Sylvia Junge

For 22 years, Sylvia was my neighbour, fellow director and, most importantly, my friend.

She was kind, always upbeat, and loved bringing people together. She was certainly a character, and life was never dull in her company.

As fellow directors, we didn’t always agree, but fortunately a glass of wine had a remarkable way of improving both our opinions! She governed our 68-flat development with an iron fist, but her dedication and high standards kept it looking pristine, something we all benefited from.

She will be greatly missed as a friend and neighbour, but she will never be forgotten. Thank you for your friendship, your laughter, and everything you did for our community. Rest in peace.

I met Sylvia in 1987, the new music teacher with an unpronounceable surname that caused much hilarity amongst my peers. Sylvia was my A-Level music mentor and a supporter of all my musical ambitions, convincing me when I left school that I could actually do it.

She came to many of my really very bad and very loud early gigs and we also shared lots of random road trips, curries and multiple glasses of wine. We enjoyed lots of playing together on many of Peter’s keyboard instruments at the house in Ham, at numerous parties and accompanying ‘The Boyfriend’ together on two grand pianos; the one and only time we would actually perform publicly together.

Sylvia’s approval was of huge importance to Elisa when we first met and of course, Sylvia shared our wedding with us in 1996.

We maintained close contact, talked and tried to meet up regularly over the following 30 years, before and after our children were born.
It would never have been enough.
Sylvia was one of the first I messaged when Elliott booked his first West End Lead, when Alice gave birth to our granddaughter last year and, this summer, Ewan was set to quiz Sylvia about which conservatoires to apply to; she who knew everyone in and everything about the business.

Every year after every birthday text I received a similar reply. “I’m still alive” or “I’m not dead yet”.

Unfortunately death catches up with us all in the end.
Few however will lead such an extraordinary life well lived.

Exit stage left… I’ll miss you Mrs J

Much love.

Matt and family x

When I think of Sylvia, 3 things come to mind; laughter, music and wine - not necessarily in that order.
Sylvia was more than a family friend and it felt like she was like one of those members of the family who you don’t see for a while and then come to stay and instantly bring joy. I can’t remember the time that she wasn’t in our lives. she would entertain us with her fascinating anecdotes and occasionally with musical interludes. I particularly fondly remember sunbathing with her in the garden whilst she helped me with my French revision.
After Dad died, she regularly sent Mum postcards, a small but significant thoughtfulness which we greatly appreciated.
She is missed.

Sylvia

I tried to sing in Sylvia’s school choir in 1960. We sang lustily, we sixth-form boys, “Gaudeamus igitur iuvenes dum sumus.” Well I think the others sang lustily, but I was too innocent then to summon up any lust. I can still see Mrs Groom conducting and smiling. It was a happy time.

Then years passed before we met again.

Keith and I kept on and off in contact, and then, 10 or 20 years ago we began to meet as a little group of Wembley Old Grammarians.

Latterly we have met with Sylvia in various places in west London, most recently at her local, the Kings Head at Teddington. Astounding that 83 year olds could still meet up with their teacher! Sadly our last meal there with Sylvia on 14 May was not to be.

So my closer friendship with Sylvia only dates from recent times. I hope, in the small way I could, I supported her in Max’s passing. And she did like my flowery shirt, though no-one else remarked upon it or maybe even noticed it. What was very pleasing was that I could share my love of music with her, and she with me. Earlier this year, she gave me some very reassuring advice on how to organise some piano recitals in Winchester, by a well-loved former teacher and performer here. And of course it was always great to chat and laugh with her.

Happy lifetime memories of a dear friend and inspiring teacher.

Once, in the late 50s, in a Wembley County School morning school assembly I was caught singing in tune, a very rare occurrence, and was instantly recruited into the school choir as Sylvia Groome, our recently appointed, young and immensely popular music teacher, was desperately shorty of tenors, really desperate. But it was all great fun, which was a totally new experience for the choir. We seemed to get on surprisingly well, as Sylvia took me under her wing, perhaps recognising that while I had no skill in reproducing music, I had a great appreciation of it. Peter, her first husband, blew my mind with his stereo headphones, at the time a spectacular advance in HiFi for common mortals like me. They took me, once in Peter’s Austin A30 van and later in his Lagonda, to stay in their(?) cottage in North Wales, amongst an incredibly entertaining group of friends, one of whom had a hydroelectric dam in his “back garden”. On another occasion they took me to visit an old class mate of Sylvia’s, Julian Bream. He was out. But she certainly knew how to open the eyes of a young lad from suburbia, to another world, not just of music.

We lost contact as we went our separate ways until some years later we met up again through our mutual great friend and school contemporary, Stella Davies. Since then, we’ve met on a fairly regular basis with other Wembley school playmates, Heather Adlam (nee May) and Philip Morgan; Sylvia always so full of joy and positivity. Her tales about her amazing life were bewildering; no wonder we lost contact.

Another shining light has gone out from the world. I will miss Sylvia dearly.

