Wednesday, August 21, 2013

'Milla's Diary, week ending August 21, 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.

Copyright protected

'Milla here! Everyone I'd like (as they say down the pub) to give a "shout out" to that marvelous young man, Nash Rambler, who called me the "Nation's Glammy!" What a hoot! One--a GLAMMY!!! He's such a lamb! Does so much good dredging up obscure relatives of Dear One. Today's "gentleman" explains a lot about Edith, if you ask me! So, have a read of Nash's work today! 

August 15

Where to start today??

Still in the North of Nowhere, getting ready to decamp for hell Balmoral--or really Birkhall NEAR Balmoral..I'll miss them all down the pub! What a jolly group! Heaps of fun.

Dear One chuntering on and on about Randy and the Ex and the girls sucking up to Mummy and about the Press going to town on the Grandson's first photo shoot. Not proper photos. Not Snowdon or anyone like that. Yummy's Daddy. For a first royal portrait! A point and shoot camera in the back garden. You just KNOW the Mother-in-law would disown any other member of the family offering such tosh to the press. But the Boy is beloved. The press gushes on and on about him changing nappies and losing sleep. So like his Mummy of course. It does make me shout "oh bollocks" at the paper--to read it all you'd think the Boy and his brother were the 2nd and 3rd immaculate conceptions! I ask you? Did these boys not have a FATHER? There. That's out of my system now.

Must go see what the butler is up to. Been lingering in the dining room. Bit put out over the holiday travel allowance. Wouldn't want any of the Sevres to end up on the  open market, now would we?


Sevres now under lock and key to be safe. Butler looked fit to be tied, but it had to  be done!

Lovely long ramble with Dear One and the dogs. He quite surprised me! No grissling, no whinging, just lovely fun! Such a lamb! We had a lovely little picnic in the rain--so fun in the rain, I always say, and only 3 servants and two  vehicles to accomplish it! That should reduce the carbon foot print for the eco-johnnies! A divine pate (organic, of course), free-range Scotch eggs (organic sausage meat), those God awful Nummy multi-grain flax seed & who-knows-how-many-grains crackers that give the dogs and me such gas are the perfect thing to pair with pate and of a simply sloshed Sherry Trifle! Nothing says "little picnic" like pate and trifle!

Dear One's phone blared Queen's "Killer Queen" about bedtime Cousin Pushy (actually the Mother-in-law's cousin's wife, if you can follow that) rang up to gush about new Grandchild. We both believe she forced the Son and Daughter-in-law to become parents so they wouldn't slip so far down the line of succession as to no longer get a  balcony invite for Trooping the Colour! That gave Dear One a reason to ring little sis and "Congratulate" her on her "birthday present." They didn't even have the grace to include her in the sprogs list of names! That good their blood roiling and good. About an hour later MY mobile went off with "When I was a Lad" from H.M.S. Pinafore and it was the OTH's husband--never can recall his name. Was an equerry. Sure late Aunt Margot loved that marriage! "Could I ask Dear One to ring off? Seems it's the chap's one night a month and he didn't want to lose it." I signaled to Dear One rather vulgarly and he made a rude comment to sis and they were off for another hour. Finally got him to ring off. Then we went upstairs to be Queen Victoria and John Brown. What a hoot! Dear One in kilt and putting on his best Burnsy-accent. Me being "not amused." Highlight of the trip for One, I can tell you!

August 16

 Pall of Gloom. Yet another "Conspiracy Theory" on the death of SWMNBN. Do the Press of the World simply not give ONE THOUGHT to those poor boys? No coincidence, of course, that this is all being brought out at the same time as a major bio-flick of her life. No, of course not. None what so ever. Ever Mr. Harrods didn't jump on the bandwagon. Honestly. Let the woman rest in peace. Let her BOYS live in peace.

Vein is throbbing. More tomorrow.

August 17

Dear One rang up Haza for his excellent work on minefield clearance. Who cares if it was a SWMNB iconic moment? It's IMPORTANT. Good on you, Haza! We're so proud, darling! Mummy would be too. (Well, maybe she'd be jealous of the attention he's getting, but that's too catty to actually say.)

