(gap: 2s) In the heart of our little town stood Mother’s barber shop, a place as neat and proper as she herself. Mother was a tall, dignified lady, always dressed smartly, her hair in a tidy bun and her shoes shining. She was known by all as Mrs. Carter, the barber, and she was respected for her fairness and her firm hand. When she spoke, her voice was clear and calm, and everyone listened, for they knew she meant what she said.
The barber shop was a special place, filled with the gentle scent of soap and leather. Sunlight streamed through the window, making the dust sparkle in the air. There were sturdy leather chairs in a row, a polished wooden counter, and shelves lined with jars and tins, all in their proper places. Everything was orderly, just as Mother liked it.
But what I remember most was the leather razor strap that hung from each chair. It was long and brown, smooth from years of use, and it gleamed in the light. The strap was not only for sharpening razors, but also for keeping order. Every child in town knew that if they misbehaved, the strap would be used to teach them a lesson. The smell of the leather was strong and always reminded me to be good.
(short pause) On Saturdays, I would help Mother in the shop. I swept the floor, dusted the counter, and fetched towels. The shop was a place of quiet routines, and I loved to watch Mother work. She was never cross or hurried, but always calm and careful. The razor strap hung quietly, a reminder to all to behave.
Mothers from all around would bring their children to Mother’s shop, trusting her to look after them while they did their shopping. Sometimes the children were my friends, and sometimes they were strangers. Mother always asked the other mothers if she might use the strap if their child was naughty, and they always agreed, for they knew she was fair and just.
(pause) One day, something happened that I shall never forget. My friend Peter, a cheerful boy with untidy hair, was left in Mother’s care. I was in the back room with my colouring books when I heard Mother’s voice, firm and steady, telling Peter to sit still. But Peter was restless and began to fidget in the chair, making the leather squeak.
The shop became very quiet. I could hear the clock ticking and the sound of a lawnmower outside. Mother stood up straight and reached for the razor strap. Her face was calm, but I knew she was serious. She did not need to raise her voice, for everyone could see she meant what she said.
(short pause) Peter gripped the arms of the chair tightly, his knuckles turning white. Mother let the strap hang for a moment, then folded it in half with a sharp snap. The sound was loud and clear, and Peter’s eyes grew wide.
(pause) I watched from behind the door, hardly daring to breathe. Mother moved behind Peter and, with a steady hand, brought the strap down across the seat of his shorts. The first smack was sharp and loud. Peter gasped, but he did not cry out. Mother gave him five firm smacks, each one a little lesson, and each one just as strong as the last. The sound of the strap echoed in the shop, and Peter’s shoulders shook, but he was brave and did not make a fuss. Mother’s face was kind but determined, and when she finished, she hung the strap back in its place.
(short pause) I felt a mixture of fear and respect as I watched. The shop was very quiet, and Peter sat still, his face pale. Mother did not scold him, but simply returned to her work, as if nothing unusual had happened.
When Peter’s mother came to fetch him, Mother called me over. She told me gently that she had seen me peeping and that it was not polite to spy. There was no anger in her voice, only a lesson to be learned.
(pause) Then, because she was always fair, Mother told me to bend over the barber’s chair. I placed my hands on the cool leather and waited. Mother folded the strap just as she had before, and gave me five sharp smacks across the seat of my shorts. Each smack stung, and by the last one, my eyes were watering. Mother was calm and gentle, and when she finished, she hung the strap back and told me quietly that the matter was over.
(short pause) There were no harsh words, only the certainty that I had learned my lesson. I felt the sting of the strap, but I also felt Mother’s love and care. I knew she wanted me to grow up to be good and honest. That day, I learned that discipline, though it may hurt for a moment, is given with love and helps us to become better people. And so, the memory of Mother’s shop remains with me, a place of order, kindness, and lessons well learned.
