Tilley Milburn bought Del the stuffed pig for £9.99 in the Ashford branch of Clinton Cards 21 years ago. It was an unusual start to a double act that endures to this day.
Del (short for Delphine) speaks from Milburn’s mouth in a high-pitched voice about the first time she met her performance partner (who identifies as non-binary): “Yes, I was on the shelf.”
“They came along and they were quite excitable. A bit like a child really. Quite a big child, they were 20.”
Milburn laughs at the memory of buying Del. “It was full price. Normally I don’t buy anything full price. I didn’t even have the money.
“When you are in residential care, you have no money. So I was lent the money by my keyworker who was called Delphine.
“I was worried she might be offended by my calling my pig after her. But I got attached to this pig really quickly.”
In the years since, Tilley and Del have become well known as performance and visual artists often hosting events including many run by Heart n Soul. They are gearing up for a busy summer season of shows, sessions and workshops, including a series of bookings at July’s Tunbridge Wells Summer Fringe.
In the home, I would get people to speak to Del. My mum has asked to speak to Del instead of me
Milburn is 41, lives in Kent and self-describes as being diagnosed with Asperger’s and non-binary. “The thing is I get it, I know that I look female, and I am not saying that I am not gendered. I just prefer to say that I am non-binary. I just don’t like having to tick one box or the other.”
It is clear that Del gives Milburn a bridge to connect with other people. “Del is the confident one, the calm one,” Milburn says.
“Even in the care home, I would get people to speak to Del. And my mum sometimes has asked to speak to Del instead of me. Del is like the voice of reason.
“People say she is me. But she’s all the things I want to be but maybe I can’t be. She is the eye candy, and cute and different, and I am not. I often say that I would be nothing without Del.”
Delphine’s namesake
Milburn adds that before Delphine (the original one who gave her name to Del), there was a string of keyworkers.
“I became known for not staying with one for very long before I would sabotage the relationship. Even to this day, I can’t let people get too close to me. I just have an inability for it and it seems to have been like this my whole life.”
Recently, Milburn and Del went back to Ashford to mark the 20th anniversary of their meeting. Sadly, the card shop seems to have gone but they decided to have a curry to celebrate.
Milburn says “I don’t know what they thought of us there. I said I am celebrating a 20-year relationship but it’s just me and my pig sort of thing.”
How did they respond? “They were a bit rude to be honest. It felt like they were trying to rush us. We’re used to it. We seem to divide people wherever we go.”
I ask Del about her life now and she says “I love it. I don’t know if I could ever have imagined what I do now. But it’s a lot of work.”
Del refers to Milburn as “my owner” which seems to make Milburn a little exasperated. “I don’t know why she keeps calling me that.”
Because you bought her?
“Yes, but we don’t have that kind of relationship. I like to feel that we are equal to each other. Don’t you feel, Del?”
Del is not so sure: “Well it’s hard to say that we are equal. If I don’t get paid then how am I equal? They say that they pay the bills and they pay the rent and they have to deal with the tax return and the invoices and the admin.”
Milburn sighs “Yes, all those things that you can’t do. And you wouldn’t want to do them, trust me. I wish to God that I didn’t have to do those things.”
What would Del use money for anyway? Del quickly replies “Well, I don’t have many clothes. And we like holidays.”
Ah, yes, but would the bank actually let a stuffed toy open a bank account? Del shoots straight back: “Well that’s inequality for you isn’t it?”
The pair have developed group sessions called Puffing and Wooling. They are hard to describe and, although cushions and soft toys are involved, they are definitely for adults.
People say she is me. But she’s all the things I want to be but maybe I can’t be. She is the eye candy, and cute and different, and I am not
There is a Puffing and Wooling podcast in which Milburn and Del chat over a tinkling keyboard and the sound of a snuffling hamster. Milburn puts it simply: “We delight in making you feel good.”
Puffing and Wooling is often advertised at nightclubs and events as a workshop but Milburn says there are none of the skills training and planned outcomes you would expect at a workshop.
“It is a time and space to be in the moment, whatever that might mean, with whoever we end up with.”
One of the most successful Puffing and Wooling events happened when, by chance, the group consisted of about 10 people in their 50s and 60s.
None of them knew each other yet they were comfortable spending an hour reminiscing about favourite TV programmes and games and toys from when they were young.
Milburn produces some impressive testimonials. “If you want cuddles, this is the best place to come without a doubt,” reads one. “It makes you feel young again. It makes you feel cosy and warm inside out. It will lower your blood pressure for sure.”
Beyond praise
I tell her that the last comment in particular is great. “Yes” says Milburn, “that was from my mum.”
Nonetheless, Milburn’s mother is very honest and “does not give praise too openly”. There are many more testimonials from people who are not relatives and, as Del adds: “I love it anyway. Isn’t that what’s important?”
Milburn and Del also worked on Believe in Us, a two-year project run by Oxleas NHS Foundation Trust and Heart n Soul to make NHS services in the south east more accessible and less confusing for people with autism and learning disabilities.
The project involved people who use services, professionals and artists such as Milburn and Del and produced recommendations and resources like a jargon buster and videos to train NHS staff.
Life is not always so positive though. Milburn tells me about a recent attempt to become a volunteer with a Kent tourist attraction.
“I thought they would be impressed. I was honest. I said I am running a business. I am learning to drive. I am living independently but I am autistic. That one word in amongst there, and it was ‘no’. They said ‘we can’t have people like you’.”
What is worse is that Milburn was already a season ticket holder at the attraction. “Well, I am obviously a fool. They want my money but they don’t want me.”
Milburn looks at me and asks “Does it upset you?” I realise my feelings must be showing on my face. “Yes,” I say, because I feel like things are stacked against the artist.
But, through work with Del, the performer and artist presents a different, more hopeful perspective on life. A hug seems inappropriate but Del comes to the rescue.
And so it is that the afternoon ends as Del the pig and I share a sympathetic hug while Milburn looks on with quiet approval.
Tilley and Del are appearing at Tunbridge Wells Summer Fringe
