Need to catch up or know who is who? Check out the first installment of 'Milla's Diary.
2 April 2014
Well Sod last week then--nothing written! But with the Funk still in Full Force I lacked the energy to even TRY to make sense of the days. They passed by in a blissful gin-and-tonic-nico-patch-
So, I ignored him. Slept alone. Watched the 'Street with the dogs and took nearly constant calls from Yummy on the eve of departure for the land of Vegemite. Baby apparently survived the long trial flight on their recent holiday, so he's ready for the off, but Yummy is finding out that being a wife AND Mummy is more like having twin infants than having a second adult. Boy is a bit like his Papa in the Funk department. Seems to be Channeling Great-Great Uncle David in his "The Things I do for Empire" days. Endless days of engagements all mapped out leave him feeling trapper (well, they do all of us, but just like adolescents and sex, he thinks he's the first to discover it. That too is natural). In a huff over all the photo ops, all the hand shaking, and all the rest. Not much time for a lager and footy on the telly I suppose. So, when Yummy asked for advice (and it was all sounding FRIGHTFULLY familiar, I must say) I told her what had worked for me. We developed a packing list that should see her thru the next few years of such little jaunts.
1. His replica football kit jersey. It's his proper Pooh blanket, if you will.
2. The Terminator dvd collection--make sure there are spares. Essential.
3. That Black Adder cd all three of the "boys" love. I've banned it. It's for viewing ONLY with the boys now.
4. His brand of beer.
5. A stash of his beloved curry flavored crisps and American bubble gum.
6.. His "snuggly" jimjams.
7. The farting whale, singing wildabeast cd that's gone missing from our collection somehow. (No comment).
That settled we MOVED on to her side of the list.
1. A daily supply of Red Bull.
2. New fun lingerie for bedtime (after she drinks the Red Bull). Nothing soothes a man on a tour like a little hide-the-pickle! And, the Boy was a soldier...they do so love their nighttime fun.
3. Spanx. Amazingly she was horrified at this! Was she getting fat? Did her Mummy Tummy show that badly??? I reassured her that she was still as thin as the Spanish counterpart. It's for AFTER too many State Dinners. She understands that she must consume some of the food (well, quite a lot of it, actually) in order to not give offense.
4. A stash of Dear One's green pills. Lovely what they can do for one's outlook on tour. Dear One is speaking to the Boy about them. Fewer petulant looks in photo-ops.
3 April 2014
Continued with the bucking up of Yummy pre-tour. She's so worried that Baby will miss her and become attached to Nanny. I assured her this was a good thing. Her generation really exaggerates all this "bonding" nonsense, if you ask me (and I'm sure no one ever will!). After all, Mummy saw her parents approximately twice per year but still uttterly doted on them! So much more sensible really. A good Nanny ALWAYS keeps the parental portraits up-to-date so there aren't any embarassments like not recognizing them on School Sports Day. I told her it was her DUTY to focus on the BOY for the duration of the tour. Baby is a prop to get better approval ratings. There. I've said it. But it's true. He's so adorable that they WILL go stark raving bonkers over him. She WILL fret though--they all do, her generation. I made her promise to eat several ounces of good, natural cheese and have a serving of mashed potato each day before the tour to calm her nerves. She was hesitant. Along with all the Mummy-nonsense they buy into, this generation of women just do not understand the calming qualities of food--especially food washed down with a healthy triple gin and tonic. Does wonders for a wife and mother's nerves, I can tell you! Finally wheedled a promise out of her--in fact she called back that evening to say it all worked a treat. Ah, what One does for the Empire.........
4 April 2014
Dear One came calling just before bedtime to say "Good Night." He worries about these tours. He was sure he was shot at on one tour Down Under. Things like that tend to linger, I find. He loves the Boy so and couldn't bear anything like that happening. He also fears another substantial dip in his approval ratings which WILL happen after the youngsters are splashed all over the international press for the duration of the tour. I say, good on them! They're young and at least dear Yummy is highly photogenic! And Baby WILL delight--he's such a lamb. Right up there with my own Grands. There's the other side of this tour though that haunts him--the inevitible endless comparisons of Yummy to SWMNBN and the endless dredging up of their marriage. There will be days and days of it. Photographs scrutinizing poor Yummy's wardrobe for likenesses to her late Mother-in-law for example--those rankled EVERYONE, probably even SWMNBN herself if she were still with us. Now I ask you? Who WANTS to be compared to her MOTHER-IN-LAW?? Show of hands? I thought so.
So, funk or no funk, I did my wifely duty and invited him to wallow over my boobs for a while. Did him acres of good. Tried to suggest a review of the fleet in the bath, but he was too tired. He did at least decide to sleep with the dogs and me. So nice to have him there--warm and comforting. The best part of marriage, really. So familiar and cozy. He loves "cozy"--it reminds him of Nanny after all. And, contrary to the contemporary mummy's worry, that IS a good thing.
5 April 2014
Dear One nipped by to say "Godspeed" to the travelers and to cuddle Baby one last time before he goes. I so wanted to, but the last thing in the world any of us need is a leaked photo of One cuddling SWMNBN's grandchild. So Dear One gave him and extra cuddle for me and a few prezies for the long flight as well as a few similar gifts for the Boy and Yummy. He's so thoughtful like that! I sent Yummy a packet of cards--one to be opened each day to encourage her each morning. It takes fortitude, these tours. And with both "boys" along.....she'll need it!
