Wednesday, April 16, 2014

'Milla's Diary, week ending 16 April 2014

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.

10 April 2014

As we all knew he would, Baby quite stole the show at his first official outing on the Royal Round! And with those adorable jowly cheeks and chubby thighs how could he not? He's the picture of Dear One and the Boy at that age, but with Yummy's eyes, of course.  He's such a lamb!  Naturally the press must AGAIN decide the child has only one parent--Yummy. He is a darling though. Dear One over the moon with pride--naturally. And the Mother-in-law unusually chuffed as well. Well done little darling, well done!

11 April 2014

They tour seemed to be going so well for the Boy and Yummy (and dear Baby, of course!). Lovely play date with all three of them, then meeting young families in the forces--so appropriate. They KNOW the life of course. But the land line went off at an odd time and Dear One was called to the phone. It was the Boy, of course, in quite a state. COULD the idiotic press for once notice that his wife does more than simply wear clothes? Could they not SEE that other Mum's her age RE-WEAR clothing and the Earth doesn't tumble from its orbit? He DOES NOT want his wife harassed the way his Mummy was and he's not taking it sitting down. Good on him, I say! So fierce! So like Pip when the Brain Box is properly engaged. Dear One made soothing noises of the sort he's so good at--the usual litany of "I see's" and "yes.....yes..." and "if you think it wise" and the rest--all practiced for simply YEARS of duty in loco parentis to Randy and Edith, of course. Then I was called to the phone as Yummy needed a word.

Apparently the "night time goodies" worked a treat (as I KNEW they would). The Boy especially appreciated the "All Blacks" theme I advised for the one night. What a hoot! Of course the Boy was a soldier, and they do so like their nighttime fun! So many people fail to realize the importance of a really competent and caring mentor for young wives and Mummy's. I've often thought it should have it's own charitable concern. Like "Help the Aged" or the Samaritans. After all, she's just gotten to the altar, housebroken the puppy (so essential in the run-up to children--a couple who skips a puppy is simply asking for years of child therapy later on), has got the night time on a decent schedule and then, just as her life has a tinge of sanity, she must produce the heir. It's a problem all aristocratic young wives face. And for many there's the need of juggling a career, the revolving door of foreign au pairs, smuggling in illegal cleaners and all the rest that makes a life liveable. Mentoring is CRUCIAL or they could, for example, think they must actually cook the evening meal and not just nip into Sainsbury's for a ready-meal most nights. Same with the silly idea of changing hairstyles! Once you've got hair and makeup perfect while still sleeping, why change? It's this sort of ridiculous self-imposed stress that a good mentor can help with. So often today, young women are at odds with Mummy (that will, of course, change once Baby arrives) so a good mentor can help with all of these passages in life.

12 April 2014

Dear One's funk is lessening--thank heavens. It still appears from time-to-time. Life tonight. Edith phoned. Now, you'd think with the Boy on a major tour, Edith would have sense enough to keep the land line free for him. You'd think so, but you'd be wrong. Oh, quite wrong indeed. It seems his 14 minutes and 55 seconds of birthday fame weren't enough. He demands the last 5 seconds. Could Dear One have a WORD on his behalf. Now, mind you, it was Edith's so-called "film company" that stalked the Boy at University (and don't think Dear One will ever forget it!) but Dear One was forced to listen to all the injustices of dropping steadily further down the line to the throne. The press is shouting "Second Baby in the works" since Baby is so adorable, and Edith has managed to work out the math on that. He was #3 in line at birth and is already down to an alarming #8 and will only fall further as the boys have their own families. Poor Edith! You could just HEAR him flounce out as Dear One cut short the pity party with a well timed, "I'd so love to talk longer......"

13 April 2014

Well Dear One had to joke, He simply had to. That cross-dressing chappy got his gong the other day in a lovely skirt-suit and high heels, I might add. And Dear One simply had to have a giggle over it. He said there were clothes of Mummy's he was eager to try on! Yes, he did. Now, I of course, realized he meant the ERMINE, but the rest of the world (i.e. the tabloid press) took it to mean he had a valet for a reason...... What a hoot! We've giggled about it all day. He really roared out of his funk over that, I can tell you. I couldn't help myself. I sent the Filipino kitchen maid out for some raunchy knickers with a crown on them and gave them to him at bedtime. To my complete disgust, he would not--simply WOULD. NOT. model them! As if I'd photograph that with my iPhone! So, instead, I wore them myself. Lovely fabric--won't ride up I imagine. Always a good thing. All one needs is the press getting a shot of that being corrected!