Some of Dear Ones clubby friends arrived for a wee house party. The right sort, all of them. Mostly ex-soldiers, so good fun, too! We had some dazzling new coctails (Caribbean Camel Toes or something like that) as well as these delightful little jelly-shots. What a hoot! Brought the butler to tears when we went sledding down the stairs on the tea trays. I had no idea they were George II's--don't think Dear One did either. Seemed like battered old trays and, really, what harm was done? None. Well, not that you'd notice without a jolly good look! Of course Fatty WOULD try it. Had to have the Rescue Squad come to get him back on his pins--too many bad backs in this lot. After we got him Righted we all watched the Parliament for a while and did a marvelous drinking game. Got the boys recalling University and the fun in their Eating Clubs and Societies. Dear One oddly silent. Reminded him of a night when his cello was out-of-tune. Poor darling! They really should have FORCED a few of the better clubs to admit him! I've never known anyone who went to Uni and studied. So odd, really, but there you have it!

August 18

Nodded off in Divine Service. Couldn't understand a word the old Crock was saying. Dear One wept at the "Majesty" of it all. Place smelled of damp, wet dogs and old ladies' Pound Shop hair dye.  Music was from a cd. But this was "Majestic." Must have been the jelly shots that did it. Church Parade having been deserted for Sick Call, we had to go alone. Dear One smartly done up in his kilt and little jacket. I was simply CRYING for a fag cigarette and drinkie! Managed to keep tummy from squalling with some of those wood pulp-ish organic Lavender-Rosemary biscuits (blech...) that are Dear One's current "most favored thing on Earth." I don't think it's natural to eat things that taste like one's lingerie drawer!

Got the free-loaders house party on their feet and sober enough to depart, thank God. One does find them wearing rather quickly these days. Well, except for the old Soldiers! Such lambs, all of them! Went for a walk with the dogs to puff nearly a packet of fags cigarettes. Had a lovely triple G & T in a travel tumbler! Perfect way to enjoy nature! Dogs were marvelous! So fun to be out with them. They love their Mummy.

Dear One Whinged when I insisted I MUST escape down the pub for a bit. It was Quiz night and the Street was the special topic. What a hoot! I won the 3rd prize gift basket with a pub t-shirt & can holder thingy, a voucher for a free dry cleaning of a man's or woman's suit, a lovely selection of lovely NORMAL biscuits (which I have hidden) and a chance at the summer's grand prize--a week in the pub owner's time-share in Ibiza!!!

August 19

Press still chuntering on about the new Conspiracy Theory.

Lashings of rain! Still managed a nice walk with the dogs. Dear One huddled in bed all day reading a tome of such epic proportions I had thought it contained a hidden bottle of booze! Some dreary thing on native spiritualism. Says he plans to quote it in a speech on Sink-Estate Revitalization. Alarm Bells went off madly in my brain. I had to ask. I did--I had to! Reminds him so much of the East End culture his Granny talked about. How they were all in "another world" and all. Wanted to relate a story on a possessed dingo (something like that) to the origins of the Pearly Queens and old-time Cockney Speech. I took a very slow, long breath, and in a voice even calmer than "Mummy of Special Needs Child," asked if he could explain the two were related. He looked very perplexed. Stammered. Stuttered. I suggested an analogy from a recent "Bob the Builder" I'd seen five times in a row with the Grands. He looked hurt. Then he started to sulk. When he began sucking his teeth I knew I'd stepped on some toes. He imagines people in a sink estate would immediately make a connection to the spaced out kaola jargon or whatever was in the ruddy book. I don't think the wonkiest Cambridge Don would understand it, but there you are!  Finally saved the day by suggesting they adopt a neighborhood scheme to take wheelie bins to the curb for the OAPs. Might get them a look-see from the Council for it. Could get the drains fixed or something.

August 20

Dear One's equerry rang me again. Could I PLEASE! get him to.......... I literally slammed my head against my iPad. Does this man have no bollocks? Can he not simply do his JOB? Why is it always ONE who must steer Dear One? Isn't that why HE wears the gold cords??? Honestly. I feel like a Primary School Headmistress sorting a car park Mummy's set-to! Apparently the squawking about Dear One's well-intentioned little notes to Ministers is seen as a "bad thing," he said. Now how could a lovely, handwritten letter on creamy, thick embossed stationary ever be a bad thing? Such is my lot today. Not enough Gin in the world................ Must see Chemist about a new nico-patch. Extra-strength if I'm to deal with this lot!

No comments: