Many will know or JA, or more properly Jean Awdry Aldersey Taylor, from her lady-about-town activities in recent years with her dutiful carer Ellie, but her association with and love of Hay and the surrounding country goes back longer, far longer.

She came to live in Hay in 1997, moving into Chancery Court just opposite her beloved friend Rachel Sheppard (better known under her painting name of Windham), who persuaded her of the convenience and benefits of living in this lovely town. Rachel’s friendship with JA went right back to their school days together.

JA’s funeral in All Saints, Glasbury on 30th May marked the closure of a cycle of events that began when her grandfather, Hubert Griffith, was the first vicar of All Saints, from 1883 until 1923. He and his wife Marion lived in the rambling red brick vicarage almost opposite in Cwmbach, fallen into disrepair in recent years but which I am glad to see is now being renovated. There they had two sons and three daughters, one of whom was Monica, JA’s mother.

Monica worked as a Voluntary Aid Detachment nurse in the Post Office Hospital in London, which treated wounded soldiers during WW1. It was presumably there that she met her husband-to-be Ralph, JA’s beloved father. He fought and was gassed in France, but later recovered sufficiently to fight in Egypt, Palestine and, in 1919, in Russia against the Bolshevik uprising. In the latter campaign Britain was ultimately unsuccessful but Ralph won the MC for his efforts.

They were married by Hubert in All Saints in 1919 and JA was born in 1923. She was baptised there too but went on to spend her early years in Sri Lanka (Ceylon as it was then) where her parents ran a tea plantation. Because Ralph’s lungs were still damaged by the gas, he was advised to live somewhere warm, so they joined Monica’s brother who was already in Ceylon.

JA was returned to England for education from the age of 9 and it was to a small boarding school in Bedfordshire, run by Rachel’s parents, that she came. Here she also met Ann Ashburner, who became another life-long friend. Ann went on to marry Nigel Rodney, and it was their children that JA taught how to fart, earning her nickname of The Rude Aunt Awdry!

When older she moved to another school near Kidderminster in 1937 and then at the outbreak of WWII she signed up for the Women’s Royal Naval Service (Wrens). She was stationed at the Admiralty in Bath and served as a driver to many dashing and high-ranking officers.

Meanwhile her parents had moved back to England and took on a small farm near Much Marcle in Herefordshire, the home of Westons, for which they provided cider apples and perry pears. JA married Siegfried and bought and ran a farm of their own near Newent, Gloucestershire, but their marriage lasted only a few years. Through her naval contacts she later met my father Noel Taylor, and they moved to Hampshire and were married. Noel’s work was then in Portsmouth and London and JA ran a busy household with 3 children by Noel’s previous marriage, me when I arrived, plus ran a pre-school nursery in the house.

Sadly this arrangement was not entirely to her liking and in 1970 she moved back to Herefordshire, this time to Byford, where we lived in a converted stable with a big garden – JA had retained her farming instincts and her love of gardening and the outdoors. Nevertheless, she remained in contact with her stepchildren right until the end – if a friendship is worth having, it’s worth doing well!

After 25 years it became apparent that the lack of facilities in Byford, and with the only means of escape being by car onto the fast and busy A438, this would not suit someone who might soon have to give up driving. So, she cast around and found Hay.

It wasn’t like she was a stranger in town – she already knew many people in the area and had been coming to the Festival since its early days. She quickly fitted into the Hay spirit and social life and made many new friends too, becoming the Queen of Hay, an unofficial rival to King Richard Booth!

Here she felt she had come home. In her own happy words…
Hurray! Hurray! My thoughts are of Hay.
There shall I go or here shall I stay?
From away, for a day in Hay?
For awhile in Hay in the middle of May?
Hurray! Hurray! I have settled in Hay.
Not for a day, not for a while,
But in Hay, Hurray! For ever.