Savvy Diary 58: Queen Bee

Disclaimer: This post contains image links to products available on Amazon, for which I do not receive any commission.

Wednesday: almost a week since I abandoned my day job for good. And what have I achieved?

A tidy study.

Okay, so a tidy study isn’t a bestselling novelette, and perhaps I could have written a seven-chapter effort in six days, but all budding authors need a space in which to write. Don’t they?

Have I been prevaricating and can I really put all responsibility for my self-distractions at the door of Mrs Hinch? Yes, I’d like to blame the Hincher, but really that wouldn’t be fair – for the following reasons:

  1. I’ve only used Zoflora once during the last six days. I soaked my vast collection of scummy dishcloths in the Twilight Garden scent. Scummy, because it was the first time I’d thought to give them a dip since … a time too long ago to be specific.
  2. My floor-mop has only been used – yes, you guessed it – once since the end-point of the day job. I did, however, use Cif’s ‘Wild Orchid’ floor cleaner, which made my kitchen smell almost as lovely as myself.
  3. Believe it or not, I have washed the crocks up a vast number of times (thanks, sprogs for keeping yourselves alive by eating) but, in Mrs Hinch’s book that doesn’t count, because I used – NOT FAIRY LIQUID –  but horror of horrors, ‘Clean and Sparkle’, i.e. at 29p it was a lot cheaper than it’s highly-recommended rival.
  4. In reality, I’ve moved on from Mrs Hinch’s  ‘Hinch Yourself Happy’ to David Walliams’ ‘The Midnight Gang’ and a very good read it is too (review coming up shortly) – a fine piece of anti-establishmentarianism.
  5. All of those floral scents (including David’s Simon-Cowell-infused perfume have made my sniffer shift my feet towards the front door of my cliff-top cave and out into my favourite nature reserve: Chilton Industrial Estate.

Long live Chilton!

And yes, I know I have blogged about Chilton before (lots of times), but every time I step out there again, I see it all with fresh eyes.


You see, it all looks totally different depending on the month, my state of mind and on which way I am facing. Never walk in circles; you will only see whatever there is to see from a singly viewpoint. Go from A to B, to a 180 degree turn and do the B to A bit. The same flowers, bushes, trees and concrete slabs will present themselves to you as a whole new world. Not convinced? Try it!

I step out ….

As usual as is usual, I resist the temptation of crunched and mashed shin-bone burgers from McDonald’s, and stride along Church Field Road, straight into the UK’s industrial heartland. I’m heading for the Post Office depo, and get there I have to pass the orange monstrosity that is the Medical Centre. Why build a spanking new service facility up a cliff on the edge of a town, rather than down in the valley where all the locals can actually get to it on foot?


This Medical Centre was supposed to be built on an area of land in Waldingfield Road, known as People’s Park, left in a wealthy local resident’s will for that specific purpose. What now has pride of place in People’s Park? A hideous Lego housing estate! Profit before people. Sure, a lot of young people may have been conned into purchasing a Lego home. But what about the long-standing elderly residents of Sudbury, who are unable to leg it up a cliff face for assistance when they require TLC for all their aches and pains?

I’m rambling? Wait, I haven’t even got onto my Belle Vue House rant yet (okay, I’ll save it for another post)!

Forget the Medical Centre. Far more interesting are the treasures in its border with Church Field Road:

I decide that the first shot (top-left) represents my younger (not very young) self in a wedding dress, stained only by a slight spillage from some sober-me-up-strong coffee (see brown smudge on my angel wing); the second (top right) depicts Mollie-Mae in a I-didn’t-win-a-fortune, after-the-final-of-Love-Island, cheap yellow number (wee-wee yellow, being her favourite colour); the third, the combined collection of zits rediscovered by the Love Island contestants, post the removal of all the fake tan stuff; and the fourth, my older self – a delicate-only-slightly-weather-worn-once-was-ginger beauty.

This walk is turning out to be a real load of fun. I will continue on:

I come across yet more Mollie-Mae yellow – this time it’s the yellow-gold 48-hour foundation provided by one of the show’s sponsors (I’m guessing one of the Essex branches of Poundland)! I see pom-pom balls made from my late granny’s mauve wool collection; Tommy Fury, donning a pink clown-wig, pushing Mollie-Mae out of the scene, so that I can get a snap of his exclusive mug-shot; a pair of less-than-fresh eyes (Maura’s minus the stick-on lashes); and last, some poison-tipped spiky things (remote controlled by Maura and heading straight for me).

And no, I don’t watch any programme other than Love Island, which is why, today, pending the show’s (and my day job’s) demise, I’m back to my blogging! I have to say, though, that Dress to Impress is coming in a close second (but why can’t the contestants ever be over the age of twenty-eight?). There must be loads of single, or about-to-be-single-if-50K-is-on-offer, middlers and oldies out there! And I’d love to see a few saggy boobs and tyres hanging out of the just-a-piece-of-string bikinis and designer dresses. Whatever happened to reality TV? We have an ageing population and the majority of us can no longer (if we ever could) squeeze into Size 6, 8, or 10 .. or even a 12, 14, 16, 18 or …. (sorry, only got as far 9 times 2, when I learnt my tables).

