My mum was a firm believer in smacking, as we called it back then, and from an early age a sore bottom was the consequence whenever I seriously misbehaved.
Mum always called the punishment a ‘smack-bottom’, even when I was in double figures, which made me feel incredibly childish and humiliated. Her ‘weapon of choice’ was the wooden spoon. It was kept, naturally enough, in the kitchen, as it she also used it for baking and cooking as well as to heat up my young behind.