Wednesday, November 27, 2013

'Milla's Diary, week ending November 27, 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.


November 21, 2013


So lovely to be home in the country! Went for a lovely long ride this morning. Dear One off back to the Royal Round for one of his speeches. I did not here from a) and equerry; b) a cabinet minister; c) the mother-in-law, YET, so I'm hoping it's well received. On climate. Always a bit tricky, that. Lovely long natter on the mobile with Celia giving blow-by-blow of the divorce settlement. Honestly, Reg, is nearly 80 and will be a FATHER again. Celia is still gobsmacked, of course. Didn't see it coming. Reg always such a brick. I see know I was lucky the ex had no talent for stealth romancing. Saved a good deal of pain. Moving right along, was pleased to learn that Celia gets nearly every penny of his accounts, but wife #2 gets the crumbling stately pile that they've not really been able to maintain. Apparently she's set to re-do it. That ought to finish off any hope Reg has a peaceful retirement!

Evening--made the duty call to wish the Mother-in-law and Pip "Happy Anniversary"--66 years is impressive! Well done, them, I say! Of course you can't really top some of the anniversary gifts they've had--such as Windsor nearly burning down on their 45th or SWMNBN crying crocodile tears and blabbing away on  Panorama about how unloved she was. Not MANY parents-in-law get given such a treat for an anniversary gift. Anyhow, sent a nice shooting stick for the Mother-in-law (it was left at my Great-Granny's by her Great-Grandpa) and a new girlie mag for Pip, albeit carefully housed in a re-shrinkwrapped yachting book! What a hoot!

November 22, 2013

Dear One at his best--encouraging young people to do significant things. You won't find Etonians yapping about that sort of thing. I give it to the Prison Camp school he attended for that, if nothing else! While Etonians certainly know and do their duty, it's not just anyone who can inspire people to go out and do things for no pay. Not in this day! Not sure if it was the cold showers, the house slippers thrown at his head at night (poor lamb, he doesn't half snore!) or the half-naked runs in the sleet but something at that school made him very compassionate and altruistic. I know, really, I do--SWMNBN cornered the market on compassion. Well, on stunts--yes. One making herself look compassionate, yes. She did have deep feelings. She did care--tremendously. Look at the boys--she cared and they got it. But she used it to hurt, didn't she? Made Dear One look bad when he never should have. He's given most of his adult life to charity. He doesn't invite cameras to see him visit the homeless because it could embarrass THEM. Ditto with hospice patients. They're dying. Don't want cameras. Full stop.

So, while I was so utterly proud of him--it is a joy to be a wife when the man truly IS noble, I always say. I must say he was quite grumpy when he got home. Shame. I had a bottle of that nasty alfalfa-hay-tasting organic wine open to acquire flavor breathe on the bedside table and had on my silver-blue nightie that he loves. It was all his sinuses. Snot. That's really what it was about. Snot. In living color descriptions of snot. I ask you? I do not drink wine that can be found spilled on the rug with one of those black-light torches that find cat's and dog's wee to be told about snot. Even Royal snot. I hurled the tissues at him and pulled out that Jilly Cooper I've had for ages and keep forgetting to start. He sulked. Tossed. Turned. Blew his nose loudly. I ignored him. He de-camped (and CAMP it was) to his dressing room. Came in to ask why I wasn't seeing him off. I'd read thru the night!

November 23, 2013

Message relayed that Haza is at the South Pole at last. Such a good lad! Really into the spirit of helping those who were injured in the Iraq and Afghanistan and elsewhere. Really is time he found a well-grounded wife. One who can help with speeches and still play Lords and Ladies all night! He's a soldier--he has such fun in life! What a lamb. Truly. Dear One, still in a snit, got a bit jollied by the frozen "orbs" texts. Soldiers love a good "orbs" joke after all. Dear One, too, especially with his lads. Such a good father.

