Sylvia Adams (3 Jun 1931 - 3 May 2026)

Sylvia was a remarkable character who left a deep impression on those who met her. A woman who used her sharp intellect, morality, judgment, wit, kindness and love to forge a unique path.

Her many pioneering achievements and legacies included,
A 50 year career in Law. Qualifying as a solicitor one of 3 women in her law degree,
Serving as a magistrate for over 30 years. Becoming Chair of the family court.
In her 50s establishing and successfully running her solicitor’s business.
Multiple community services including 30 years as a school governor and a long term Curry Mallet round window volunteer

Sylvia had a deep love of countryside, animals, particularly horses, dogs and latterly birds.
And the achievement and legacy she was most proud of and closest to her heart was meeting and marrying Maurice and building a life and thriving family including much loved grandchildren on the farm.

Sylvia’s life of nearly 95 years was like many in that it could be divided into distinct segments and I am going to start with the most recent, when most of us would have known her, yet not have been presented with the whole of her.

Around 15 years ago, dad’s eyesight deteriorated rapidly and whilst they both wanted to continue living in their cottage, it necessitated a growing and unremitting level of support. With Justin being their landlord and neighbour, the first core of responsibility fell upon him and then developed further and further outward, through family, friends and professionals. However both pushed against increasing frailty continually, in mum’s case last month wanting to know when her next GP appointment was and attending a 90th birthday party in Long Sutton. Her circle of support helped her continue to be her own indomitable self, keeping her acuity and allowing her a good quality of life.

Even before that, health issues hovered occasionally yet acutely over a lengthy period such that on more than one occasion we thought that neither of our parents would see out the year.

We are therefore all immensely grateful to the numerous people that assisted in so many areas. Most recently, the team at Beauchamp House who have been exceptional, indeed off the scale in their professionalism. We have been particularly struck at how the individuality of residents is celebrated, but also importantly the carers and team members - an extraordinary delivery by a corporation behind the scenes, yet a loving home out front, full of characters. We could see that mum seemed continually elevated by her stay there.

Also our minds go back to the succession of carers at Somerset Care, again bringing out the empathy and charm upon which Sylvia thrived. Relationships and conversation were part of her DNA and yielded a vibrancy and often a humorous, indeed naughty streak to the benefit of those that ran with it. Likewise her long involvement at the Curry Mallet Round Window Club, firstly as a helper then eventually a client brought much fulfilment and joy.

Today all four of Maurice and Sylvia’s children and now five grandchildren are able to be thankful for their longevity – not only that but they had a long marriage of 59 years. We all acknowledge our fortune in this regard, appreciating that this is something that is not afforded to all. In return, they had the fortune to see four children with independent minds choose their own paths.

The benign and benevolent hands off approach by our parents was largely valued by us but has the obvious side effect of a mother to some extent slowly formulating
her own redundancy letter as advocate. Mum’s enthusiasm for our life choices was boundless, however her being obliged to retire as a magistrate at 70 and soon after her stepping down as Governor of Bruton School for Girls, ‘Sunny Hill’, combined to yield a sense of loss and frustration. It was supremely difficult for her to absorb this, having mastered both for decades and it raised issues of confidence and brought struggles and dark times. At points we lost the person we knew, and we were desperate. It was always good when she came back to us, and particularly in the last couple of years to see her so happy.

However through all times, safe ground for mum was always erudition and intellect, ever stimulating herself with a good read and latterly an interesting range of television. High-brow one minute then progressing to making slightly lewd comments about Monty Don, continual repeats of Downton Abbey and also The Crown. She particularly enjoyed the latter, explaining that it was enhanced by her having experienced first hand the whole of Queen Elizabeth’s reign.

Television was also well placed to draw out her love of humour, whether absurdity or repartee and it was not unusual to see her crying with laughter at slapsticks, out-takes or comedic set-ups. I recall a horse chewing an outside broadcast presenter’s hat that set her off. Real-life comedic visualisations equally provided fertile ground – once when we were lined up at a funeral around 40 years ago, a hearse en-route to another location in the graveyard contained a huge floral display with the letters M U M – “Don’t even think about it” she muttered whilst elbowing me in the ribs. Later she had an embroidered oven mitt with a slightly abstract image of a lion on it which she named Judge O’Malley because she occasionally sat in court alongside the chap it resembled.

