'Fetch the cane and book!'

At my secondary modern school in the 1960s there was a ritual attached to corporal punishment which has remained etched into my memory. The cane was not used that often and I think that the intention of the procedure was to add a sort of gravitas to this ultimate sanction.

A boy usually received a number of warnings before a caning was ordered. Although individual teachers were authorised to give corporal punishment, canes were not kept in the classroom. Any sort of unofficial CP, for example with a ruler or gym shoe, was strictly forbidden. The cane, authorised by the local education authority to be applied to a boy's 'clothed seat' , was the only permitted implement.

If a boy had overstepped the mark once too often he would hear the dreaded words: 'You will go to the headmaster's office and ask for the cane and punishment book.' This really was like a death sentence and a gloom fell over the class as the boy in question trooped along to the head's office to request the instruments of his doom. Very occasionally, the said instruments were in use in another classroom and the lad would have to await their return, prolonging the torture.

I witnessed this ritual on a number of occasions before I became an unwilling participant myself. After all this time I can't even recall what my offence involved although I can remember that it was during a woodwork lesson. These took place in a small brick building on the far side of the school grounds some distance from the main buildings.

It was a long walk to the headmaster's office, giving me plenty of time to contemplate my fate. Mr O'Brien, the woodwork teacher, had the deserved reputation of being a 'hard caner' and I knew that it was going to hurt a lot. In fact, although I had been slippered a couple of times at my junior school, I had never before been caned and I was not looking forward to the experience.

To my relief the headmaster was not in the vicinity of the office: I did not fancy explaining myself to that stern man. I asked the school secretary, Mrs Denyer, for the cane and the punishment book and she gave me a sympathetic smile as she handed the items to me, saying that she hoped I had not been too naughty. I felt rather embarrassed as I carried the long yellow cane and the black covered book along the dusty corridor. On the way I encountered my Geography teacher, Mr Jenks, who gave me a knowing wink which made me blush.

Back I went, on the long walk across the school grounds to the woodwork shop. I knocked at the door and then walked through the double row of workbenches to Mr O'Brien's desk, laying the cane and punishment book in front of him. He opened the book at the current page and entered my name and form in a neat script, followed by my offence and the number of strokes awarded. In this instance, it was three strokes.

'Face the class and bend over.' I turned to look at my classmates, standing at the benches in their work aprons. 'Take a firm grip of your ankles and don't jump about, or it will be the worse for you.' Through the gap between by legs I could see Mr O'Brien taking a step or two backwards before lifting the cane high in the air. I heard a swishing sound, followed by a sharp crack as the cane made contact with my buttocks. A fraction of a second later I felt a sharp sting which quickly increased in intensity so that I wanted to cry out in anguish.

All too aware that all my classmates were watching me intently I supressed my groans and steeled myself for the next stroke. As I have said, Mr O'Brien was a proficient caner and the next one felt even harder, alnost knocking me off balance. 'Just one to go,' I reassured myself, wondering how anyone could get through the 'six of the best' featured in many of the school stories I had read.

Stroke number three was the worst of the lot, reigniting the blaze from the frst two strokes and setting off a whole forest fire of its own. If someone had told me that my trouser seat was billowing with smoke and flames I would have believed them.

The punishment over, I was commanded to take the cane and punishment book back from whence they had come. I trekked off across the grounds yet again, very conscious of the smarting in my backside. The caning had been as painful as I had expected, if not more so, and I resolved to keep on the good side of Mr O'Brien in future.