Reality? Yes, I’m currently journeying along Church Field Road, not Mallorca, so – just to make the location a little more exotic, I’m venturing off the main footpath, left and into the wildlands – somewhere between the Medical Centre, Lavenham Leisure and the church (a leftover from the days when Chilton was a real village with real people actually living it). Immediately, I am accosted by butterflies getting into perfect poses, and then flitting away from me  before I capture them on camera. It’s as if I’m Amber, being led on a bit of a dance by Michael; Michael the butterfly stops a wee while to grin at me, lunges in for a snog, gets bored and then chases off after another. Men!

Still, I manage, with a lot of patience, to take a few blurry shots of the action:

Then, still imagining myself to be the young and beautiful Amber, I give Michael the cold shoulder and move onto better things.

Meet Greg!


Greg appears to have a war wound in his left wing. I’m guessing this is from when Michael returned to Amber for a second snog and got a mouthful of Greg instead. But Greg’s a rugby player – he’ll tough it out and win through in the end! (Or maybe this is Jordan, after Anna’a given him a piece of her mind?)

Oh why, oh why, can’t I get Love Island out of my head? Somebody teach me the real names of these butterflies, please!

Moving on.


Here, bang smack in the middle of a suburban industrial estate, I stumble across a collection of beehives:

Come on, Babergh! How can you be callous enough to replace Queen bee territory, with a housing estate for empty-headed Lego people?

The beehives take me back – just a few years – to childhood holidays spent dodging my Grandad’s Salopian bees, whilst picking raspberries and gooseberries in his garden.  And, I realise that I can still taste the sweetness of Shropshire Honey (i.e. exactly the same as any other honey). And, my reminiscences are a welcome distraction from the goings on at Love Island.

Oh no! Why did I even mention that programme? Love Island, I’m back! Isn’t there an after-the-love-died follow up Love Island this coming Saturday? Yippee! Something to look forward to …

And, in the interim, I pop over to the other side of Church Field Road, take the public footpath alongside some warehouse, and stop off for a snack! How convenient that someone appears to have left a pack of Cherry Backwell Tarts in the bushes for me!

Whilst munching away, I take in the fantastical view of Northern Road, Sudbury’s eyesore of a bypass. Why Babergh? Why have you been joining forces with the Conservative MP, James Cartlidge, to campaign for yet another bypass? This one is already one too many!

With sordid thoughts of a coupling-up between James and Babergh, I know that it’s Time. Time to retrace my steps. Why step out and down onto that?


During the back-stepping, I spot a string of red and green beads dangling at my feet. I love the contrasting colours, but – alas – I’m wearing double-denim today. Lots of blue! The beads won’t match, so I leave be …

On my return to church Field Road, reluctant to return to the stack of dirty crocks guaranteed to welcome me home, I drift back over the road and take the footpath to St Mary’s Church.

This building was once the hub of Chilton village, but was almost swallowed up along with it’s congregation when Sudbury got greedy. I have another post, dedicated to St Mary’s, so I won’t take you inside the church on this occasion because, today, I’m heading for the golden fields beyond:

I continue on through the fields a short distance, before cutting back through to Church Field road, taking a few more pics alongside the Medical Centre en route to the washing-up!

Particularly fascinating to one such as I, is this unusual cut-off plant stem (below-middle); it rather reminds me of the disgusting worm-like veins I used to pick out of the liver that Mother Cool liked to cook for me at a certain time in every month! Hence, the reason I’m now vegetarian. Far more pleasing to my weary eye (the other eye’s completely given up on any claim to freshness) is this pink-floaty bohemian number (below-right).

Now, if I could somehow find a cheap High Street imitation of this designer look, I would become an even bigger internet sensation than any of the young novices on Love Island.

Here goes:

The dress above isn’t quite what I’ve got in mind. I’m thinking of something with tassles and wings, rather than a dance dress straight out of an American High School Prom. But I suppose that’s what a blogger gets if thy sign up to! I’ll take a look at the version:

I like the rose-pink sophistication of this look (top-row-middle), but it’s still not completely me!

Perhaps this fancy-dress Princess look?

Still not doing it for me!


This floaty-dressing-gown look?

Sod it! Stuff the shades of pink – I’m no wallflower.  Jay Cool is here to be noticed:

And why be a worker, when one can be the Queen?

Yes, I agree. The above number is very me!

I have just  shared with you the best of my photos from a land destined to be a new housing estate.

Save Chilton!


Copyright owned by Jay Cool, July 2019

Image by istdasso0 from Pixabay


Silly Diary 62: Chilton Snapper

Silly Diary 61: Lost Chilton

Published by The Silly-Savvy Salopian

Freelance writer and descendant of the cave dweller and outlaw, Humphrey Kynaston. Banished from Shropshire for my eccentricity, I have made my home in Suffolk. I write poetry, short stories, travel journals, comedy gig reviews and non-fiction articles. My wish is to write my way back into the heart of my birth land. All writing commissions (and free holidays in Shropshire!) considered.

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