I can scarcely believe I am recounting this tale! Though it transpired some forty years ago, it remains etched in my memory as one of the more delightful periods of my youth.
My father, a man of gentle disposition, laboured long hours and doted upon us children whenever he could. This left my mother to assume the role of disciplinarian within our household.
I was the youngest of four siblings, with a brother and two sisters older than myself. My brother, eight years my senior, often took pleasure in tormenting me behind our parents’ backs, evading their reprimands.
We were visiting the farm of our parents’ friends, who had five children of their own. The two eldest daughters were in their late teens, while the two boys and a girl were around my brother’s age, making me the youngest and the most frequent target of their mischief.
Our visits to the farm were always marked by a grand picnic, and on this particular day, I was attired in a fancy, frilly lavender dress trimmed with white lace.
Upon our arrival, our parents admonished us to be on our best behaviour. However, as is often the case with children, unsupervised moments can lead to misadventures.
While the adults busied themselves with unpacking the picnic provisions, we children were instructed to stay away from the barn, a place of great fascination for me, an animal lover who could not have pets due to allergies.
Predictably, this warning set the stage for a rather unpleasant trick. As soon as the adults were occupied, my brother and the other children began to tease me for being too timid to enter the barn. Not wanting to be ridiculed, I joined them in exploring that marvellous place teeming with animals.
The barn, though malodorous, was a veritable paradise for me. However, the presence of ‘cow pies’ necessitated careful navigation. The barn’s interior was dimly lit, contrasting sharply with the bright day outside.
My brother, well aware of what lay ahead, led the way. My attention, however, was captivated by the majestic cows and horses. I had scarcely taken a few steps inside when I encountered something most peculiar.
To my horror, I realised I had stepped into a fresh ‘cow pie’ with my pristine white patent leather shoes. Losing my footing, I fell into the mess, much to the amusement of my brother and the farm children, who laughed uproariously.
It dawned on me that my brother had orchestrated this cruel prank. In tears, I ran to my mother for solace.
My mother, along with the farm’s matron and her two eldest daughters, was in the kitchen preparing the picnic feast. The odour of my predicament soon alerted them to my presence, causing quite a commotion.
Holding her nose, my mother inquired sternly about what had transpired. Through my sobs, I explained the situation. Her eyes blazed with anger as she realised the extent of the mess.
The women quickly found towels and soap to clean me up. My mother stripped me of my soiled dress right there in the kitchen, and I felt utterly humiliated.
As she washed me down with soapy water, I wept not only from shame but also from the anticipation of the punishment I knew was imminent. Once I was clean, my mother pulled a kitchen chair to the centre of the room and stood me before her.
I could not meet her gaze, feeling as though I had ruined the entire outing. “Debbie, look at me!” she commanded. I looked up, only to see the fury in her eyes, which brought fresh tears to my own.
“What did I tell you? You were not to enter the barn until after the picnic, when you could change out of your good clothes! What were you thinking?” All I could manage through my sobs was an apology and an explanation of my brother’s involvement.
“I shall deal with your brother later. For now, you are my primary concern. I am going to spank you for disobeying me, young lady! You are fortunate to have a spare change of clothing, or you would be eating your picnic lunch in the nude!”
With that, she pulled me across her lap and administered a series of firm smacks to my bottom. The pain was intense, and I cried out, struggling to endure the punishment.
Once the spanking was over, I was dressed in my old clothes and made to apologise to the ladies in the kitchen. I was then sent to stand in the corner, which, though uncomfortable, was preferable to sitting down.
My brother’s punishment was even more severe. By this time, the commotion had drawn the attention of the adults, and the kitchen was soon filled with curious onlookers.
The other children, having scattered at the sight of me running to the house, were eventually found and brought to the kitchen. Since it was my brother’s idea, the other children were sent to their rooms until lunch.
My brother, however, was to face a harsher penalty. My mother, furious, delivered a stern lecture that reduced him to tears.
The farm’s matron, experienced in dealing with naughty children, offered my mother a paddle for the occasion. It was a formidable instrument, well-worn from years of use.
From my corner, I watched as my brother’s face turned red with shame and then white with fear. He was ordered to drop his trousers and underwear, but his pleas for mercy delayed the inevitable.
“Richard, now!” my mother commanded. “Please, Mum, don’t! I’m too old for a spanking! I’ll be good, I promise!” His protests were in vain.
My mother, resolute, administered a thorough spanking with the paddle. The sound of the smacks echoed through the kitchen, and my brother’s cries were as loud as mine had been. It was a harsh yet caring lesson, meant to instil a sense of discipline and morality.
