Need to catch up or know who is who? Check out the first installment of 'Milla's Diary.
November 28, 2013
Hilarious day! Back at Easter, I got lost on the way to the loo (we'd been in the chapel, you see, and I don't know the terrain very well out that way) and I stumbled across an exhibit in the library on the Prince Consort's love of harmonium music. Well, to save the day when Dear One wanted to use one of Granny's
November 29, 2013
Well it seems that even the Boy can cross a line. He called quite miffed and spoke to Dear One on the secure line for over an hour. Granny was not amused by his sing-along with Bon Jovi. God knows who explained to her just who Bon Jovi is, but there you have it. "Common," for those of you born to parents who can't recall the relief of Mafeking, is what is today known as (depending on one's point of view) "tacky" or "fun." It smacks of reality shows on telly. Granny very carefully articulated her point of view. Rock stars, except for Bono and of course, Sir Michael Jager and Sir Paul McCartney are not part of the royal "we" now are they? Funny about the Mother-in-Law preferring naughty Mick to sweet Paul, but there you have it! So, that was the Boy told. And, though he looks like his Mother, he sulks just like his father. Very out-of-sorts. Dear One did his best to jolly him out of it, but with the frost on the bedcovers and little brother gathering attention at the South Pole, well, frosty was simply the order of the day, wasn't it? Even put out when Dear One sweetly asked after Baby. Apparently someone isn't receiving his fair quotient of homage these days, let alone adoration. Well, sucks to be him then as they say in the high street these days! Starting to find out how it was when Papa was ignored for dear Mummy.
Funny text from Haza! Soldiers have the most fun! Hilarious story about peeing, steam, frost and the rest down at the base camp on the South Pole. Dear One nearly peed trying to read it out to me! What a hoot!
November 30, 2013
Lovely night at home with Strictly! Dear One and I made a last-minute dash down to the country. So lovely to just be the two of us in the car with him driving like any other couple still able to see at night. Of course half the police in the area were behind us, but one can pretend. I ordered out one of those lovely gourmet pizzas from that place my son's prep school friend owns. So delicious! All gourmet toppings, wood fired ovens, locally grown, artisan everything. We got the duck summer sausage with artisan asiago on spelt crust and another with a tappas-style olive mixture on quiona-basil thick hand-tossed crust. Delicious. Even had REAL wine. Ok, I cracked. Alert the authorities! I dumped the
December 1, 2013
How quaint! My Norwegian counterpart is being looked at for marriage problems! Anyone with a brain would have thought twice before letting the mother of a drug lord's illegitimate child marry their heir to throne, but then they all go about on bicycles like lunatics up there. Still, can't squack too loudly, they are Dear One's relatives and are even in the line of succession. Yes, if nuclear holocaust occurred and only Norway was spared we'd have them on the throne if it, too, survived. The tabs have it that she makes Randy's ex look sedate and dignified. I thought she was rather fun at whatever funeral or wedding it was that I met her. Still, nice to see someone else's dirty laundry flying from the Palace flag pole and not anyone in this family.
December 2, 2013
Dear God, does Pushy never shut up? She's splashed herself all over the Tatler! Probably paid them for the spread. Gushing about how she'd want the Mother-in-law's poor cousin to marry if she dies first. Speaking of "Common...." Dear One had one of Grandpapa's gnashes over her absurd idea that darling Uncle Dickie "arranged" her marriage. Everyone knows she wanted the older Gloucester Prince, but he died tragically and well, she married the wrong man the first time around, didn't she? So convenient that she got a Papal annulment. Still, they had to marry in Venice? Vienna? Valencia? hmmmm.....too long ago. Anyhow, I put my size 9 in it by asking Dear One what I should order for them for Christmas. The Mother-in-law's all family, mandatory Christmas lunch is looming and I haven't a clue on what to get all those cousins of hers. Well he went OFF. Suggested a few more histories for her to plagiarize, the mobile numbers of another Russian oligarch to cuckold her husband with--that sort of thing. Right. I'll just order her some of that wine Dear One loves and tell her he chose it specially for her. Game, set, match to One. She went no to suggest that other cousins would be vacating their marital home at KP [Kensington Palace] for Haza. Since the couple in question are as discreet as the dead, I hardly think they appreciated that. Must ring Duchess Discreet and sympathize.
