My mom rarely spanked me and my big sister (three years older) but nevertheless we did get our share...
After reading about school punishments in some recent postings it is time for me to come out of the...
Reading other stories here at Maman has encouraged me to write about the only memory I have of a...
My parents were strict – especially my mother. When I misbehaved she would frequently beat me on the bare...
I was educated at a Catholic school during the 1960s, and got spanked many times during this period. One...
(gap: 2s) On the edge of Surrey, beneath a sky that always seemed to threaten rain, our council estate...
At home that afternoon, I faced the music. Mum sat me down and explained my sentence. “I’ve spoken to...
(gap: 2s) The council school of the 1960s squatted at the heart of the estate like a brooding toad,...
In the shadowy corners of Surrey, where the clouds hung low and the houses stood in neat, grey rows,...
Once upon a time, in the gentle hush of a Devon dawn, there nestled a village so peaceful that...
Once upon a time, nestled in the rolling green hills of Devon, there was a quiet English village where...
My mother was a lady of simple and proper appearance, but to me, she was the very centre of...
When I was a little boy, not much taller than the garden gate, I lived in the sleepy village...
In the Canada of the late 1960s, nestled among the maple-lined streets and the gentle hum of Chevrolets, there...
(gap: 2s) Growing up on the Bransholme council estate in Hull in the early 1970s was like living in...
(gap: 2s) I was born in 1956 in Staffordshire, the third of four children. Our home was always alive...
In the gentle, rolling hills above Carnlough, where the sea’s breath mingled with the scent of wild gorse and...
My earliest recollections are not of the bustling Canadian suburb you see here, but of a far humbler cottage...
(gap: 2s) For the first eight years of my life, it was just my mother and me, tucked away...
(gap: 2s) In the early 1970s, in the Suffolk village of Bramfield—a place that seemed to have missed the...
(gap: 2s) Once, in the gentle heart of Kent, nestled among rolling hop fields and winding lanes, there was...
Growing up on the poor side of Missouri in the mid-1960s, getting spanked was as much a part of...
This is the story of a wonderful party my parents threw one Christmas 20 years ago. I would have...
(gap: 2s) In the poorer quarters of Missouri, where the houses leaned like tired old men and the porches...
I thought I would write in and relate my childhood memories as regards to spanking. I don’t remember being...
(gap: 2s) In the heart of a bustling Surrey council estate, where the rows of pebble-dashed semis and red-brick...
(gap: 2s) Once upon a time, in the heart of Grimsby’s bustling fishing town, where the scent of salt...
gap: 2s) In the heart of a bustling northern town, where the chimneys puffed their smoky breath into the...
In the early 1960s, on the poorer side of Surrey, life on the council estate was a tapestry of...
(gap: 2s) When I was a boy growing up on the estate in Hartlepool, my father would depart for...
(gap: 2s) In the soot-stained heart of Grimethorpe, where the pit winding gear loomed like a watchful giant and...
The air in Miss Bigwither’s office was so thick with tension it felt almost solid, pressing in on my...
(gap: 2s) Saturdays on our estate always had a certain rhythm—a lazy, lived-in feeling that settled over the rows...
(gap: 2s) Back in my formative years in the mid 1960s, the world seemed both vast and terribly small,...
(gap: 2s) My name is Peter. I entered the world in 1953, and the earliest chapters of my life...
(gap: 2s) In the golden days of the late 1950s, a Sunday at the seaside was a rare and...
(gap: 2s) The afternoon sun slanted through the tall windows of Jack Jorgensen’s house, painting golden rectangles on the...
(gap: 2s) Growing up on a Surrey council estate in the 1960s, life was simple but tough. The flats...
I am now sixty years of age, and yet the recollections I am about to share remain as vivid...
Why is it, I sometimes wonder, that so few people speak of the true grit and grind of family...