Her intellect was also stimulated in later years by travel and new experiences, exploring history. Numerous local pub lunches featured highly however her and dad travelled widely to New Zealand, the United States, Asia and despite our expressed reservations due to their age, to China. Mum enjoyed a forensic and investigative approach to such trips, repeating extraordinary detail many years later. She embraced people from different cultures, welcoming them into the family. This was particularly poignant in her last couple of years, where she developed deep friendships at Beauchamp House, her second family. Most recently she kept an Atlas in her room and enthusiastically asked the carers to point out where they originated. Sylvia had interests and was interesting – and many of the kind words we have received this week reflect how this landed on others. Much of her time at Beauchamp House was spent making people laugh.

Sylvia was born in Westbury in 1931 to John Barwick and his second wife Hilda. The family home was Croft Cottage in Farrington Gurney. She was born into a house of sorrow due to the loss of the mother of her brother Norman and sisters Edna and Connie. As she followed two stillbirths, Sylvia was christened within 3 days. She was a bundle of positivity and energy on centre stage and proved to be last of war generation – tough and made of steel. A storyteller, who provided not only her experiences, advice and wisdom of her 95 years, but also recounting those from the previous generation. She remained in awe of her brother and sisters throughout her life and then of their children – always up to speed on the whole family.

Sylvia took her mischievous streak through her whole life. As a little girl she wrote her name in the fresh concrete at Croft Cottage, then at boarding school was leader of gang of girls who sneaked out at night to dig up artichokes in the school garden because they hated eating them, and stealing boaters hanging from pegs in the boys school. She liked to shock, recently reciting risque limericks, and flirting with the young male staff at Beauchamp House. Only last month she treated me to an impression of grunting guttural noises that emanated from Edward Heath when she once had the unfortunate task of taking him breakfast in bed whilst completing her articles in Westminster.

At home, Sylvia was surrounded by intelligent articulate women who had been unable to access education with consequent limitations on their lives. She grabbed the educational opportunities for schooling (boarding at Sunny Hill Girls School and Law degree at Bristol University). She forged a path in a profession that was a male domain, ruled by the boys club. Never portraying herself as a victim but finding a new route and definitely not squandering or wasting the chances. Then striving and struggling to bring these educational opportunities to the next generations.

One particular manifestation of her education was her love of poetry. Throughout her life she would quote lengthy passages, often with the legendary glint in her eye. A particular memory as children was her reciting Hilaire Belloc – More Beasts for Worse Children. Her ability to remember such volumes of material was extraordinary, MI6 would have grabbed her if she had gone to Cambridge rather than Bristol. May be they did, not knowing is the point really.

One day at Farrington Gurney garage, a young man doffed his cap to her. Sylvia’s mother advised that this was a young farmer who had recently taken over a Duchy tenancy in the village. What could be better? A tall dark handsome, ex Royal Engineer, Nottingham and Cambridge university rugby playing man and rugged farmer. The ultimate action hero – strong and silent.

As we all know full well, alongside every great man is a greater and, even more importantly, saner woman. Despite mum’s training and standing in the area of law, dad had a slightly more diffident attitude to some of its finer points. Trips back from Taunton Market in the farm van would often end up in a

conversation with the Avon and Somerset constabulary. They would wait and watch by Creech Castle and then use a layby further towards the motorway to pull miscreants over. The day when the van contained mixed radials and crossply tyres resulted in heated domestic conversation at home which itself was well eclipsed a while later by dad casually revealing that his shotgun licence had lapsed several years previously. (coincidentally it was the same gun that he fired out of their bedroom window at a pigeon in the garden.)

When we all moved to Curry Mallet in 1971 the farm was four times the size. The Duchy land agent Colonel Roberts asked dad if he had enough working capital. “Not really”, replied dad. Well, see how you get on anyway was the Colonel’s end of the conversation. Dad would subsequently have had immense support and advice from mum when they were close to bankruptcy in 1976.

This period gradually aligned with Sylvia needing a challenge away from the farm. She retrained as a solicitor, having been out of practise for about 18 years, a remarkably courageous and forthright thing to do. She attended a residential course at Oxford and at the age of approaching 50 had to climb over the college gates late one night to get back to her room as they had been locked.

