I grew up in the SE of England in the 60's. I attended a new school that was built to serve the new town where we lived. Until I was 8 my mum, dad, younger brother and I were happy, the summers seemed hotter and the winters had snow.
My dad died and that left mum and David, and me alone. Mum had her parents look after us for long periods of time. I learned later that she had gone to hospital but at the time I did not know why.
When she came out she was often angry with David and me and we were punished more than before dad died. Mum would slipper me at bed times until I cried but she left David alone for some reason. I suppose it was bacause I was the oldest, or the naughtiest. When I got slippered mum took me to her room, told me to lie on her bed, then took off my pyjama bottoms and whacked my small bottom with her slipper. It always hurt but after a while and when I was crying she stopped and took me back to me room and kissed me goodnight. If she found us talking after lights out it was always me and not David who took the trip to her room.
At school I was always good and I was quite bright and sporty so I was popular with the teachers. Too popular with Mr Jones, my home teacher, who I thought was ancient although he was probably only 40.
It was soon afterwards that Mr Jones started to call round at our house for tea and then for supper. Eventally he stayed until after David and I were sent to bed. Sometimes when my mum would come and fetch me out of bed for a slippering after he had come to visit I never knew if Mr Jones was in the house listening or if he had gone home. It was sort of weird.
Some time later Mr Jones and my mum got married. It felt weird having a teacher at my school as a dad. I had moved into another class by now but was always aware of my new dad looking at me as I went about the school and especially when I saw him talking to another teacher and glancing at me. You know the sort of thing I mean, dear reader.
One evening dad had a talk with mum and then they called me into the living room. They said that they had something very serious to talk to me about. Dad did the talking. There was a chance I could pass the test to the best school in the town if I was prepared to work hard, and that meant extra homework and no slacking. I had to put in the work and dad would help, he said with a grin!
If I had known then what sort of help he would be administering I would have declined the offer, that was not an option for a well-behaved 10 year old who was accustomed to receiving painful applications of the hard plastic-backed slipper on his bare bottom.
to be....