It was 1968 and although the so-called swinging sixties were in full swing, this was not the case in suburban Bournemouth. As a retired headmaster from a local mixed grammar school life progressed at an enjoyable if sedate pace. I lived in a semi-detached house on the outskirts of town, life in general was very good if routine.
Tragedy struck my neighbours; they were a middle-class family with one daughter Sally--I guessed she was in her early twenties. Her parents were both killed in a car accident. Sally took the shock very hard, but she did cope and inherited the house, and I supposed some considerable wealth. I tried to be a good neighbour helping with various jobs around the house and garden. Sally also inherited her parents Golden Retriever Saxon. I have always liked dogs and was happy to take Saxon for walks whilst Sally went to work. She was working at a local insurance company in some sort of junior office management role. Additionally, she was doing a correspondence course to improve herself. Over time I became very attached to Sally in a fatherly way and Saxon started to spend most of his days with me. Sally would come round after work, and we could exchange a few pleasantries before she took Saxon back for the evening.
This pattern continued for several months until one Thursday evening when Sally came to collect Saxon she was obviously upset and not her usual happy self.
"What is wrong? Can I help? A problem shared is a problem halved, as they say."
"Oh, I did a terrible thing at work today and I feel really bad about it."
Over the next few minutes, Sally described how she had been in a really bad mood all day, and when one of the junior typists had made a mistake, she had overreacted and made a bad situation much worse. The result was lots of tears and she had upset her usually happy team. She had taken out her mood on a junior member of staff and she now felt bad about the situation.
When Sally had told her tale she was close to tears herself. I suggested a few remedies that ought to make the situation better and Sally did seem to cheer up. Just as she was leaving, I said. "Of course, if you were at my school you would have been sent to me for punishment."
"What would you have done?"
"I always took bullying seriously, so it would probably have been the cane."
She looked at her feet. "Do you think I should be caned?"
"Well that is up to you, but a good caning will help you to feel less guilty, wipe the slate clean as it were."
"Yes, I can see that, would you cane me?"
I made a show of thinking about my answer, in truth, I could think of nothing I would rather do. "Yes, you could round at seven tomorrow evening. You do not need to sit down very much on a Saturday so your no-doubt tender bottom can recover over the weekend.
"OK, I will see you then. Thank you."
She got up to leave and just as she got to the door I announced. "Of course, canings for serious offences are carried out on the bare bottom."
Sally looked at me in alarm and blushed beautifully. "Yes, I thought they might be, that will give me something to think about tonight."
With that, she left with Saxon in her wake.
Friday dragged, but I still took Saxon for his usual walks. He had no idea what was going to happen to his owner's bottom that evening, I spent all day in anxious anticipation. As seven o'clock approached I went upstairs to dig out my old school cane which I had kept as a souvenir. I never really expected it to be used in anger again. But I was delighted to hold it in my hand again.
At seven I heard a knock at the door. I let Sally into the front room she looked a picture wearing a sensible blouse and full skirt, so unlike the miniskirts many of the girls wore. She also looked very nervous.
"Did you manage to smooth everything over at work?"
"Yes, I followed your advice, thank you for your help."
