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.
6 February 2014
62 Years ago today Dear One became Heir to the Throne and the Mother-in-law became Queen. It is awful to be in a job where one's only chance of promotion comes with the death of a parent. Poignent to me, as a Mummy and Granny, to see that where ever she is, on her desk the Mother-in-law has a portrait of her late father sitting with Dear One on his third birthday. The poor King was so young--he'd just turned 56. That seems positively youthful today.
7 February 2014
The Royal Round has been taking up our days quite
effectively. Dear One off to see flood victims, riot victims and others.
I've had a quieter diary, but did get trotted out for a lovely "do" in praise of the women of New Zealand. It was a fairly standard reception with a special note--the sort of "personal touch" that SWMNBN is still being praised to the skies for. I popped in the loo on my way in (well, I've had two children--I have no clue how the Mother-in-law manages) and, being one of the last two women (one guess who the other might be) left on this Earth who appears in public in flesh tone pantry hose (since "tights" are now only "tights" and not hose) and I ran a ladder up the back of one just as I closed the stall door. Not caring if I was being filmed or recorded I took care of what I came in for then had a rummage in my handbag for that essential fluid--clear nail lacquer. Well, the scent caught everyone's attention and soon we were all having a jolly time reliving loo and hosiery debacles past as only a group of be-suited and hatted women can! What a hoot! The gals being honored were quite fabulous, I must say. Always fun to have a natter with women who really live, I always say.
8 February 2014
With the Winter Olympics looming, Dear One brought to my attention a fact that has escaped the media's attention so far. Cousin M.K., husband of Pushy, was once selected as something like 3rd alternate to the British Olympic bobsledding team. I agree with Dear One--how had Pushy managed to stay out of the press coverage in the run-up to the Games? Surely that merits a piece on the evening news with her draping herself all over her husband before grainy black and white footage of the younger version is shown practicing with the team? Well, perhaps the press has learned SOME restraint after all?
To show you what Royal women go thru with the press here's an example from today's tabs. Randy's youngest is described as "ghostly pale" in one paper and as "glowing" in another--and of course they are describing her at the same event! Now, when I pointed this out to Dear One he muttered out of the side of his mouth in that annoying 30s movie-ganster-way "probably up the spout...." Well, I laughed till I peed! I so wanted to cal the Mother-in-law and congratulate her on Great-Grand #5, but Dear One went rigid at the thought in case he was wrong. Still, we laughed about it all evening. There is a such a touch of Monaco about Randy's girls that an illegitimate child would fit right in!
9 February 2014
Lovely day with Dear One and the Boy teaming up for one of their wildlife causes. Of course the press then simply HAD TO point out that the Boy, supposedly overworked on an Agricultural course, and Haza a "serving officer," had gone off hunting in Spain. Well, I ask you? Can't they have a little fun? It's not like they were bagging elephants or anything else endangered!! They're men. They shoot things. It's what they live for. Tempest in a tea pot considering all the genuine care and concern the boys, Dear One and Pip all bring to their conservation work.
After that row it took careful handling to jolly Dear One back to "liveable," I can tell you. He and the Boy were on the phone for hours and apparently the Mother-in-law was conferenced in. By the time he rang off, his face was puce, the vein was popping and he was in dire need of both a stiff drink and a long pee. So it goes without saying that this was not a day I would brook any crap from the Butler or his Union Steward. I went to see how din-din was coming along and found him sulking in front of the kitchen telly. I snapped that off and let him have the "Put on your big girl knickers" lecture in my best fishwife tones and he got busy to get rid of me. Lovely dinner! A splendid old-fashioned suet crusted steak and kidney pudding, crunchy roast potatoes, hot-house Asparagus and a divine Sherry soaked cake, from which I later sneaked three more pieces. Thank God for Spanx, that all I can say. I noticed Dear One had seconds and put on his very loose Ashton Villa pjs that the Boy gave him for his birthday several years ago. He was in a much better frame of mind after the nice dinner (and a shaker full of yummy cocktails, two bottles of wine and champagne with the desert just for fun). Positively giggly at bedtime, but once his head hit the pillow, the poor lamb was out cold. I nipped back downstairs and caught up the Street on the dvr with the dogs--they really have been tragically neglected. Had a lovely natter with my daughter who was home alone with the grands. Such fun!