December 3, 2013
A bit late, but I lit a fire under the staff--sicked solicitors on the Union rep and everything--and the Masoleum is now done up appropriately for the Holidays. Mind you, it was still up to One to do the nastiest job of all--dealing with the over-the-top florist. I remember him when I was a Deb. He was designated TSIT--TOO safe in Taxis. We didn't know then "why" but today it's obvious. Turns out my Daddy's friend wasn't actually his uncle, but the place they live in Belgravia is truly lovely. He's stayed with him all these years, too. Still, he's a bit of a trial at times like this. And then there's Dear One's problem with moving any of Granny's art to make a room more "seasonal." I got around that by sending some to the Royal Society of Whatever that cleans the valuable art. Works a charm every year. Funny how he hasn't noticed it's the same few pieces every year.
With the house decorated and Pushy's gift sorted (the worst Christmas duties) I tackled Dear One on the plans for our at-home with our children. Now, my son is something of an expert on food and Dear One has strong opinions on that subject as well, Very strong opinions, in fact, so this requires diplomacy of a level not seen since the SALT talks in the 1970s. Shuttle diplomacy at it's worst. Me being the unlucky Foreign Office type who shuttles between the war zones. Amazingly, this year it went fairly well. Son had his list of suggestions to me by mid-November so I could nicely talk (and bribe when necessary) him out of things that just can't be done at Dear One's table.
Then we got to the subject of Fruit Cake. A no-brainer you say? Well. Dear One hit the ceiling when I read my boy's suggestion. It sounded like something Dear One would WANT. Quinoa and African Sorgum flours (fair trade and organic, of course), candied kumquats, etc with a custard-apple (that's a fruit when its at home--who knew?) reduction and soaked in a lovely beet-root and champagne syrup. Nummy! Not to Dear One. Oh no! I got an entire evening on the necessity of having a TRADITIONAL, albeit organic, fair-trade, fair-labour, proper toweling nappy fruitcake chock-a-block with sultans and candied orange peel and what-have-you. I doubt the divorce discussions were as heated as this was! Goodness! Well, I managed to sneak a nicorette into my mouth and stabilize myself as he went into hour two on this subject. Suffice to say Heir to the Throne trumps balding, thirty-something father of three cookbook writer. Proper fruitcake and none other will be on offer at tea. Now to think of a reason why Yummy can safely eat it and not gain an ounce and a way to jolly the Boy into not irritating Papa by picking out the golden sultanas which he professes taste like bogeys. And, a way to stop Haza putting them up his nose to try to make the Boy laugh. Not only is it waring, well it is!, but I've got the young Mummys to deal with--won't want the Grands doing that at someone's house, now would we? Consoled myself by letting Dear One grump off to sleep, then sat up with the dogs catching up the Street! Bliss!
December 4, 2013
Spent yesterday at a charity event--in support, partly, for Osteoporosis which I champion in memory of Mummy. I do like those people. The right sort and they have a bit of fun at their events. We were trading bonds or futures or shares or debt loads or something. What a hoot! Lots of friends and friends children work in the city, of course, so the lingo was at least a bit familiar. An Eton accent on the line is always so comforting when one is trading blocks of shares, I always say, Well, you could have knocked me over and trod all over me! Dear One flaming in jealousy when I got home! CRAIG REVEL HORWOOD was part of the fun!! A Strictly judge in the flesh! I was a total fangirl all day long!!! Turns out he's such a lamb you can't even imagine! Poor Pansy will be SHADES of GREEN in envy! So fun!! And, I got a photo on my phone! I knew Dear One wouldn't believe me otherwise.
More Royal humor: What if Charles HAD married Camilla in the 1970s?