One of the problems associated with living in a relatively small city is that there are a limited number of places in which to remain anonymous.
Anonymity matters to me inasmuch as I have a family who may suffer from my strong on-line opinions. It's not fair that they should be effected by this, hence my tag and my efforts to remain in the shadows. I have, under my tag, been threatened with all sorts of things, principally by the nutjobs on A Western Heart. Don't go there.
Anyhow, I went out this morning to transact some minor business at my bank which is located in one of the large shopping centres. It was obviously the morning when the kids from the local special school were doing their Skills for Living training.
This involves being given a shopping list and a defined amount of money, and assigned to the task of purchasing these items. It's a good programme, designed to equip them for independent living when they leave school.
Their supervisors (Teachers and Teacher Aides) hover about, trying to remain as much as possible in the background, at the same time making sure they're safe and out of trouble. Some of these kids have severe autism, so supervision is necessary.
This is all OK, except that these are all kids who were attending my school five years ago when I "retired" and they all remember me. Unfortunately for me, I don't remember their names as well as they remember mine. So I get claimed loudly every time, and then have to stammer my way through a conversation without using their names. Sometimes, they're wearing backpacks with names on and that helps. They usually great me loudly, with great enthusiasm, and everyone within ten metres is well and truly aware of the situation.
Anyway, they're great kids, and I guess I should be pleased that they remember me well. It's just a bit embarrassing.