As one of the front runners I was often mentioned and the girls, in particular, seemed keen I should suffer,(if that’s the right word!) as revenge doubtless for all the teasing I had enjoyed at their expense.

Well as she never did put me over her knee, and soundly spank me I was forced to daydream.

One scenario was a spelling test in which she gave one whack with a slipper or springy little cane for each mistake.

A variation was a piano lesson in which each wrong note earned a similar penalty, who knows I could be another Mozart by now instead of someone who can barely play chopsticks!

These daydreams that stirred up such strange feelings were a source of great delight and the variations were endless.

I could be held over a desk or otk or over a vaulting horse although that one came a little later.

It could be in private or in front of the class.

I could even be held down by the six most virtuous girls as in Herman Hesses’ “Peter Camazund”, although I admit I hadn’t read that.

My underpants would provide some modesty or I could wear nothing but a nice tight pair of gym shorts and Miss Wiseman, a smile playing on her lips, chalks her thinnest cane in preparation for six crisp, unhurried, painful strokes.

This inner life will be with me until they put me in a box.

Miss Wiseman is now of course much younger than I and she has some rivals.

Some woman will by some look or gesture capture my imagination and I will transport her to that inner world and she will become the strict schoolteacher of my dreams.