November 24, 2013

Dear One invited another group for tea. Eccumenical folks this time. Sounds like the start of a bawdy joke, but a rabbi, a Sikh, a Mormon missionary, a Cof E priest and some Aboriginal sort. Odd group. Difficult to know what to serve. The butler, picking up on Dear One's snit, had been frosty all morning.  He finally flounced out muttering something about "ingratitude" just before lunch. The borrowed under butler was insulted at being called an "under butler" since he's really butler-material. He stayed outside the kitchen door sulking and smoking and complaining down his mobile to his union rep.  The Filippino kitchen maid was off doing some of my Christmas shopping for Dear One. When hour one passed and still no num-nums for the guest I headed into the kitchen. It's always One, isn't it? Well, the carefully planned menu (caffine-free herbal teas--two varieties; vegan biscuits, gluten-free, vegan, raw veggie cake and a bottle of sherry for the Cof E chap of course) WAS on the counter in plain sight. No kettle boiling. No lovely try with historic VRI linens. No Queen Mary catalogged George II china. Nothing. Dishwasher WAS running, but nothing else in the works. I dug around. Shocking how little food is actually kept on hand at the Mausoleum. I filled and boiled the kettles, slung some organic looking tea into a bowl (tea caddies being silver, they were locked up), then found a cheerful assortment of mugs (china is locked up) and leftover paper Thomas the Tank Engine plates from the Grands last tea and put it on a tray that Dear One made at his prep in the 1950s. A half-eaten bag of baby carrots, some suspect looking radishes, half a packet of onion-cheddar crisps, most of a jar of Marmite and some sturdy bread. Happily the drinks tray in the sitting room is NOT locked and I carted that in as well Well. That all went over less-than-swimmingly with Dear One, I can tell you. He quite likes that raw veggie cake, thought,  personally,  I don't see the appeal. The other chaps took it in stride and had fun choosing mugs with cheeky sayings. Thomas went over a treat, too, and they starting swapping about their favorite episodes. Like nursery tea, so Dear One unbent and pretended to enter into the spirit of it. They really were all such lambs and that Mormon chappie was such a hoot! Did a thing on Thanksgiving in a family that isn't "out" as polygamous. It was so funny we let him evangelize us. Dear One even gave him a signed photo as proof he'd gotten to us!


November 25, 2013



Royal Variety Show. Exhausting. Dear One out-of-sorts again, since he always thinks it will be acid rock or rap music or something equally awful. But, when "Dame Edna" entered our box, I knew the night was saved! Nothing like a spot of cross-dressing to brighten up Dear One's evening! What a hoot! Then there were really fabulous dancers, too, and he does love dance. He was so funny on the trip home! Doing his own Dame Edna--reminded me mostly of his Granny, if you ask me, but no one did!  Got home and he suggested an inspection of the navy. I agreed since I was freezing. Never know if I should put on woolies--if the place is hot I sweat and someone gets a photo. If I don't it's an icebox and they get a photo of me looking angry and the American tabloids start spouting rubbish out me being in detox or Dear One in love with the Butler. (Now that WOULD be a hoot!). So we got the ships launched I slinked down into the tub. Dear One let the water cool a bit for obvious reasons, then plunged in. Well, I thought submarines sounded more fun and went diving. We was thinking air craft carriers and a huge launch of planes. As I grabbed the "periscope," he upped anchor and....you get the idea.

I finished the Jilly Cooper while Dear One endured an ice pack. I apologized. Truly. Offered to kiss and make it better even. He snarled (understandable). He whinged (ditto). He bit his knuckle. Finally he accepted a truce and wallowed on my bobes. I turned on Elgar. Peace.


November 26, 2013

Dear One and the Boy together for a conservation event. Unfortunately both got the giggles, but it was all well received. Dear One so proud of the Boy for taking this on. Third generation--Pip started in on that work in 50s or early 60s and now here's the grandson doing it. Lovely tradition. Then the Boy had a Mummy moment in the evening and went up on stage with Bon Jovi! Imagine! The Mother-in-law would have frozen anyone else into a pillar of salt for doing that, but the Boy can do no wrong.

Apparently Dear One found him a bit twitchy. Seems Yummy isn't very, well, forthcoming?  in the affection department yet. I can't blame her. It's a trial having a baby AND a husband. Both clamoring for One's attention. So fatiguing. Especially with her so worried about drink. Dear One suggested the Boy listen--REALLY LISTEN--to her problems without first getting undressed and then, if need be, doing a nappy change, and then maybe running her a bath--scented in layers? The Boy apparently looked at Dear One like he was as daft as Pip often is. Good suggestion, but I'm sure Yummy would see right thru it. Probably what the Boy was thinking too. I suggested jewelry. And chocolate. Actually I suggested the true soldier's way--Boy the holding chocolate wearing ONLY the jewelry. His eyes glowed a bit. Lovely when one can be of assistance. Husbands need such careful management and it is a skill too few girls have today when they reach the altar. I blame it on A levels and University degrees. Finishing school taught what really matters. Oh girls today know how disgusting he is in the bathroom and that his love of cooking extends only to baked beans on toast, but that's not really being a husband. It's after the "I dos" that the truth comes out. It's after the stick has been peed on and the sprog is on the way that the true colors are trooped. Mummy's generation KNEW husband management. It was in their marrow. And Granny's generation. Well! Even if he did have a bit of stuff on the side SHE was still the WIFE and he still toed HER line. It's almost a lost art today. These silly girls texting every five seconds. Insisting sex be meaningful. Meaningful takes a long time. Public school old boys have short attention spans. They like jolly and jokey and the love loo humor. Meaningful isn't in their vocabulary! Besides, they WORK now so they are TIRED. They'd need viagra for meaningful. Yummy will have to learn to manage him and soon! Look at Dear One! It takes so little once you know what works. I really should call her and chat about this. Maybe I could put together an advice book for new Mummys! Wouldn't THAT be a hoot!


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




1 comment:

Susan said...

Milla *so* has her act together -- pity she and Dear One didn't get together back in the '70s :( I love getting her take on all the events of the week!