Pakenham Village Tributes : Jean Frazer

I first met Jean the week she moved to Pakenham. Spring 1984. I had come to the Mace Shop
and next to it my eyes met with this Aladdins Cave, a vision of delight and wonder. Only a
fellow book-a-holic would understand the impact a second hand, yea verily, it has to be second
hand, book shop has on the senses. I can still remember the experience. There was Jean, this
tiny lady, who quietly welcomed me into her home, as well as her shop. From then on I was
hooked, and before long I was one of the Frazonians !

The shop seemed to put out this magic beam to like-minded adults. I was lucky to meet many like-minded addicts and many interesting people. We would be asked into the "snug" for coffee, and Jean was happy to allow every one into this world of Art, Literature and laughs. She said sometimes a book or item would be in the shop for weeks and then she would go in one morning, move it to another place and the next person in always bought it. It was as if she had sent out some telepathic message to them. Sometimes she would be busy at the back of the shop or in her house, come out and find 50p or £1 sitting by her Edwardian cash box. A customer had come in, helped themselves to an item and left the money!

Only people who really knew her could appreciate her true worth to the world. What lay behind this tiny person was a vast amount of wisdom, humour and philosophical worldliness I have never met in anyone else. She came out with amazing statements, all her own thoughts; so many I have collected them in a book. Here are a few of them:-

Someone else's bread and butter is better than your own.
No one can throw their own rubbish away.
You always remember the things you didn't buy.

Jean travelled the world, including America and Cyprus where her sons lived. She always used public transport, which gave her the opportunity for many adventures. I used to tell her that she would make a good Miss Marple. A tiny old lady who noticed everything.

Not only foreign travel gave her adventures. Only a year ago she went by bus to Framlingham to meet up with her relations who were visiting there. Her nephew is a tennis tutor to a wealthy Russian's son. His "minder" insisted on driving Jean back to Stowmarket in a darkened windowed black limousine.

On a visit to an airshow, which her daughter organised, she arrived to find her daughter had gone home, so she was offered a lift in a small plane from Duxford Airfield to Cambridge Airfield near to her daughters home.

Amongst her many talents was making paper from plants. She and I would cycle out to collect bullrushes, dandelions and seed heads, which she metamorphosed into works of art. She also made beautiful marbled paper.

One of my daughters told me she knew for sure there was no Father Christmas when she had her stocking presents wrapped in Jeans marbled paper !

Some people if they lived to be 200 will still be missed. One of those is Jean.
A kind, generous, humorous, wise and wonderful person. Greatly loved and greatly missed by everyone who knew her.

PV&CN - May 2013