Need to catch up or know who is who? Check out the first installment of 'Milla's Diary.
8 January 2014
Absolutely nothing noteworthy happened, except for the fight between Pip and the Mother-in-law over whether it was gray or merely foggy out. Pip, you may not know, wears contact lenses like most members of the family and at his age they CAN be quite the chore. After the debate had raged for sometime, Dear One, who had had quite enough, thank you, approached his father as one would approach an unexploded bomb and squinted at his eyes. "Papa! You haven't got your eyes in! For goodness sake, stop making Mummy cross and put your specs on or your eyes in." I must admit, Pip was such a lamb about the whole thing! He jabbed an arthritic finger in each eye to be sure then toddled off back to his dressing room and returned in his spectacles. Peace, and the Mother-in-law, returned to reigning.
9 January 2014
A different sort of peace today. After a final ride with the
10 January 2014
Randy left this morning, so we have started our official time "in waiting," as it were. Just us and the 'rents-in-law. What a hoot! All day long of the two of them going at it over telly volume, red box time (Pip is a lamb--always at her to do less) and, thank God!, the food is back to quality. The bulk caterering firm employed to feed the Royal masses is a bit on the factory canteen level. Lovely, tender organic leg of lamb and fresh veggies today. Must get the name of the meat supplier--our lamb is always so tough. Lovely wine and even pudding--the Mother-in-law usually doesn't allow such frivolity as "pudding" as she hates girdles. I understand. Believe me. I understand.
Yesterday was Yummy's birthday, of course. All kinds of nutters sent cards from SWMNBN--I kid you not. They send cards signed "Darling Mummy." Naturally they had long since fled to sanity-land, but I did get a sweet text thanking me for the case of really lovely wine (a type my son found at some artisan winery, but it is truly fabulous) as well as for the jewels from Dear One--some of Granny's of course. He is so sweet on the girl! He so wanted a daughter, poor lamb. He simply dotes on all the girls in the family and is as anxious about the OTH's daughter giving birth for the first time that he might as well be the father. If you can imagine he's called the poor thing daily to make sure she's alright. But she's the right sort--and assures him she's fine every time. I happen to know she feels "beyond beached whale" and anyone who has popped a sprog will well understand that phrase. In a day or two a self-inflicted Cesarian will start to sound reasonable.
11 January 2014
Day two of our
12 January 2014
My resolution to stop
13 January 2014
Church parade for the OAPs and more offense at the Mother-in-law not taking children's flowers. No one, not even Pip, knows the reason. Dear One surmised, probably rightly so, that she's simply had it with graciously accepting posies from children. Let's face it, she's been doing it longer than most of the world has been alive. I expect it does get rather waring with time.
Once they were back in the house and had given the lecture on the duty of church attendance, to which Dear One gave his usual non-listen, we were all stuck with the day to kill together. The Mother-in-law had the equestrian station on in the sitting room--its perfect for her! Reruns of racing and eventing 24/7. Pip, on the other hand, had earmarked a repeat of the 1966 Ashes highlights and a girlie movie on the "Wife-Disapproves-Network." Needless to say, it was reruns of racing and eventing ALL. DAY. LONG. Not even a break for the red boxes and we had lunch on trays (and quite lovely it was, too. Beautiful omlettes with lightly herbed goat's cheese, a sort of potato cake and fresh salad--lovely). As Pip tried, in vain of course, to get the channel changed, she replied imperiously, "This is what you wanted--me NOT doing my boxes." Pip gnashed his teeth and rang for a drink. I got him an old cricket match via youtube on my iPad and he was soon asleep clutching the device like a child with a favorite storybook.
When the Mother-in-law was called away to speak to the Prime Minister, Dear One grabbed the remote and we at least got a change to the Gardening Network. Personally, I'd have been fine with eventing, but the reruns of racing just bore me silly! I ask you? Can't you remember the outcome? And, given a choice of all day re-run racing, all day gardening, or all day historic cricket I'd have preferred even the crochet channel again. Instead I made my own drink--something beyond a triple and gave pretended to be nice to the corgis--one of whom had weed in the corner, but I didn't offer to take them out. There is an army of people who could take the little
Prayed for strength. The Mausoleum sounds lovely and cozy right now--and I mean the one at Frogmore, not our London home.