This is my memory of a spanking I got in 1957, when I was just five years old. We were not a very well-off family and my parents had few ‘nice’ things of their own. My father’s most prized possession was his silver cigarette case.
On this fateful day, I saw the cigarette case sitting on the sitting room mantlepiece above our open coal fire. It was a beautiful, shiny thing and I was fascinated with it. I reached up to the mantlepiece to grab hold of it and take a closer look.
To my horror, I fumbled with my grip and the case fell out of my hands on to the tiled fireplace below. I gathered it up and saw to my horror that the hinge had broken.
By now aware that I was in serious trouble, I decided on a desperate course of action – to burn it in the fire to get rid of the evidence. Obviously, at that age, my scientific knowledge was somewhat lacking.
In any case, it didn’t really matter because no sooner was it in the fire than my granny, who lived with us, came into the room and saw what I had done. She fished the wreck of the case out of the burning coals and then turned to me with an angry look on her face. She shouted to my father, who came in to see what the matter was, and told him all about my naughtiness.
My father was a firm believer in corporal punishment – he wasted no words but swiftly took down my shorts and underpants, then placed me bare bottom over his knee.
As he gripped me tightly, he delivered a memorable and long spanking until my little bottom was the colour of ripe tomatoes. Of course I cried, as naughty boys do and should, and pleaded with him to stop, but he kept on smacking me until my bottom was hot and sore.
Finally he replaced my clothing and with my bum burning in my pants almost as hot as the living room fire, I was sent to bed for the rest of the day, with no supper either.