I grew up in the 1950s in a small village in central England. Our household consisted of myself, my grandmother, my mother and my sister Marsha, who was nine years older than me. Our father died when l was only about 18 months old, so l never really knew him.
At that time, it was normal that children who misbehaved could expect to be spanked – and not only by parents, but by other close family members. I still vividly remember the day that mother gave Marsha permission to spank my bare bottom over her knee if l was naughty, just as both of us had been up to then by grandma and herself.