Little as I was, she didn’t spare me, and by the time my smacking was done, I had a very stinging bottom.
My only other memory of it is being sat on Mum’s lap afterward (still bare and itchy from that skirt, though the buzzing leftover from the smacking was still worse) and being cuddled for a while until I stopped crying, after which I was taken in for an afternoon nap.
In retrospect, and by today’s standards, the punishment seems very harsh.
But as it was explained to me when I got older, at that time food rationing was still strictly enforced.
The family garden was mostly given over to producing food and I think Mum believed that if I wasn’t immediately disciplined, there was a chance I would subsequently pull up vegetables or pick fruit which was much-needed to feed a hungry family.