It was 1962 and I was twelve years old when I got my first real slippering from my father. As a younger boy I’d had a couple of whacks on the backside with his leather sandal, and a fairly mild over the knee spanking when I was about nine or ten, but nothing that really hurt. I had never been caned at school either. Unfortunately I was a somewhat rebellious boy and had a penchant for shoplifting. Anyway, I was at a large shop in Newquay, Cornwall, a town we had moved to when I was nine. There was a

   It was 1965 and I was fifteen years old in fifth form at Newquay County Grammar School in Cornwall. In fifth form you had certain privileges like wearing a black blazer instead of the maroon one for junior boys, and you could leave the school gates at lunchtime and go into town as long as you were back for the afternoon lessons. We felt like we were treated more like adults, without orders being barked at us like junior boys had to put up with. It was a mixed school, and boys and girls were allowed to mix more

I was a skinny boy with reddish hair, and at fourteen my voice hadn’t even started breaking yet, so I was behind the eight ball when it came to fitting in at my local high school, Newquay County Grammar, a coeducational school. I was no good at football or cricket either, though I was quite good at athletics and cross country running. I had a couple of friends, but in reality I was a bit of a loner. Girls weren’t interested in a skinny red-headed boy who sounded like an eleven year old. Or that’s what one of the girls