I Was Caned By My Dad
Hard to believe now, but its true. This was 1959 and it was a different universe. I was 17, and allowed to borrow my dad's car (stupid dad). Myself and my best friend were going to meet two girls at a Teacher Training College a few miles away. My friend had just got his licence as well, and I let him drive the last mile or so. The college had an impressive drive way. He swung the car in to impress the girls and hit one of the stone gateposts, crumpling the off-side mudguard and headlight expensively.
My choice was to tell dad the truth or lie that a dog had run in front of me and to avoid it I hit an expensive gatepost. No choice really. I lied.
I expected a caning and that's what I got the same evening when I limped the car home. If anything, the dog excuse increased the penalty.
(My father was a Secondary Modern Headmaster, highly experienced in caning boys bottoms, and brought all his skill to bear on my bare bottom. His displeasure was penetrating.)
A few weeks later he took me to his study at home and asked me to tell him honestly how the car had been damaged. I repeated my dog story.
Big Mistake.
Somehow through his educational contacts, the true story had got back to him.
There was very little discussion, apart from the classic parental "I am very disappointed that a son of mine etc..." He took the cane from the cupboard, and despite the fact that I must have been getting near 18, it never occurred to me for a moment to argue with him and I obediently dropped my trousers and underpants, bent over the desk and took a double caning for lying to him twice. That was my last, and very definitely worst caning.
My choice was to tell dad the truth or lie that a dog had run in front of me and to avoid it I hit an expensive gatepost. No choice really. I lied.
I expected a caning and that's what I got the same evening when I limped the car home. If anything, the dog excuse increased the penalty.
(My father was a Secondary Modern Headmaster, highly experienced in caning boys bottoms, and brought all his skill to bear on my bare bottom. His displeasure was penetrating.)
A few weeks later he took me to his study at home and asked me to tell him honestly how the car had been damaged. I repeated my dog story.
Big Mistake.
Somehow through his educational contacts, the true story had got back to him.
There was very little discussion, apart from the classic parental "I am very disappointed that a son of mine etc..." He took the cane from the cupboard, and despite the fact that I must have been getting near 18, it never occurred to me for a moment to argue with him and I obediently dropped my trousers and underpants, bent over the desk and took a double caning for lying to him twice. That was my last, and very definitely worst caning.
