Pointing to a pile of old plimsolls on the floor near the corner, he told me: “Take your pick.” I chose the longest plimsoll I could find. It was the type that had an elasticated top rather than laces.
So I had my slipper and, according to the rules, I could use it to administer up to six hard stinging whacks to that girl’s bottom. But there was one problem. I had to have a good reason for doing so, and lust was not deemed a good reason.
As the day went by and I started to get my head together, two things finally became apparent to me. Firstly, I couldn’t just seek out that girl and slipper her for no reason, or even for some frivolous reason. She was not a girl who was in any of the forms I taught, so to slipper her I would have to catch her doing something between lessons.