I never, ever shared with any of my friends the details of my punishments at home, feeling deep shame about still getting my bottom smacked compared with the more ‘enlightened’ discipline most of them were subject to, such as being made to sit on the naughty step or having a toy confiscated.
That being the case, I felt utterly alone in the knowledge of the pain and embarrassment that awaited me at Mum’s hands. I suspect my friends thought I was being melodramatic as I threw away the lunch mum had packed for me, my mouth too dry to swallow the food. My stomach was in knots anyway, anticipating the smacking my bottom would soon be getting.