(day four and already pillaging the whatsapp chats for content)

Back in May I was at Dresden grabbing a couple of additional pairs of glasses. I have an annual optical allowance with my health insurance and it was use it or lose it.

The sweet blue-haired rockabilly salesperson and I were chit chatting and she asked if I got [real name diminutive] a lot.

Me, laughing: “People don’t generally call me that more than once. Same with [other diminutive], though I’m not too fond of [real name] if it comes to that”.

“You should change your name!” says blue-haired cool girl

Me: “I’ve wanted to do that forever, but I haven’t ever found anything compelling”

BHCG: “I really think something earthy … [ponders for some while] … I think maybe Penelope”.

And this is how Penelope** became a cypher for all I aspire to be.

penelope in basel

Penelope is an old lady; she has excellent wild old-lady hair; she is supremely cool; she is confident and comfortable in her skin; she is kind, generous and wise; she is extremely chill and relaxed; and mostly she gives few-to-no fucks. She has perspective.

Penelope mostly comes out when I am on holiday – she’s a work in progress.

The place we’re staying is like a Penelope convention – full of stylish, fabulously excellent older European women who think nothing of getting about in bikinis – utterly comfortable with themselves. I watch and hopefully I learn!

** Even though I don’t consider the name Penelope in any way earthy.