I was first caned when I was 11 at a prep school in Hertfordshire in the 1950s. It was only the headmaster who could cane, and he did it frequently. It was unlikely that you could pass through the school without a caning at some point. So far, I had managed to avoid it, only receiving a slippering from Matron on one occasion. I was never caned at home. There had been a rumpus in the dormitory, and Matron had caught three of us fighting. “Report to the headmaster’s study at break tomorrow, in your gym shorts.” That meant only