Sylvia was a resident of Elton Close for decades. She knew everyone and everything, and worked incredibly hard on the Residents Association for many years, making Elton Close the lovely place it is to live. She will be very much missed.

Thank you Sylvia - we will miss you waving from the balcony! The Close won't be the same without you.

All your friends and neighbours xx

It's very sad news, but what a life she led! Such extraordinary energy and full of unfailing devotion to her friends. We should maybe all thank Sylvia particularly for her unstinting years of support of Max through thick and thin. She always seemed to be there to assist him especially through his difficult final years of illness. She lifted the spirits of whatever room she entered with what I called in a WhatsApp to her, her "room-lighting smile". She still had it when I visited days before she died. As indomitable as ever and still bright as a button even though she was obviously so desperately ill. A rare and precious lady indeed, sorely missed of course, but she'll always be remembered. No doubt about that!

Sylvia came into my life through my friendship with Peter Maxwell Davies. I met her first at the Oxford performance of the Doctor of Myddfai with the Welsh National Opera in 1996. Although Max couldn’t be there, he wanted me to attend, so I did. We met again in May 1999 at the Festival Hall foyer after the Endymion Ensemble performed my Pumping Iron. Max was at the concert.

Sylvia and I spoke at the bar and got on very well. She was loud, vivacious, opinionated, knew everyone, bright and articulate, with a wit as sharp as a razor. I loved it, and her, and was magnetically drawn in. We became firm friends soon after. Sylvia and I affectionately adopted each other—she as my “Mama,” me as her son (she had no children and my mother died when I was 15)—reflecting our deep bond through Max. I sent her a Mother's Day card each year to celebrate our bond.

Sylvia went on to manage my work as a composer for free for about a year. With her best friend Stella Davies, she created and distributed publicity brochures, arranged career meetings, and organised “print parties” in London where signed limited-edition digital prints of my work were viewed and sold over wine and nibbles.

In 2000, Sylvia stayed on Skye with me and my family of Mark Hewitt, Jane, and my two sons, Lucas and Francis. I then drove her to visit Max on Sanday. We stayed there for a week drinking fine wine, enjoying Max’s cooking, going out for day trips and endlessly laughing. It was a time for wicked observations of our contemporaries in the music world. I utterly loved it.


In 2001, I appointed Sylvia as project manager, responsible for travel arrangements, food, accommodation, and schedules for the Five Islands Project held on the Scottish Islands of Skye, Orkney, Shetland, Mull and Lewis with people over 70 years old. I returned to the participants I had taken painting classes with and introduced them to the musicians Sarah Watts, Danielle Braun and Rosie Banks. Together, we worked with the participants to find ways of interpreting the paintings produced previously as sound. Each person worked one-to-one with a musician and, through drawing and instruction, helped shape the improvisatory responses the players produced when ‘reading’ their paintings. The project concluded with a concert and exhibition on each island. It was a wild adventure to some extremely remote locations (I drove the mini bus). We were like a band on tour. It was huge fun.


As a mark of friendship, I dedicated several works to Sylvia across the years: October Piece no. 12 from October Pieces (piano, 2000–2001); The Sea Bell’s Perpetual Angelus (piano solo, 2003), premiered in 2004 at an exhibition of my paintings in Chard organised via Sylvia’s contact David Barnes; Black Bile (ensemble, 2012), premiered by Thumb Ensemble at Birmingham Conservatoire on 8 January 2013; Observation 7 (small ensemble, 2016), performed in 2017 at La Mama Courthouse, Carlton, Victoria, Australia; [and] a powerful flame came out of the earth […] (orchestral, 2019); and new land (ensemble, 2021), and in 2024, a harpsichord piece called vague or maybe missing.
Sylvia and Stella financed the 2004 Chard premiere, performed by Sarah Nicolls among my paintings. It coincided with my 40th birthday. Mark joined us. Sylvia also threw a fortieth birthday party for me in her London flat. Lovely friends who I’d met through Sylvia gathered there, including the pianist Piers Lane.

Sylvia joined our family holidays in Salcombe, Devon, and Charmouth, Dorset, and our 2007 trip to Sardinia with Sarah Watts, Jane, me, and my boys. Although living in London, a long way from us on Skye, Sylvia was definitely part of the family and dearly loved by all.

I relocated to Crewkerne in 2009. In June 2013, Sylvia and I visited Max at University College Hospital, London, where he was receiving treatment for advanced leukaemia. At this time and as his closest friend, Sylvia was managing much of his personal business. During the visit, Sylvia had a call informing her of the death of Max’s former partner, Colin Parkinson, in Kirkwall. Sylvia told Max who was visibly shocked and distressed. She had to leave the hospital on urgent business and charged me with staying with Max to support him following the shock news. I stayed over several hours offering whatever support I could. I think it helped. Unfortunately, Max passed away on 14 March 2016 at age 81. Sylvia was utterly devastated, as was I.

