I Was Told To Cut A Switch

My step-father mostly used cane or slipper, or hand when we were younger - and believe me that could be just as bad as either. But he also favoured the switch, and the ritual of us being sent to the garden in our underwear to select and cut the switch to be used on us. He was systematic about it. After all, any old twig or stem won't do, either because they could break, or else because they were dangerously knobbly or pointed and could do serious damage. He bought a shrub for the purpose and planted it in the garden. I don't know it's name but I think it was in the eucalyptus family. It grew vigorous long springy stems with few leaves, no knots and no sharp edges. They were woody, about as thick as a cane, but far more springy and therefore achieved far greater coverage when used.

The ritual was more of a punishment, because it took longer than a 'there-and-then' chastisement. For a start being sent out into the garden wearing only my vest and pants while he waited inside, was shaming, as it was meant to be, and it happened way into my late teens, though of course less often than at its peak in my early/mid teens. There was the risk that if I tried to get away with cutting one that I thought would hurt less, I would be sent out to 'try again' with the knowledge that I would get an extra stroke, maybe two for 'trying it on', and it has to be said that the superficial evidence was more vivid and lasted longer.