I was brought up in the 1960s, when smack bottoms – as they were called then, at least in Britain – were an acceptable and common form of punishment for naughty children.

In this, I was no exception. My own smackings were always administered by my mother and it was always the same procedure, whatever it was I had done naughty.

If she decided I needed it, Mum would tell me: “Go upstairs to your bedroom and get into your pyjamas ready for a smack bottom.” Any pleading or promises to be a good boy were a waste of time – you just had to do as you were told, as Mum’s word was law in our house.

After getting out of my day clothes and sitting miserably on the edge of my bed for a while, I would eventually hear those dreaded footsteps coming up the stairs. Mum would enter my bedroom and pull out the straight-back chair on which she placed my clean clothes for the morning.