The belt from Mrs Bentley

When I was in year three of primary school (i.e. eight years old) in 1960s Manchester, I had a particularly bad day in class. Throughout the morning, I played up my class teacher, Mrs Moore, who had to talk to me sternly several times.

I used to sit next to my friend Graham, but this day I also spent much of the lesson chatting to him when I quite clearly shouldn’t have been. Eventually, Mrs Moore had had enough.

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