14 April 2014

Wonders never cease, do they? The Mother-in-law apparently rang up the Boy on his mobile to tell him "Well Done" and the tour isn't even over! I could see him beam from here. He does so want to please Granny and Grandpa. Pip, too, I understand, had some praise, but got a bit distracted and asked the Boy if he'd gotten any intel on the feisty little blonde he was shaking hands with in the photo in one of the red top's this morning. Seemed quite a "goer" in Pip's parlance. The Boy was a bit puzzled, but Granny took the phone back and told him to take no mind of it. 

15 April 2014

What a week! Tonight it was Randy. Had Dear One considered the implications if Haza decided to marry at just the time Randy was pushing daughter # 1 toward the alter? It was "harsh" enough that his progeny were "all but excluded" (his phrase, not Dear One's) from the Royal Round, but to have Haza's engagement overshadow that of a "Princess of the Blood" (his phrase, again).... Dear One rolled his eyes heaven-ward, as I mixed him a very stiff  G & T. As Randy blathered on in his self-righteous way, Dear One started to eye my fags cigarettes longingly.  I lit two just in case, but his paranoia of cameras everywhere made him refuse it. I gestured to the nico patch and he giggled. Randy, of course, heard the giggle and took umbrage. You KNOW what came next! It took over an hour, but finally MUMMY rang to defend her darling. "Could [Dear One} PLEASE be mindful of Randy's sensitive nature? Could he TRY to be a bit more CARING toward Randy." Pass the sick bag..... Dear One was "on," as the young people say, for literally HOURS. I even offered some rather indelicate hanky-panky to calm him, but he just continued to rip on Randy, Mummy and parental favoritism. I must say, he is true to his word. He does NOT play favorites between his boys. Well, once Randy had been verbally drawn and quartered and before Dear One could depart for Windsor to do the deed for real, I got old Nanny Whosits out of bed (had to give her time to find her partial and her hearing aides, but she's always on duty for Dear One, poor old dear). As he talked I tucked the Proper Pooh blanket around him and settled in to FINALLY, finally, get a look at the 'Street for the first time in literally AEONS. Almost an entirely new cast its been so long! Well, Nanny worked her magic--probably read the bit about playing Pooh Sticks--that usually does it. I knocked back a whateveryoucallgreaterthanatriple G & T to soothe my own frayed nerves.

16 April 2014

Slipped over to play with the Grands this morning before hitting the Royal Round. They do so REVIVE one, I always find. Came home after a too-long-day in tight Spanx to find no tea, no scent of din-din, no drinkies. I knew it was too good to last. Apparently, according to the sign on the Green Baize door, the collective bargaining agreement for the staff expired at noon. Who knew? Not one, I can assure you. I rang up the solicitor's office across the way at the palace, but got the voice mail. I rang Pip--if he's firing on all cylinders, he's usually reliable for the scuttlebutt on staff. Thank heavens he was "himself." Sadly, he had a rather naughty film on full throttle in the background, so I knew the Mother-in-law hadn't come upstairs yet. Understandably, he begged to ring me back. Well, men NEED that from time-to-time, I always find. Young wives are so ridiculous about it all. Seriously, do they want to do only that? I didn't think so. It's more like a public services, those films. Again, it needs careful mentoring to become a sensible wife who can make the journey to death we do part and all that. Once the blood had trickled back to his  brain, Pip rang back to say that it was all true--no staff except "essentials." That means protection officers, the corgi's personal valet and the Mother-in-law's dresser since, strictly speaking, they are not covered by collective bargaining. So, they were having a curry from the take-away which an Equerry (also not covered by c.b.) was collecting for them.

Sadly, I soon found the note the Filipino kitchen maid left me. It wasn't personal, she assured me. And her car keys were in the old sanitary towel box in the visitor's loo if I needed them. I did. Someone had to feed Dear One, and I couldn't enter the kitchen, now could I? Pip has a vintage 1960s electric skillet and toaster stashed away for these times--he does a grand fry-up with them, let me tell you! But, we aren't so lucky here at the Mausoleum. So I rang the Chinese taek-away and got extra fortune cookies. So fun if you know the game. The one where you add "in bed" to the beginning or end of the fortune? It's a hoot and it quite perked Dear One up for a change too! Ended up having a lovely time playing "den of inequity" after dinner. Dear One slept like the dead after--he's so needed it, poor lamb, after the week he's had.

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