Suddenly I felt woefully underdressed. The door creaked open slowly, revealing a dark room filled with Dreadful Things. I could feel the invisible presence of generations of naughty schoolboys and schoolgirls crying, and I could hear the appalling “swish-crack!” of a slender cane whacking a tender arse. I flicked on the light, fully expecting to see dozens of teary-eyed children staring at me woefully and rubbing their sore bums, but the room was deserted. The room was exactly as I remembered it. A large bookcase stretched across the wall in front of me. To my left was a small couch where guests or waiting students would sit, large stuffed chairs on either side.
A Trip to the Head6
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