Auntie Joan, mother of cousins Michael and Sally, was a lovely lady in many ways, but when it came to discipline, she was much like her sister, my mother, strict and swift, firm but fair. I spent many happy days and weeks there as I got on really well with my cousin Mike. There were times of course when boys couldn’t help but be boys, so with carte blanche from Mum, she was able to deal with both of us straight away before any distance crept between offence and consequences, which I suppose was best for all concerned. On the

It was a hot summer’s day during the school holidays. My sister Pat and me were having a day with our cousin Avril and our aunty Gillian in a local country park. All three of us were about the same age, 15 or 16, and we had all taken our bikes to let off some steam, despite the heat that day. Aunty Gillian set up a fold-away picnic table and chairs next to her camper van and sat in its shade reading her latest crime thriller which she seemed to digest with alarming speed. On what must have been our third or fourth

Growing up in the late 1940s and 1950s, I was no stranger to corporal punishment. My parents were strict, but more of that if anyone is interested. In junior school I had to visit the Headmistress’s office twice for discipline. The first time, I went over her knee for a solid spanking, and the second time I was required to bend over a chair for four strokes of the slipper. My co-defendant received the same. My secondary school was also strict, as were most in those days, to be fair. The cane was used by Housemasters, the Deputy Headmaster, and

When I was a teenager, probably 16, maybe 17, I was a real brat, getting into bother at the drop of a hat. It really was just a phase, because by 18 I was a totally different person. These events took place in a shopping centre in France when we were on holiday. It had been a very hot and extremely humid couple of days, and tempers were wearing a little thin. As usual, I was being a real little madam, and mum was rapidly running out of patience with me. We had been in a big supermarket shop, and before that we had

I grew up in an Irish Catholic family with two sisters, one a year older and one a year younger. My father was a police officer and mother a stay-at-home mom. My parents were very strict and definitely spanked for serious infractions. We were all spanked, usually by Dad, but Mom had no problem putting us over her knee. Spankings were typically done in our bedroom where we had to wait for Dad. He would come in for a lecture, then he would sit on the bed and we would have to take our pants down and go over his

I went to a Catholic school in Canada and getting the strap at school was the punishment for very bad behaviour. You would get the rubber strap across the palm of your hand. In addition, a note was sent to your home and then I would get spanked on my bare bottom by my father. On occasions, you would be strapped at school with others, but only one in the office at a time. Both male and females were strapped, my wife being one who got it. Her younger sister was also strapped at school and we both heard her

I attended a fairly small village primary school in East Lancashire in the late 1950s and early 1960s, and when I was about six, an incident occurred not far from the school at going-home time, around 4.00 pm. There was a small area landscaped with bushes at the bottom of the road, after the last house in the road. The side window of the house overlooked that area and, on the day in question, a few of the older boys decided to set fire to the bushes. The house was quite close to the bushes, only a few feet separated

We were in the second year at the local comprehensive school and the year was 1980. The good old days where teachers were teachers and not your friends, and where the slipper, hand or cane were commonplace. It was a Friday afternoon and the last double period, which meant dreaded double English Literature. That was bad enough at any time, but at 2.30 pm on a Friday, I couldn’t think of a worse end to the week. “OK everyone, it’s not the weekend yet. Open your books at page 46 and we will study ‘The Merry Wives of Windsor’ for the double period,”

Two friends spanked in the woods by a dog walker A long time ago, when we were either 8 or 9 years old, Pat (Patricia) and I were very good friends and spent a lot of time playing in the local park or the thick woods that backed onto it. It was the summer school holidays and by mid-August we were running out of things to do. On this especially warm day, we sought relief from the heat in the woods. We both had our wellies on as, although it was almost 30 degrees in the park, a summer storm had passed through the

This happened in Yorkshire in 1962 when I was 13. On my way back from school, I would often cut through an old orchard. I had never seen anyone there although I knew there was an isolated cottage nearby. I was making my way along the path when it was blocked by a big older man who asked me what I was doing on this land. I was a nice, polite middle-class boy and explained that I didn’t realise it belonged to anyone, which was true, but he was really rough with a strong Yorkshire accent and said that wasn’t