10 February 2014
Nice natter on the mobile with Pip. He and the Mother-in-law are winding up their long holiday at Sandringham (well, Wood Farm now). Press all over the Mother-in-law for the "long" holiday. The woman was born at Downton Abbey--she's soon to be 88 years old! If she wants a bloody holiday she can have one and I'm quite sure no one on Earth, except Fleet Street, begrudges her one! As Pip was giving me a hilarious imitation of the poor man trying to preach a sermon to a house full of paps, tourists and, above all else, coughers, I heard the Mother-in-law shouting in the background "Are you on that thing again? Honestly! And you yell at me for it!" He rang off quite abruptly. I do miss him--such fun. Promised him a grand pub lunch when he gets back and not a bit of it will be healthy, either. at 92 what's the point? Poor man could expire literally at any second yet the "medical advisory team" and the Mother-in-law have him on a starvation diet of "healthy" stuff that no man his age wants to eat (well, from what I've seen, no man of ANY age and very few women other than perhaps supermodels and paranoid teenage girls). So it's to be a screaming hot lamb curry, onion bahhjis, masses of chips dripping in fat and salt, and a sticky toffee pud to celebrate his homecoming.
11 February 2014
Went with Dear One to visit Auntie Beeb, then back home to call in on Pip with the promised (if rather late) lunch. He was in rare form! On, as always, about the Mother-in-law's refusal to (gasp!) DRIVE to and from Sandringham! After all, her Granny (Queen Mary) went by train so why alter tradition? He did a side-splitting immitation of both the two equally intimidating Queens, but gave the "crown" for most intimidating to his dear wife! Even funnier was his "replay" of a conversation between Queen Mary and his own Granny, the equally formidable Victoria, Dowager Marchioness of Milford Haven complete with necessary hand gestures for the small cigars both smoked and Queen Mary's lorgnette! What a hoot! He hoovered up the food, as I knew he would, even accepting half of mine! Normally he's far too much of a gentleman to do that. Poor lamb, he was half staved. No one can make it on Muselli and an orange from whatever time they ate breakfast till well past lunch time. Two pints of stout were gone rather fast as well. After that he took on Randy in a rant I secretly wished I could have recorded. I did my best, you may be sure, to recount it accurately for Dear One. Also gave the scoop as far as he and the Mother-in--law have heard on the OTH's new Grand. He, too, is in love with yet another little girl in the family. So sweet. Like Dear One, surprisingly, he's very good with babies and little ones, once they get past the scary ancient old man looks. He finds that bit to be so funny!
In the evening Dear One and I had a lovely dinner in the dinning room. All my emeralds, plus a charming bracelet made by one of the Grands which Dear One sweetly and loyally said was the best bit. A nice joint of rare beef, roasted potatoes, organic sprouts, organic carrots and some delightful granary bread rolls that were to die for. Must have been the organic spelt in them, I suppose. Nice slosh of that excellent wine Dear One occasionally lets us drink from the stash we got in after our last sojourn to Tuscany. Afterwards we went up to find our night clothes with the intention of watching a movie the Boy left for us, but, well, Dear One's zipper wouldn't budge and I had to help. Things got heated, but still the ruddy zipper wouldn't move. Called for his valet (very, very much against Dear One's wishes, of course) he tried to help. Trousers got mercilessly tight. Finally the valet said "Oh Sod it Sir..." and came back with the barber scissors and started a bit too near the next-to-the-crown jewels. The trousers suddenly fit fine again and with some serious tugging, Dear One was liberated and the trousers were taken off to be fitted with a new zip. He went off for a long sulk and soak with the Navy and I watched to 'Street on the iPod with the dogs and tried to find out what went wrong with "Flappy Bird"--we were so enjoying it. Winner got to choose our "good night." Hilarious fun, that. Now we're back to whatever Dear One wants like always. If you ask me, and I assure you no one does, I'd say let the bloody bird flap--it was a great giggle!