My mother had been a keen equestrian.
However, when I was barely in my formative years she was thrown from her horse.
This, unfortunately, left her in a wheelchair, paralyzed from the waist down.
On reflection, I feel at this time I was lucky enough to have my father still around.
If I had done something to warrant discipline it would now normally be a case of being sent to my bedroom, with the classic words
‘Wait till your father gets home’.
On the occasions that this happened, my father would come to my bedroom, put me over his knee, and smack me over the seats of my trousers.
In all honestly, for a father, he was fairly gentle with me, thus the discipline he met out did not really do me much good.
One day, I was out playing in the garden.