The line moved forward and I was now second, the boy at the front of the queue had gone into the office, the boy who had emerged was making his way slowly up the corridor. When I had joined the line I had been fifth and then others had joined behind me. I looked down at the blue chit that I held, my name was there, Taylor, P, then the fact that I had been unable to account for my absence from school the previous day was stated and finally my form master's name was printed, M. Stevens. It was lunchtime, I had been given the chit at morning registration at 9.00am and had plenty of time to contemplate my fate.
Two days ago, taking a day off school to go and see a rugby match during the afternoon had seemed like a good idea, I really wanted to see the match and there was no other way to do it. My parents would certainly not have written me a note to cover my absence as they took school attendance very seriously. I was 16, had been at the school since the age of 11 and new the rules well enough. The cane was the most frequent form of punishment and for particularly serious offences a blue chit was issued and the boy concerned had to report to Mr Wood's office. Mr Wood was a man in his late thirties who was Head of History, he was also in charge of discipline and carried out canings for the Headmaster. I had been to his office on previous occasions and knew what to expect.
In front of me in the queue was Tim Adams, he had been with me at the rugby game and he had a similar chit from his form master. The queue fell silent as there was a SWISHH followed by a CRAAKK as the cane landed on the bottom of the boy in the room. I could visualise the scene but stopped short, from where Tim was standing he could see it and when his turn came and I moved forward, I would be able to see what was happening. We were of similar build, both almost six feet tall and both fairly fit. Tim was blond whereas I had brown hair. We were good friends and it wasn't the first time we had stood in this corridor together as a consequence of our behaviour. The noise of the cane stopped. Eight strokes had been delivered which was the norm. A boy of fourteen emerged from the office and started off up the corridor. Tim looked at me, shrugged and moved forward, knocked on the door and entered.
I moved forward. I could see Tim hand his chit to Mr Wood who took it. He started speaking to Tim but I couldn't hear exactly what was being said though I could imagine he was being told that he was irresponsible and ought to know better. Time was standing still, it was my turn next, my hands were sweating, I had butterflies in my stomach and my vision was slightly blurred. I saw Mr Wood pick up the cane and move around to the large green armchair, Tim moved too and I saw him start to unfasten his trousers and then drop them and his underpants to his knees. He bent forward, his head disappearing from view leaving only his bare bottom and legs on view. I never knew whether this was a deliberate arrangement in Mr Wood's office but anyone passing by could see a boy being caned and any caning in that office was always given on the bare bottom. At other times, passing by would have made me curious about who was in the office, now I knew and also knew that I was next. Mr Wood took up position and raised the cane, bringing it down with full force across the centre of Tim's bottom, the sound of the CRAAKK resonated in the corridor and again everyone fell silent. From my vantage point I could see a red stripe rising on Tim's bottom. Mr Wood raised the cane again, there was another CRAAKK and a second stripe appeared. Six more times Mr Wood brought the cane down before standing back. Tim stood slowly upright and pulled up his trousers and underpants. Mr Wood was back at his desk, recording the event in the punishment book that was permanently open there. He looked up, I heard him say, 'You may go Adams.' Tim nodded and made his way to the door.
My heart started pounding, I was next, Tim moved through the door, his eyes full of tears, he smiled weakly at me and started off up the corridor. It was my turn. My legs moved me forward and my hand moved out, I knocked on the door and entered the room. Mr Wood was still behind his desk. I crossed over and he looked up. 'Ah, Taylor,' he said, 'what is it this time?' I handed him the blue chit, staying silent. He read it. 'Another case of truancy,' he said. 'When will you learn that such behaviour is irresponsible. You take a day off school for your own ends without realising that you may be missing an important part of your education or giving a thought to the fact that teachers have prepared lessons or that your parents believe that you are at school and therefore safe. You are now one of the senior boys in this school and it is time that you started to behave like one, instead you behave like a very junior and very irresponsible boy.' His use of 'boy' was said in a particularly patronising way, like all sixteen year olds, I preferred to think of myself as a man and I didn't like the way that I was being put down. I looked down at the floor, aware that at this point appearing insolent could easily result in more than the standard eight strokes.
Mr Wood picked up one of the canes off his desk, it was the usual three feet long, almost half an inch thick made of golden yellow rattan with a crook at one end. He flexed it and spoke. 'Move over to the chair and get into position.' I turned round and made my way to the chair, I had been there lots of times before. It was a green leather armchair. The leather on the back and the arms was worn by generations of boys bending over it and grasping the arms with their sweaty hands. My heart was still pounding and my hands felt dripping wet. Mr Wood moved behind me as I stood at the chair. I started unfastening my trousers, my hands fumbling with my belt. I pushed them down to my knees and then dropped my underpants so they rested on my trousers and bent forward, gripping the arms of the chair. I felt the cane tap the inside of my legs, 'Open your legs wider and relax your bottom,' ordered Mr Wood. I shuffled them apart until I could open them no further and relaxed the muscles in my quivering bottom, I felt the cane being drawn across it as Mr Wood judged his position. 'I'm going to give you eight,' he stated. I felt slightly relieved as sometimes he gave twelve, I tried to take deep breaths and stared down at the seat of the chair in front of me, suddenly aware that the boy who was next in the line outside could now see me in position.
I was aware of Mr Wood raising the cane, there was a SWISHH followed by a CRAAKK. I felt a line of fire explode across my bottom, I gripped the arms of the chair harder and tried to take a deep breath, there was another SWISHH and a CRAAKK and a second blazing line ignited below the first, soon joined by a third and fourth. The pain was terrific. I tensed the muscles in my bottom trying to find some relief. 'Relax your bottom,' ordered Mr Wood. Slowly I relaxed the muscles and was aware that he had raised the cane again and this time brought it down into the crease. My eyes filled with tears and I gasped for breath. The sixth stoke landed and I gasped for breath again. I knew what would happen next, the last two strokes would be delivered as a cross over the first six, causing each one to blaze again. Sure enough the seventh landed from top right to bottom left and the last from top left to bottom right. My bottom was blazing with heat and pain. Mr Wood stood back. 'You may get up,' he said and moved back towards his desk.
I stood slowly, aware of moving the muscles in my bottom as I moved from bending. Slowly I eased my underpants and trousers over the blazing weals that felt more like deep ridges. Even without touching them, I could feel the heat on my hands. I fastened my trousers slowly, trying to stop the tears from actually running down my face. I turned to face Mr Wood who looked up from completing the punishment book. 'You may go Taylor,' he said. I moved slowly, aware of more pain as the muscles in my bottom took on the strain of moving and made my way to the door. I passed through it and smiled weakly at the next boy in the line, a sixth former called Marshall. I started off up the corridor slowly, aware before I got to the end of it of a SWISHH and CRAAKK as the cane landed on Marshall's bare bottom.
The pain blazed on through the afternoon and sitting was difficult, I watched Tim Adams move restlessly in his chair and no doubt did the same myself. By home time the worst of the sting had worn off and on getting home I carefully checked my set of stripes in the bedroom mirror, there were six perfect parallels with a cross over the top of them. They would be an interesting site when changing for sports the next day. Altogether worth it for having been to the rugby match!