Down to the country for the weekend. Dear One pottering in his garden while I took the dogs for a nice long ramble. Shame there was no rain--I find rain is so soothing on a walk. The garden revives Dear One so well. But he will worry until the Boy and family are safely on the ground again. Told me all the cute things again that baby did when he said good-bye. In the evening we watched one of those long Merchant-Ivory films that look pretty but bore one rigid within minutes. Dear One had a hanky handy of course. He feels things so, poor lamb. Had a lovely Steak and Kidney Pudding and chips in front of the telly in our pajamas. A lovely sherry trifle for afters. So soothing after a long week of the Royal Round and all the stress of getting the Boy and Yummy sorted and ready for the off.
6 April 2014
Dear One having one of Grandpapa's gnashes over the press hounding Haza and his girlfriend. They WILL decide who must marry whom! The poor girl must be ready to enter a witness protection program by now. Dear One LOATHED the way SWMNBN was treated by the press and the Boy and Haza SEETHE with anger at the hounding of their loved ones. You'd think the press who, after all, are STILL milking the cow that is their dead mother with daily stories STILL on her, would LEAVE the boys and their loved ones alone, but no! Hound the poor, dear little lamb till she's probably in therapy. It makes One's blood boil. Even the Mother-in-law is outraged that they cannot just leave them alone to decide if they have a future together or not.
Of course, as in all things, there are two parts to this story. The part that really IS a bur under Dear One's saddle is that one of Randy's girls introduced her to Haza. That means their Mum could have had a hand in. That means, if they marry, she could do the tour de force of the international chat shows and tell, with great tears, how she did it for him since her "bestest" friend (who disowned her by the way) aka SWMNBN wasn't there (sniff, sob, hanky to eyes) to guide these two soulmates to each other. Bollocks! If not for that, Dear One would not give much thought to who his son picks--he wants his sons to be happy.
7 April 2014
I was right! First day of the tour--there's the idiotic press Johnnies flogging a photo of Yummy in a coat so like one Boy's dear belated Mummy wore! Well it was red. And both women were young a slim when wearing them. And? Dear One grunted and shared the memory that the original coat chafed someone's neck and she regretted choosing it. But, he did say she looked quite lovely in it. It doesn't offend me when he says things like this. He's a very caring man. Of course he tells me when I look lovely in something and it DOES quite make my day.
With the young people off on their way, we got down to the business of the Royal Round. I have often sung the praises of the Spanx line of "body wear," but some days call for major structural support at my age. I hauled out Mummy's trusty 1953 all-in-one (with the original zip, I might add, and the rivet-like snaps in a certain place) and was in the process of stuffing myself into it when I heard a familiar and, I must say, irritating sound. Bubbles. The sound was of bubbles. Emanating from the toilet in the en suite loo. Well, it does that some times. I calmed myself and called for reinforcements to get me into the garment. The filipino kitchen maid is a whiz at this sort of thing (years of helping Granny, I'm told). Sadly, I've over-done the crisps, booze and curry chips lately. I called Dear One. He called his valet. Now, I know what you're thinking, but if I said simply that I am not the valet's cup of tea, I'm sure you'd understand why this wasn't a big deal.The men grabbed the upper bits of cloth and hoisted me off the ground--rather like getting Uncle Dickie into his ceremonial Life Guards riding britches. (That and POUNDS of talcum powder--Barbara Cartland always sent him this, from the Este Launder line, I believe). As they shook me down into the thing, the sweet little Filipino kitchen maid manned the zip and I was soon in my straightjacket and praying I didn't quickly need a pee. (Note to self--mail the voucher for free sample of those pee pads for old people.) As I sat down (in real pain, I might add) to put my face on the bubbles returned....with gusto. I sighed. It's always up to One, isn't it? I went down the list of available staff--no one. They all have "clauses" you see.
I decided to take matters into my own hand. I found my purse, pulled out the credit card in my brother's name and phoned that plumbing company--you know--the one promising no bum cracks? Fabulous people. Had someone dispatched to fix it before I'd found my stockings. Sadly, Dear One had returned. Now, he "came of age" shall we say, in the era of catalogs featuring garments much like I was just trussed up in. They arouse certain pleasant memories. And, if I may ask, why is it all men go gaga over that gap between stocking tops and...well...that private area? Their eyes glaze. They breathe funny. They never look anywhere else. He looked stoned. Truly. Stoned. Wanted to be a different kind of "cozy." Well, that couldn't happen--not in this garment and I certainly wasn't going thru the rigamarole to get out of it and then right back into it. Happily, by that time the plumbers were here. I was fully dressed, in case you worried. I left them have a selfie but declined to have it in front of the loo..... Gave me a "welcome" packet and a discount on their premier service contract, too. Why didn't I think of this years ago...... The packet had a lovely t-shirt (the nice thick all cotton kind, not those cheap blends so many firms give these days) a voucher for a free pizza at the good place that delivers on time and other goodies. All that and I didn't have to touch a plumbing tool! I'll be putting in the paper work for a Royal Warrant you may be sure.
8 April 2014
Distress call from Yummy on tour. The Boy was not impressed with the first night's offerings. I told her not to worry, he'd agree soon. She thought she might have upset him by rushing immediately to see Baby (you think?). I suggested she LISTEN to the Boy first and let him vent about all the ridiculous things that occurred that day FIRST, then see Baby. Then a familiar statement--when it's HER turn to vent he switches on the telly and channel surfs till he finds sports. That's the time for Baby, I said. She sighed. I know that sigh. He's so like his father.....