and how they were "bestest" friends. That is something, at least. Let the boys have their peace, World! They've endured enough. Let this baby have peace, too. I sincerely wish they'd stop all the fuss and just let the child be born and grow up happy. END OF RANT.


July 2, 2013

Off to the land of unpronounceable everything. Had to trot out bright and early to accompany Dear One to Wales. Thank heavens the valet remembered to lay out the dragon pants! I simply wasn't up to another sort thru Dear One's pants drawer! Someone mentioned Dylan, but I just knew it couldn't be Bob. Too interesting. Some literary thing that put Dear One into ecstasy!

Finally made it to the hotel, got immediately into my nightie and was snuggled in to watch the Street on the iPad when Dear One just HAD to start in practicing his speech for tomorrow. I should point out that we, of course, have a SUITE. Could he just practice in front of bathroom mirror like an ordinary MP? NO! Yours truly's attention required. I don't strictly mind this--it is a wife's duty after all--but honestly! An all day junket with not a comprehensible word spoken, tasteless organic food for dinner and then his speech? Which he has practiced BEFORE, mind you. Tried to slip an ear bud in but he caught me. Then it was off to the races on  how he THOUGHT I loved him, THOUGHT I valued his words, THOUGHT....Vein began throbbing in my forehead immediatly. So sat up like a good girl and gave him laser-like focus with the tv switched off.  Good thing I did, too!! He'd changed the speech.  Was going to give a clarion call for a return to the comradery of the pits and the halcion days of the 1930s. Really. I'm not making this up! Well, I had to interrupt--I did, I had to! I put on my ever-popular "Mummy-of-special-snowflake" face and voice and explained that the so- called "comradery in the pits" was mostly due to unfair labor practices and that the "halcion days of the 1930s" featured lock-outs, starvation and family disruption. He looked at me like I'd just told him Father Christmas wasn't real. I finally had to pull up a web page on the iPad and prove it to him. He understood from his Granny that the miners were jolly and happy---always singing in choirs. I pointed to the iPad. Could have heard the proverbial pin drop as he studied the screen. Suggested, instead, that he see if anyone had been at University with him during his term at that University in Wales no one can pronounce. Best I could come up with on a nico-patch and insufficient alcohol.

Finally got him in the tub with his models of HMY Britannia and HMS Kelly and got to get one episode of the Street in. Of course then he would throw a major wobbly over the pong of my scrummy chicken curry and onion bahjis--excellent take-away here, if you find yourself stranded in this area. And they do a damned fine onion bahji too. Naan was a bit stale, but it was the grocery store kind and that is what matters. I have simply craved bahjis for weeks now! Can't get enough. Thank God for Spanx!  Got busy jollying Dear One along and slopped curry down my front. Well, that changed his mood I can tell you! Only too happy to play obliging waiter and wipe it all off of me. If only it had all been organic...might never have gotten to sleep! What a hoot! He's such a lamb at times like this. Does make one remember the origins of adoration that are so easily blotted out by idiotic speeches and mind-numbing junkets!

Previous Diary Entries can be found here, here, here


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

4 comments:

Calulu said...

Lisa this is hysterical and sounds so much like I'd imagined her to be. I'm a royal watcher too. It fascinates me that they can be so completely disassociated with real life and still function.

Hopewell said...

She's a good old broad, As I always say! What a hoot! And, she really is such a lamb!

Susan said...

I agree -- I can really almost imagine her voice reading this. So realistic! Loved the voice, the bit about the cuddle with the Velveteen Rabbit dvd cracked me up totally :) Does MIL really text the grandkids? Holy cow!

Hopewell said...

Supposedly HM has an iPhone and a laptop and, of course, the famous iPod with Obama's speeches loaded on it!