W ell, it started off alright, I suppose. Nice and sunny and in the school hols too. I set off to go into town mid morning, met up with a few pals and messed around visiting the record shops, clothes stores and so on. We made a nuisance of ourselves, of course, but nothing serious. As lunchtime approached my friends drifted off and I started to make my way home. My path took me past the chip shop and I just had to go in emerging with a delicious bag of nice thick cut chips liberally anointed with curry sauce and a can of pop. I wandered off happily munching my chips and washing them down with swigs from the can. I had finished my informal repast just as I turned into our street and, without giving it much thought, dropped the chip packet and empty can over the wall of Mrs. Brown’s immaculate garden. That was when my day started to go wrong!

“Young lady. A word if you please!”

I turned and was shocked to see Mrs. Brown and that wretched son of hers following me into the road. Well, what did I expect? I did not run, I stayed and let her catch up with me.

“Pick that up and come with me to see your mother!”

I didn’t argue. I had no excuse and I knew she was right. I would have to submit to the embarrassment of being reported to mother and, I feared, publicly scolded. I could have lived with that if it hadn’t been for that rotten boy who accompanied us up the road to my house. Mrs. Brown rang the bell.

Mrs. Brown gave my poor mother a hard time! Suggesting that she was irresponsible, careless and unable to control her own daughter. Mother controlled herself; she was, in cricketing parlance, caught on the back foot and had no choice but to accept her lecture but not, she decided, on the doorstep.

“I’m sorry about this” she said “You’d better come in.” and I miserably accepted that I was to receive a public scolding which I richly deserved! We trooped through to the sitting room where the debate continued. I sensed that mother was beginning to lose her patience!

“What are you going to do about her irresponsible behaviour. She ought to know better. She needs to be taught a lesson. What are you going to do?”

Mother did not reply but turned to me. “Polly, you will apologise to Mrs, brown this minute. Go on. Apologise and then come to me and I’ll smack your bottom!”

“Mother!” I shrieked! I was shocked beyond belief. A smacked bottom, surely not that. Now look, I can take a smacking as well as the next girl but I don’t like it! Well, you’re not supposed to like it, are you? It’s punishment. But if I know I’ve behaved badly then, well, I can not complain if she smacks my bottom. I just didn’t think this deserved the painful sanction and I hated the fact that she had told them what she was going to do. But I didn’t know the half of it! I didn’t know she planned to smack my bottom in front of these people. That I was not told till after I had sullenly apologised.

Mrs. Brown accepted my apology graciously enough expressing the hope that I would learn my lesson! Her wretched son leered at me and I could guess what was going through his mind.

I turned to mother.

“Take your knickers down!”

“Mother, no, please, no!”

Mother took her seat on a tall backed chair and repeated, calmly but firmly, “Take your knickers down!” 

I am not a stupid girl. I knew that there was no way out! Not only was my mother going to give me a good smacking, which, perhaps I deserved, but she was going to do it in public and on my bare bottom! Mother doesn’t usually make me take them down. She does, of course, smack me from time to time, I dare say I need it, but I’ve only had it on the bare bottom when I’ve really annoyed her. It’s not only that a bare bottom hurts more, which, of course, it does, it is the indignity, the humiliation of a bare bottom that makes the punishment so much more potent! And to have it in public!

Very much aware of those two pairs of eyes upon me I reached under my dress and pulled down my little frilly knickers!

“Come on”

Mother led me round to her right hand side and hoisted me off my feet! She dumped me down over her lap. My head and shoulders hung down to her left and I grasped the chair leg to keep myself in place. Mother lifted my skirt. My little bottom flinched at the feel of the cool air. My legs reached down towards the floor but did not touch it. Mother adjusted my knickers pulling them done to just above my knees. She lifted her right knee and lowered her left. My poor bare bottom was raised for all to see. I glowered at those two who stood watching my torment. Mrs. Brown looked smug, her son was positively drooling. My girlie bottom was probably the first he’d seen and he was about to see it getting smacked. I shut my eyes. Let’s get this over with,
Mother’s hand could address both cheeks of my trim little backside with each smack. She smacked me hard not, I think, for putting rubbish in Mrs. Brown’s garden, but for putting her in the situation in which that ignorant woman was totally in the right and I was totally in the wrong. Oh, how I paid for it! Twenty or twenty five smacks she must have given as I writhed and squirmed across her knee. My bottom throbbed and stung with each smack and was soon a mass of angry marks all over. I gritted my teeth and took my medicine. I did not cry, no, really, I didn’t give them that satisfaction, but I know I squealed and yelped and kicked and wriggled as my tender bottom received even more smacks.

Then it was it was over and I was sent to my room where I could cry in peace. And I did, copious tears of pain and shame and regret. Would I never learn?

There was no happy ending to this story. My ‘end’ was certainly not happy as I lay face down on my bed. I knew that I would have to face meeting those two again from time to time and dreaded his gloating, knowing grin.

Oh, yes, I did learn my lesson and always put my chip paper in the bin these days! OUCH!