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.