pond.
‘Your parents have paid for you to eat it.’
To which I calmly replied, ‘therefore I am responsible to my parents and not to you.’ The whole table was instantly enveloped in a deathly hush as the Master mentally reviewed his options.
‘You will eat it!’ came the increasingly agitated response.
‘No, Sir, I cannot.’
Just at that moment, a large tureen of rice pudding arrived in front of him, ready for him to serve it down the lines of nervous-looking boys. ‘If you do not eat it, you will not have dessert,’ he announced.
My response was quick, sharp and justified. ‘My parents have paid for me to eat the dessert.’ With the words now out of my mouth, I resigned myself to the fact that I was about to die.
‘Don’t you dare talk to me like that! Eat your dinner this instant! If you don’t you will have no rice pudding!’ he screamed.
‘In that case,’ I retorted, moving incredibly slowly, ‘neither will anyone else.’ With that, I stood up, grabbed hold of the edge of the bowl and tipped it into his lap.
The Master screamed. The rice pudding was hot. So was mybackside when I immediately received six of the best cane strokes he had probably ever delivered in his entire career. It stung severely and made my eyes water, but I didn’t care. For a while, I was a hero amongst my mates.
* * *
I spent most of my time at school minding my own business and getting on with my work, but there was another occasion when I felt I was being treated unfairly. It happened when a tall prefect walked down the morning assembly line and falsely accused me.
‘You were talking, Daniels. Six of the best in the break!’
‘But, Sir, I wasn’t …’ I spluttered.
‘Shut up! Six of the best,’ he threatened angrily.
Having already experienced ‘six of the best’ for a ‘crime’, there was no way that I was going to bend over a chair and allow this big kid to strike me on my bottom for being innocent. I had honestly not talked in the line and felt it quite reasonable not to go to his room at the break. So I didn’t. At lunchtime the prefect came looking for me and, by the look on his face, was obviously not a happy bunny.
‘Straight after school, you will come to the Prefects’ room, Daniels!’
‘But, Sir, I wasn’t…’
‘Be quiet and do as I say, Daniels!’
The same scenario was repeated without giving me an opportunity to speak and, instead of visiting his room after school, I went straight home. Upon arriving back at school the next morning, a very hot, red-faced prefect pulled me out of the line and shouted for me to go straight to his room. I was aware of 100 eyes following me as I walked down the corridor to the sound of my own footsteps. Instead of turning left intohis room, I turned right, made a short cut through the cloisters, picked up my satchel from the form room locker and strolled straight out of the gates. I boarded the next bus home and arrived while Mam was in the middle of the washing.
Extremely hesitant to tell Mam at first, she eventually persuaded me to give her the full details and I held back the tears as I made my way through the story.
‘Do you mean to tell me that other boys are allowed to smack you?’ was her first comment. I had assumed that this was normal and acceptable.
‘Yes, Mam.’
Despite being 4ft 10in when her socks are wet, my red-haired matriarch could have an extremely fiery temper. ‘What?!’ she shouted. With eyes widening, she immediately ran to get her coat with my appeals to calm down completely drowned by angry mutterings. We travelled the six miles back on the bus together, with steam coming out of Mam’s ears. Every inch of the way I tried in earnest to dissuade her from taking up the gauntlet, but it was pretty obvious that nothing would stop her now. My pleas fell on deaf ears.
Once through the school gates, she dragged me in her wake as she burst into the school via the door that was out of bounds to me. Storming straight
‘Your parents have paid for you to eat it.’
To which I calmly replied, ‘therefore I am responsible to my parents and not to you.’ The whole table was instantly enveloped in a deathly hush as the Master mentally reviewed his options.
‘You will eat it!’ came the increasingly agitated response.
‘No, Sir, I cannot.’
Just at that moment, a large tureen of rice pudding arrived in front of him, ready for him to serve it down the lines of nervous-looking boys. ‘If you do not eat it, you will not have dessert,’ he announced.
My response was quick, sharp and justified. ‘My parents have paid for me to eat the dessert.’ With the words now out of my mouth, I resigned myself to the fact that I was about to die.
‘Don’t you dare talk to me like that! Eat your dinner this instant! If you don’t you will have no rice pudding!’ he screamed.
‘In that case,’ I retorted, moving incredibly slowly, ‘neither will anyone else.’ With that, I stood up, grabbed hold of the edge of the bowl and tipped it into his lap.
The Master screamed. The rice pudding was hot. So was mybackside when I immediately received six of the best cane strokes he had probably ever delivered in his entire career. It stung severely and made my eyes water, but I didn’t care. For a while, I was a hero amongst my mates.
* * *
I spent most of my time at school minding my own business and getting on with my work, but there was another occasion when I felt I was being treated unfairly. It happened when a tall prefect walked down the morning assembly line and falsely accused me.
‘You were talking, Daniels. Six of the best in the break!’
‘But, Sir, I wasn’t …’ I spluttered.
‘Shut up! Six of the best,’ he threatened angrily.
Having already experienced ‘six of the best’ for a ‘crime’, there was no way that I was going to bend over a chair and allow this big kid to strike me on my bottom for being innocent. I had honestly not talked in the line and felt it quite reasonable not to go to his room at the break. So I didn’t. At lunchtime the prefect came looking for me and, by the look on his face, was obviously not a happy bunny.
‘Straight after school, you will come to the Prefects’ room, Daniels!’
‘But, Sir, I wasn’t…’
‘Be quiet and do as I say, Daniels!’
The same scenario was repeated without giving me an opportunity to speak and, instead of visiting his room after school, I went straight home. Upon arriving back at school the next morning, a very hot, red-faced prefect pulled me out of the line and shouted for me to go straight to his room. I was aware of 100 eyes following me as I walked down the corridor to the sound of my own footsteps. Instead of turning left intohis room, I turned right, made a short cut through the cloisters, picked up my satchel from the form room locker and strolled straight out of the gates. I boarded the next bus home and arrived while Mam was in the middle of the washing.
Extremely hesitant to tell Mam at first, she eventually persuaded me to give her the full details and I held back the tears as I made my way through the story.
‘Do you mean to tell me that other boys are allowed to smack you?’ was her first comment. I had assumed that this was normal and acceptable.
‘Yes, Mam.’
Despite being 4ft 10in when her socks are wet, my red-haired matriarch could have an extremely fiery temper. ‘What?!’ she shouted. With eyes widening, she immediately ran to get her coat with my appeals to calm down completely drowned by angry mutterings. We travelled the six miles back on the bus together, with steam coming out of Mam’s ears. Every inch of the way I tried in earnest to dissuade her from taking up the gauntlet, but it was pretty obvious that nothing would stop her now. My pleas fell on deaf ears.
Once through the school gates, she dragged me in her wake as she burst into the school via the door that was out of bounds to me. Storming straight
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