As I start to wash up, I remember that evening when Penny, Hamish and Isla were here, drinking wine in the garden; how reluctant she seemed to have her work celebrated. And her prickliness over Hamish’s Rolling Stones remark: ‘All anyone wants are the old hits that everyone knows.’ But she doesn’t have to know; at least, not in the early planning stages. We could keep it under wraps. We could go all out to gather in as many original Girl Friday pieces as possible, then set them all out to show her, and tell her what we’ve been up to – in secret.

She’ll be thrilled! In fact, I suspect she’ll be overwhelmed. I know Penny is rightly proud of what she achieved, even though she tends to underplay it. It’s understandable, I guess. She admits that it had a ‘shelf life’, and ultimately Girl Friday went the way of the poncho at the start of the Eighties, possibly in a messy and unpleasant way. Although she’s never divulged who her backers and business partners were, she couldn’t have established and grown her fashion empire from her market stall takings.

So, yes, Girl Friday died a possibly painful and ugly death. Perhaps that’s why Penny seems unwilling to recognise the impact she had, and why she shrugged off the suggestion of getting involved with the museum at all. Maybe – and I still find the possibility hard to believe – she views herself as a failure.

It strikes me now that, whenever we talk about those days, it’s usually me who’s brought it up. Izzy, who adores dressing up, isn’t shy of quizzing her either. However, Penny’s designs were fabulous; high fashion with instant appeal, yet apparently extremely well made, due to her attention to detail. So the chances are, there are plenty of pieces still in circulation. Surely vintage stores must have the odd item; collectors too. There might even be some stashed in wardrobes, possibly still worn.

It’s entirely feasible, I decide. I’d imagine the museum has virtually no budget, but that’s okay; pieces could be borrowed, then returned to their owners after the event. When I worked in theatre I often pulled together productions with hardly any cash. I’m used to operating on a shoestring; in fact, I love the challenge.

My heart is racing now as I make a vow to myself to put together a proposal for a fashion show and exhibition, with all the details worked out. I’ll take it to the management team at Isla’s museum – not for money (I’m aware that there isn’t any), but because it will be a brilliant project, in the way that The Wetland Wanderer is brilliant.