Milly’s perspective

Some months ago, Milly agreed to a series of conversations about her life in Stamford and how her wisdom translates into life here. 

Milly lives with Beautiful T and Writer A, here at Milly View in Stamford. She has become a well known figure in the shops and bars and cafes in the town, ever happy to check out who has a well stocked selection of tasty treats. 

While she is comfortable with people and with attention, Milly is not keen on interviews as such. Therefore, we conducted these in private, usually on a sofa. Some of the more informal conversations emerged during a few walks.   

In our most recent conversation, on Wednesday 18th February 2020, I started by asking Milly about mornings, and especially her experiences of waking at Milly View, her wonderful home. 

Milly: Until recently, a typical morning started with an early stretch. During the week, this could be as early as 0500, as that’s when A would appear to make some funny smelling drink in a silver thing. I think it’s called Coffee? It always looks complicated –  coffee and milk and kettle all being heated, mixed, blended, frothed. 

Me: So, what do you do while this Coffee thing is going on?  

Milly:  Hang on, let me stretch and look out the window for a bit. Got any treats? 

Well, while this is going on, I usually would stretch and wash my face and gently wake up. A would usually sit and meditate, then do the mixing and blending and frothing stuff, then disappear. 

Me: Disappear? Like a Hobbit? 

Milly:  Hey, what’s a Hobbit? Is it like a Rabbit? You might want to be careful with the human literary references here. I’m clever, and very perceptive, not that well read though beyond Beatrix Potter and a bit of Richard Adams. 

Me: OK, sorry Milly. How would A disappear? 

Milly:  Don’t worry, I know you didn’t mean anything with your silly reference. It will cost you a treat, though. 

Me: OK. Sit. Paw. Fist bump. Other Paw. Wait. Good girl Milly. 

Milly:  You’re getting better at interviewing me at last, you know. This is not just another Major celebrity with a pretty face, sticking slavishly to the briefing from their PR and Media advisers. I’m pretty all over, you know.

Me: Can we come back to A disappearing please? 

Milly:  Ok, sure. I’ll just sit a minute though and be quiet. It’s good to be patient, and I teach it well. 

Me: (after a minute or two of Milly sitting silently, looking serene) So. A makes coffee and disappears. Can you explain a little more?  

Milly:  I think he goes to wash, change, and dress for the day. I’m glad that I don’t have a big wardrobe and all those rules about what to wear. I just wash my face, stretch, do downward dog Yoga pose, and I’m ready for the day. Every day. 

Me: That’s profound. 

Milly:  What’s profound? I hope it’s not like Daschound, as I don’t like those little yappy dogs. I tolerate them, though, as they’re not aggressive really, its only little dog syndrome – is that what you folks call it? I call it silly. Last met one when A took me to his favourite pub in Peterborough on the train. He (the Daschound, not A) started yapping even before coming into the pub, spoiling my stretching out in this quiet place. I liked the cool stone floor, and I think the beer was good. The Daschound had some nice people with him though, and they made up for him. Usually its dogs making up for owners though, in my experience. 

Me: Coming back to mornings, what else do you get up to? 

Milly:  Well, we have a routine where I usually go in the garden, except when it’s cold and wet and horrible, or I can’t be bothered moving. Then I come back in. I get a small amount of food, like A does himself, and we both have our breakfasts later in the morning. 0500 or so is early to eat breakfast for you folks. Never too early for me, so I simply eat my snack and go back to sleep in my arm chair.

Me: Armchair? Hang on Milly. Do you have a bed? I don’t like the sound of this?

Milly:  Relax. Of course I have a bed. It’s more of a day bed really. I prefer to sleep in my armchair, always have. There’s so much more character in an armchair, they’re much more complex and metaphorical, representative of the world I live in. If Dali came back as a dog, do you think he would sleep in a two dimensional bed?

Me: Ah, never thought about it like that. 

Milly:  I’d be worried if you did, as then you’d think like me. I’d find that scary. Right, I’m going to lie down and be quiet, haven’t done that for a while. See you next time. 

Me: Ok. I’ll see myself out Milly, thanks. 

Milly:  Where’s my treat? Ha ha, only joking, I’m not really a Diva – although I do like treats.