A really sore bottom

When I was nine and still in primary school in England during the 1950s, one winter Friday we had a massive fall of snow during the morning’s lessons. Not unnaturally, by the time it came for break time, us kids were staring out of the windows excitedly, anticipating a glorious snowball fight when the bell went.

However, not long before it was due to ring the headmistress, Mrs Allen, came into our classroom (I later found out she had been round the entire school). She clapped her hands to get our attention, then said: “Children, I know you are all probably excited about the snow but I want to make one thing very clear – throwing snowballs in school is strictly forbidden. Any pupil found doing so will be sent to me for the cane. Do I make myself clear?”

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