Recently I was at a school where all - or nearly all - the children had lovely old-fashioned names. All that is except one who was named Centime.

Why?

It cannot be all her parents thought she was worth - she was a lovely child (as they all were). I suppose it is quite logical in that Penny is a perfectly acceptable English name (although it does derive some respectability from being a diminutive of Penelope) and maybe that was what was in her parents' minds. Or maybe they just thought it sounded pretty; and after all it is no sillier than naming your child after a bottle of wine or a brand of handbag.

I have my own scenario based on this and the age of the class I was teaching.

It was New Year’s Eve – the very brink of the palindromic year of 2002 – and the maternity ward was full.

“I think,” said Mrs. Banks, looking up from her copy of the Financial Times, “that I shall call my twins Mark and Franc in honour of the momentous changes which come about tomorrow.”

“What change is that, Luv?” asked Mrs. Hardcastle in the neighbouring bed.

“Why, the single European currency, of course,” replied Mrs. Banks, “the day on which it will no longer be necessary to exchange all your money every time you cross a European border and the Euro will replace all the old, outmoded coins.”

“So why do you want to call them Mark and Franc?” asked Ms. Penny in the bed on the other side.

“Just to commemorate the old currencies, I suppose,” replied Mrs Banks. “Call it a whim.”

“I think that’s lovely,” said Miss Sweet from the opposite side of the ward. “What others are there?”

“Lira, escudo, schilling, peseta, drachma, tolar, koruna . . .” Mrs, Banks began.

“Oh, Koruna – that’s lovely!” exclaimed Miss Sweet. “Koruna Sweet – I really like that.”

Ms. Penny remembered a lovely holiday in Greece and thought that she might give Drachma to her baby as a middle name; and soon peseta, lira and escudo had all been chosen on similar grounds.”

Then the lady who had not spoken so far said, “I once had a lovely holiday in France; what do they use there?”

“The franc,” replied Mrs. Banks.

“Oh, but you’re using that, and anyway mine’s a girl. What else is French?”

“Well, there’s the centime . . . “ began Mrs. Banks, but she was unable to continue as Franc – or possibly Mark – indicated rather painfully that he was ready to be born, and by the time anyone remembered what they had been talking about Mrs. Banks was in the delivery room.

On his birth certificate Franc became James when his father insisted that Frank Banks was a silly sounding name, although Mark became Mark which was in any case his father’s name. Koruna Sweet became Carena, and Drachma, Lira, Peseta and Escudo were named William, Harriet, Charlotte and Joshua after the anaesthetic wore off.

Only little Centime was left with her old-fashioned monetary name.