BEXHILL SCHOOL

Bad day

 

The day didn't start well. For some reason I was convinced it was Saturday, so when the alarm went off, I just banged it into silence, rolled over, and went back to sleep.

The next thing I knew, Mum was yelling blue murder: 'Why wasn't I on my way to school?' Oh crikey! I realised it was Friday, not the weekend. More shouting from Mum and the dreaded command to fetch her hairbrush and go to her room. Starting the day over Mum's lap is never as good as a sleep-in and leisurely breakfast. She doesn't spank hard, but boy! does she ever deliver a sting. And it goes on and on. Does her arm never tire? 

So, of course, I was late for school, and that meant a short, sharp, painful meeting with the Headmaster's tawse during the mid-morning break.

Mum wsn't around when I got home, so I changed out of the school uniform, inspected my bottom, and lay around reading magazines and listening to the stereo.

No, I didn't do the washing up.

Bad plan, especially as Mum was still in a vile mood. That got me another trip across her lap for my 'poor attitude and unhelpfulness', but this time she called in the heavy artillery in the form of that horrible paddle. After that, there was no way I was going to be able to sit down for supper, so I went and locked myself in my bedroom and felt sorry for myself.

Oh well, tomorrow's another day, and at least it's a weekend.