(gap: 2s) Once upon a Sunday, in the bustling heart of Seaford’s council estate, two boys named Johnny and I found ourselves at the centre of a most instructive adventure. The day began as so many did, with the sun peeking through the mist and the sound of children’s laughter echoing across the patchy grass. But, dear reader, this was to be no ordinary Sunday.
(short pause) Johnny and I, being of a curious and rather mischievous nature, had been expressly forbidden by Auntie to venture “down the hill” to Jersey Street, a place where the grown-ups said trouble sometimes lurked. Auntie’s house, with its faded floral curtains and the comforting aroma of tea, sat safely above the bustle, and she had warned us most sternly to keep away from the shops and the busy roads below.
(pause) Yet, as all children know, the forbidden is ever so tempting. With a conspiratorial glance, Johnny and I slipped away, our plimsolls barely making a sound on the worn linoleum as we crept out. Down the hill we went, hearts thumping, to the sweet shop for ice cream and Brighton rock, feeling ever so grown-up and daring.
(short pause) But fate, as it often does in the tales of childhood, intervened. Johnny’s elder brother Joseph, driving his father’s Morris Minor, spotted us just as we were licking the last of our ice creams. “Hop in, boys,” he called, and we, knowing the climb back up would be a trial, gladly accepted.
(pause) We tiptoed into Auntie’s house, hoping to slip by unnoticed. But Auntie, with the keen eyes of all good mothers, was waiting. “Where have you two been?” she asked, her voice as sharp as the snap of a starched bedsheet. Before we could muster a fib, Joseph, not knowing our secret, blurted out the truth.
(short pause) Auntie’s face clouded with disappointment. “Upstairs, both of you,” she commanded, her tone brooking no argument. “I shall be up presently to deal with you.” Up the narrow staircase we trudged, our hearts heavy with dread, and sat side by side on Johnny’s bed, the eiderdowns rumpled beneath us.
(pause) Presently, Joseph poked his head in, his eyes full of sympathy. “Mother will be up soon, lads. Best prepare yourselves.” We nodded, knowing well what was to come, for in those days, a sound spanking was the usual remedy for disobedience.
(short pause) Auntie entered, her expression grave. “Lie down, both of you, across the foot of the bed,” she instructed. This was a new position for me, and I watched Johnny, who propped himself up on his elbows, his shoulders arched. We lay side by side, our bottoms presented, as was the custom for such occasions.
(pause) Auntie stood beside us, slipper in hand, and for a moment the room was silent but for the ticking of the mantel clock. “You boys know why you are here,” she said. “Disobedience must be corrected, for your own good.” With that, she began, delivering a firm smack to Johnny, then to me, alternating with a steady rhythm.
(short pause) The slipper, though not as fearsome as the wooden spoon, stung mightily. Each smack was sharp and brisk, and the sensation was like a jolt of electricity. I tried to be brave, counting the roses on the wallpaper, but the lesson was thorough and memorable.
(pause) Auntie’s method was fair and even-handed, never cruel, but determined to impress upon us the seriousness of our misdeed. The spanking continued until our bottoms were quite sore, and our eyes prickled with tears. Yet, there was no anger in Auntie’s actions—only a firm resolve to teach us right from wrong.
(short pause) At last, Auntie ceased. “Let that be a lesson to you both,” she said, her voice softer now. “I love you dearly, but I must see you grow into good, honest boys.” She left us to compose ourselves, and we lay quietly, the sting in our backsides a reminder of the day’s adventure.
(pause) When we finally ventured downstairs, we offered our apologies, heads bowed. Auntie’s sternness melted into a gentle smile, and she allowed us to sit on the padded sofa for supper, knowing well that our lesson had been learned.
(short pause) In the days that followed, Johnny and I remembered the spanking whenever we passed the top of the hill. We understood, as all children must, that rules are made for our safety, and that those who love us sometimes must be strict.
(pause) And so, dear reader, the moral of our Sunday lesson is this: Obedience and honesty are the cornerstones of a happy childhood. Though the path of mischief may seem sweet, it often leads to sore consequences. But with every lesson learned, we grow a little wiser, and the love of family shines all the brighter.
(long pause) And that, as Auntie would say, is the way of things in a good and proper home.