Meanwhile her work as a magistrate flourished, moving from Chard and Ilminster to being Chair of the Family Court in Yeovil. These many areas reflected her multiple skills – advocacy, shrewdness, astuteness, pragmatism, the ability to see multiple viewpoints and alternate considerations. She had a strong sense of morality, trained to judge but then to incorporate the opposite, she had a soft side to her astuteness. She was just interested in all sorts of people and their motivations. An example of her clarity was her immediate opposition to the Iraq War, irrespective of prevailing opinion. Around that time she once looked over the top of her glasses and said “You cannot mix the executive and the judiciary” I had to go and look up what she meant.

Her service was based on responsibility and, like her personal life and relationships, wanting to do the right thing. The legal tasks were often difficult and emotionally challenging with no clear answer but huge consequences if getting it wrong. She helped people at pivotal moments in their lives, buying houses, advising on divorce, medical negligence and saving businesses. She remembered great detail about many former clients and even recently explained how she gave advice to a serviceman serving at Greenham Common who was due in Court there. He got off and after that she had a flurry of new clients from Norton Camp.

A major feature about mum was luck. We twigged this as teenagers when she would always return from a ball or dance with a raffle prize. A day at Taunton Races, admittedly in the company of a racehorse trainer based at Rock Hill, resulted in successful dual forecast. One horse was indeed tipped but the second non-rated nag was chosen merely because it had a nice name. 80 quid kerching.

The National Lottery caused great interest. Buying a ticket would be part of the aforementioned pub lunch trips. One evening in the early days of the lottery, mum was in her usual chair in the farmhouse cursing that once again she had nothing. Further examination revealed that she had in fact assembled a few numbers, the eventual result being a casual £2,800.

We also noticed in recent years a regular flow of £25 or £50 prizes on the Premium Bonds. Recently I had to look at liquidating these to pay for care. I assumed she therefore had the full allocation, however her holding was reasonably modest. It seems that even ERNIE had a soft spot for her.

Consequently if ever I was out with mum where purchasing any form of ticket was an option, I would be thrusting her to the front of the queue, barging anyone else out of the way.

Mum had a tremendous love of animals. She lost both of her parents when in her thirties and inherited her mother’s Bedlington Terrier and farm life allowed more opportunity for extending this. Mum had a number of horses and was a keen rider and a long succession of cats and dogs featured until late in her life. She also loved birds and was stimulated in recent years by the antics of various avian visitors to her window seed box. A daily task of the kind Somerset Care team a few years ago was to struggle outside through the front garden undergrowth to top it up in all weathers and we even found bird seed throughout mum’s belongings last week.

The house in Curry Mallet suited the Swallows and Amazons feel of our childhood, a place of stability and guidance. Behind the hands-off approach however was the intuition to guide us to what might have been hidden in our heads. Spotting talent and potential. In my case, I was being picked up for a new school term aged around 10 when mum thrust a letter into my hand. “What’s this?’, I asked. “You’re learning the piano”. And today I am making it full circle by playing the hymns in her memory. The second Hymn For All the Saints even relates to humour, being known as the bom bom hymn, as you will shortly appreciate.

The family grew and now includes her beloved grandchildren, of whom she was immensely proud. She and Maurice together had a huge network of friends and acquaintances, all reaping her articulation, conversation and her many anecdotes and stories. She walked in the circle of politicians, the royal family, editor of the times, judges, the family of Gustav Eiffel, but equally could resonate with anyone on the street.

As the four of us left home and returned with various friends, we grew to realise that she was interested to learn all about them, indeed the more eccentric and nuts the better. And we in turn celebrated that dad and her had such good friendships – some lasting over 70 years from Bath and Bristol.

For me, I choose in part to picture her at the end of the first third of her life, before I or even most here knew her. Her excitement of moving into Pitway Farm Farrington Gurney, the energy of planning a future with the adonis Maurice Adams, looking forward to a healthy family, to grandchildren, to friends, an induction to farming life, a vibrant engagement with the law as solicitor and later a magistrate, to further her relationship with her former school and to deploy her sharp mind continually, always wanting to do the right thing.

For that is exactly what she got.
emory of Sylvia Adams who sadly passed away on 3rd May 2026