Kiss Milly Goodbye
Welcome to our special edition of the Bogwillow Journal. We felt the recent exciting events warranted this midweek extra.
Willy Nilly Milly definitely lived up to her name yesterday. The Fenwick’s Ford Inn was ablaze with lights last night to greet the guests, which turned into pretty much everybody in town who wasn’t at home with the grippe. (Which is going around by the way, take your vitamin C!)
Milly, unbeknownst to Edna, had flown in her personal assistant and a small crew armed with decorations, hand picked from their recent trip to Paris. Chef Emile was also in the entourage for which we are all grateful I’m sure.
He put on quite a spread, although to my knowledge no one had the courage to try his ‘pate de foie gras’. We are not sure if it was reluctance to try something new, or the fact that it was shaped in an elaborate sculpture of our dear departed Tilly’s head. (Your humble editor for one, was put off by both the medium and the message.) But as a group, we did justice to all his other creations.
It must be mentioned by way of clarity that Bertha Mullin did not shove Eunice Goldenrod out of the way to get the last of the petit fours. We have it from an eyewitness that Eunice tripped over Tommy Watercress who was hiding under the tablecloth eating another piece of chocolate cake that his mother warned him would probably make him sick. (As it turned out his mother was right)
Milly was a scintillating if slightly hysterical hostess, greeting all the male guests with a ‘continental’ kiss, thus causing no small number of jealous wives and girlfriends alike. Not being totally familiar with customs on the continent, you will admit this was a bit confusing for the humble folks of Bogwillow. Although Lance Everlasting was heard to say later of Milly’s greeting, “Continental my Aunt Bertha, she had her tongue down my throat! Everyone knows that’s a French kiss. Who’s she trying to fool? I think I need a drink.”
Speaking of drink, the spirits were flowing freely too. I am afraid the champagne was not to the crowd’s taste, but the keg of beer that Milly decided on getting at the last minute after consultation with Mr. Fenwick was a big hit.
Not having had the time to make proper arrangements for an orchestra, Milly graciously invited the Stonycreek Boys to play a few sets. They kept things hopping pretty well up until the champagne she kept pouring for them kicked in and the fight broke out. But Milly, the good sport that she was, waved her hand at Mr. Fenwick’s outrage and said not to worry, just send her the bill for the damages. He was mollified and the party continued until almost 3:00 AM, an unheard of hour for revelry in Bogwillow.
If you want to send a thank you note to Milly, I am afraid you are out of luck, for the whole lot of them left willy-nilly on the first morning flight headed east. Milly was seen at the gate, heavily veiled and leaning on the arm of Chef Emile. We sincerely hope she was just suffering from a hangover and not something more serious, having to do with her rather fragile mental state.
So just in case you read this Milly, wherever you are, the town of Bogwillow thanks you for one heck of a party. We don’t know how we will ever top it!