As I mentioned in my previous story, I am one of four siblings – my brother John is two years older than me, my sister Katie two years younger and Adele five years younger [all names changed – Ed].
Previously I wrote about my earliest memory of being smacked, and what I thought at the time was my final hiding. I now aim to fill in some of the gaps between those two landmarks with more stories.
Let’s start with the earliest recollection I have of Katie getting her bum smacked (such punishments were never referred to as spankings in our home). It would have been 1988 or thereabouts so Katie would be five.
I’m not sure what she had done this particular day to land her in trouble but it must have been serious because Dad smacked her. About 90% of corporal punishment administered in our home was dished out by Mum .
Some people might feel we children got off lightly by mostly having Mum do it, but I tend to disagree. Our father only smacked us when prompted by mother, the traditional ‘wait til your father gets home’ scenario.
But most hidings were given on the spot by Mother and boy, could she thrash! I preferred a hiding from my father any day of the week. I can probably count on one hand the number of hidings he gave me but as I got older the threat of one from him got a lot more serious and mother would have ensured he carried it out.
While Mother smacked hard and fast and long from the start – usually her slipper or the dreaded hairbrush – Father spanked with his hands. He had very big hands so they were very effective at punishing children’s bottoms. However, he would generally only ever give about six or so smacks out at once.
I often wish Father had smacked me more often, if only for the reason that when I upset him, he would often give me the silent treatment for several days rather than smack me, and I would be walking around on eggshells. I hated knowing I had disappointed him.
Back to Katie – it would have been in the early evening, maybe 5pm-ish, as we were still up and usually went to bed about seven. Katie was wearing her nightie and, as I say, had got into trouble about something. I remember Mother telling my dad to ‘sort her out’ – a ‘sort out’ usually meant a good hiding. Father was sitting on a chair in the kitchen (maybe the rocking chair I mentioned before) and pulled Katie across his knee.
The rest of us children were also present in the kitchen, all fairly young – I would have been seven, going on eight. Father pulled up Katie’s nightie to expose her bare bottom. Suddenly he said ‘oh, bloody hell!’ Katie was wearing yellow knickers and I don’t think my father was expecting that, though he could have just been trying to lighten the mood. It was a shock for him because we children were not allowed to wear pants underneath our nightwear, as Mother was concerned they would cut off circulation while we slept.
Of course, all the rest of us kids began to laugh at this revelation, but Katie’s bottom was nevertheless soon bared and Father proceeded to give her four or five firm smacks on her young behind, followed by the stern instruction: “Now, behave yourself!” Although the smacking was not overly hard, obviously it had the desired effect on a five-year-old’s bottom and Katie had a little cry after she had been done.