Sylvia and I kept in contact regularly and latterly by video call. I’d visit her at her flat whenever I was in London. One one such visit, on the 25th October 2021, Mark and I had lunch with Sylvia before Ian Pace premiered my piano piece cold kitchen hill at City, University of London that evening. What I first thought was digestive discomfort after lunch proved to be the onset of my heart attack. By the 28th I was in hospital after collapsing twice out walking. I nearly died. Nothing to do with Sylvia’s cooking, of course!

Going forwards, we kept in regular contact with email chat, phone calls and a video call every few months. Mark and I would also meet up in person with Sylvia and Stella on their annual visits to ‘The Club’ at Bishop’s Lydeard in Somerset where we were royally treated to lunch. There was always much to catch up with and Sylvia was always very keen to know what was happening with my music and painting, with Mark, Jane and of course, Lucas and Francis as their lives unfolded. We were all part of her extended family. As well as the love between us, there was always raucous laughter.

Our last video chat was mid March, just before she was going to France with Chris Austin. We laughed so much and chatted for 45 minutes. Sylvia looked well and was as bright as a button. She sent photos of wine and cheese from France.

The next I heard, was that she had died on the 3rd of June following a short illness. This came as a total surprise to me.

Shocked and devastated doesn’t cover it. I would have liked to have been able to say goodbye in person.

With love, Mama

I worked with Sylvia for many years at Kingston College and took many piano lessons with her. My youngest son was also lucky enough to be taught by her. We will miss her terribly.
She had such an amazing personality, nothing ever seemed to phase her, and we loved listening to her incredible stories and the adventures she went on. She will be sorely missed.
Xx Chris , Carol and family xx

I am very saddened to hear of Sylvia's passing. While we lived far apart and did not see each other frequently my memories of her are very, very clear. She was a warm,vibrant, creative, energetic person with an independent approach to life.She approached life with emotion and an open mind.
They truly threw away the mould after she was born
She will be very much missed by all who knew her

I'm very sad to learn of Sylvia's death. I can't think what brought me to look for her name online today but something explicitly has. I'm so pleased to be able to write this.

I met Sylvia in April 1976 at Kneller School in Twickenham. She was "Music", I was "English". On my first nervous visit to the staffroom to meet my colleagues, she breezed in - full of colour and life and welcome, confident and irreverent, knowledgeable and sophisticated, and very beautiful. We continued as colleagues through Waldegrave School, working together with pupils in school plays and events, and doing lunch with other staff in the Prince Blucher etc on Fridays - I think until 1986, when our careers diverged. I had not known that she looked after Max when he was ill until I read it above. She never presented it like that. We worked distantly together. again in the early 00s at Kingston College. When that ended, regular lunch took over, which covered the bases, mainly lots of life-enhancing laughter, until I left London and then it was Christmas cards. Hers was always the first to arrive in early December.

I learned from her that there is a "musical" way of going on which musicians get and the rest of us can only admire. She took that into her teaching, the children could share in it too.

Sylvia has made my life richer and better through decades and I am very grateful to her.

Dear Sylvia, you were such fun to be around - a real force of nature. Your care and love for Max was beyond comparison. I will always remember that last dinner together in London, the several bottles of vino, and the laughter. I will also never forget the compassion you showed to me over Max's passing. May you rest in peace. Mike x

I was given as a gift, piano lessons at the tender age of 60 by my daughter (Holly)....an ex pupil of Sylvia's and co worker at Kingston.
At my first (ever) piano lesson with Sylvia I said 'is it possible to teach old dogs new tricks'. Sylvia said she always liked a challenge...... nearly 9 yrs later, this dog is proud of his new talents.
I loved and looked forward to every session with Sylvia. A great teacher, conversationalist and over time a good friend.
Thank you Sylvia. You are greatly missed.
Frank

I taught with Sylvia at Kingston college. I loved all her stories and spending time with her at the students gigs and evenings out. She was always very non-judgmental and encouraging particularly when I was going through a difficult phase in my life. I feel privileged to have known her.

Dear Sylvia, with all good wishes to you. We will always remember your enthusiasm for your father in law Alfred Junge, Production Designer of A Matter of Life and Death.
"One is starved of Technicolor up there" From Nigel & Ewa forever!

Dear Sylvia, it was such a pleasure to meet you through my role at the BFI, working with (amongst other things) Alfred Junge’s production designs I’m so pleased we were able to become friends and I miss our regular lunch dates and your reports back from your travels and our mutual friends in. Paris and Austin. Thinking of you with a smile and a tear in my eye, love Nathalie xxx

Dear Sylvia,
I will always remember you showing me how to use DuckDuckGo, the privacy-focused search engine you knew before everyone else did.
I will always remember your beautiful blue eyes, and how delighted you were when you got a new pair of matching blue glasses.
I will always remember you sitting behind us at the Sabbath rehearsals, quietly taking everything in.
I will always remember you saying you needed to get to the pub early to take the first round of orders.
Most of all, I will always remember your warmth, your kindness, and the love you brought into every room you entered.
I will always remember you.
Rest well, Sylvia. ❤️