Within a few moments, the headmaster appeared at the door and came into the classroom whereupon I got to my feet and stood next to the desk where I had been sitting. I had two choices; four strokes of the cane or two weeks suspension. I got my brain into gear and considered as quickly as I could. It wasn’t quick enough, though, and he pressed me for my answer. I told him I would take the four strokes. He wagged a finger at me, beckoning me out from behind the desk.

As I passed the front desk, I automatically turned towards the door on my way back to the headmaster’s study. He called me back and, as I turned, produced a short thin looking cane from the right sleeve of his grey suit jacket. I presume it must have been about the same length as his arm because I hadn’t noticed it when he came into the room, and I guess he had his hand cupping the crook handle so it didn’t fall out.

I was invited to bend over the front desk and I realised that we weren’t going back to his study. I was going to get it here and now. I bent over and clutched onto the sides of the desk, then felt someone folding back the tail of my blazer. I glanced to the side and saw that it was Mrs Bowflower.

The headmaster told me to keep very still, then I felt the cane being tapped gently against the seat of my grey trousers. It was all happening so quickly I found it difficult to focus but still knew enough to worry when I no longer felt the cane tapping me.

With a brief whoosh the cane cracked across my bottom and believe me it really, really hurt! In what seemed just a second or two, I heard that whoosh again and the second stroke cracked across my bottom. The third and then the fourth strokes followed in rapid succession and needless to say I had never before experienced such a stinging, smarting pain.

The pace of the proceedings continued though and I vaguely heard the headmaster telling me to get up and get back to my lessons whenever I felt ready. By the time I eased myself up from the desk, the headmaster had left the room and I was alone with Mrs Bowflower. I queried the bit about getting back to lessons and she told me bluntly that a smacked bottom didn’t warrant an afternoon off.

In fact I didn’t go back to my lessons. I went to our common room instead and found the three boys who had been caned ahead of me. They didn’t query why I had only received four strokes and they had got six, nor did they show one jot of resentment. I bet arch feminist Helen would have had something to say, had she known.

After that, it was a hectic year with final exams and everything, and it all passed so very quickly.