I am originally from Uganda, but moved to England with my mother and her then husband, who was with her for about 6 years, when I was aged 9 to 15. He is a rich man, a pastor from England. He was strict man, but easily angered. My first time of feeling his wrath was when I accidently said a swear word. I didn’t know it was a bad word. I was, at a guess, aged 11. My mum was furious with him for slapping me across my face, but he would go on and on about discipline. Lol! My first real

The first time I got the cane at school was when I was in the second year. I had already had the slipper a few times by then, both at grammar school and, earlier on, at junior school. We had a school trip to a museum and the master in charge did not keep order very well. A lot of us started to mess around and make quite a bit of noise but, unfortunately, it was just me and one other boy who were caught by a museum attendant and marched back to the master. He told us that he

May 1978 I was a pupil at a mixed middle school (junior school in some parts of the country), aged 11 and looking forward to going up to the local secondary school in September. The names of those involved have been changed. As was pretty much the norm in those enlightened days, your classroom teacher was allowed to spank their pupils, within reason, with no punishment book record. That was the preserve of the headmistress and deputy headmistress. Both male and female teachers were allowed to spank boys and girls in those days, and the teacher could punish how they wished, again within

My father was a civil servant with the Foreign Office and often attended meetings all over the world. Mum usually stayed at home, or if not I would stay with Aunty Peggy who only lived 5 minutes away. One particular summer holiday, father was to attend a week-long series of meetings in New York and mum was desperate to go, so Aunty Peggy was drafted in as cover. She was a spinster and enjoyed the company. However, two days before the trip, Aunty Peggy was rushed into hospital with gallstones and was to be kept in until she could be operated on. Mum was

When I was about 17 years old, went on holiday in France. Mum, dad and my sister Chloe were staying at a gite in Normandy, about 500m from a D-day landing beach. Chloe and dad were off exploring yet again, mum was getting lunch ready, and I was bored out of my mind. A dream family holiday on the landing beaches is great if you are into the history of World War 2, which I was not. I wandered through a couple of fields on a footpath which led to a small farm yard surrounded by apple trees with small bright

I had been working as one of the secretarial staff at the school for three years. I was a former pupil and had left the summer after the current headmistress, Miss Janet Fothergill, had taken over from Miss Brown. That had left plenty of time for me to feel the hand and slipper of the new headmistress on my bottom before I left. Having struggled to find a better job after leaving university, I was successful in getting a job at my old school as a secretary. It was strange going back, but oddly Miss Fothergill and I got on well, possibly because I

It was 1974, and I was 12 years old. It was considered to be the normal thing to be physically punished by our parents for wrongdoings. For me, it would usually be dad’s belt which was referred to as ‘The Strap’, and for my sisters it would be ‘The Brush’ which hung in the hallway, and would be administered by mum. It was a Sunday afternoon and I was playing out with friends when somebody suggested we cross the railway line and go onto a neighbouring estate. I was hesitant because my parents had always warned me not to go near

Three years ago when I was fifteen, a group of us in high school in Arkansas decided we’d attend a rally in the big city in support of action against global warming. We live in a rural area and our school uses a number of school buses to collect students from a wide area. That means we’re well used to early rising. On the day in question, a Wednesday, we met up real early. Some of the older students had their own cars and someone had managed to borrow a small bus, so we all had some means of travelling.

This incident took place at my lower school in 1961, when I was 9 years old. It was a cold February morning, and my class of 30 boys was waiting in a line outside the gym. We were supposed to wait in silence for all lessons, but when the PE master arrived he found me and three other boys talking. He opened the gym, told everyone to line up before they changed, and asked me to say what rule we had broken. I don’t know why he picked on me, but I was so nervous and surprised I just said,

Half a lifetime ago I did English and Drama at A-level in school. Each year, we put on two shows, one modern on Shakespeare. In the upper sixth, we had a new head of English, Miss West. Rather than the traditional school favourites of Romeo and Juliet or Hamlet, she decided on The Taming of the Shrew. Casting was done and I was cast as Petruchio whilst the school hottie, Rachel, was cast as Katherine. I’ll be honest at this point; I did not know why I was getting all sorts of winks, smiles and you lucky bast**d comments. I had read the original work. However,