My mum must have threatened to 'disown' us hundreds of times and we were smacked throughout the 70s - as were most children. By the 80s, I think she realised that docking my pocket money was more effective than a slap on the behind or back of the legs. In
those days society expected parents to discipline their children. It was the 'norm' and a totally different era to the one we're in now. The difference with abusive parents was the amount of force used and the pleasure they derived from hurting their children. That teacher who humiliated me in front of the class? She got a kick out of that. She was loving every moment of my misery. The girl who hit me on my first day of secondary? Made her feel great judging by the look on her face! That was
not my mother. There was no malicious intention, ever. She wasn't perfect, for sure, but she couldn't have loved us anymore than she did and she sacrificed a lot for us. I actually think she did a great job with us three kids - one who wasn't supposed to live to see double figures (he's still here), one who was closet gay (and more of a girl than I ever was) and the other an undiagnosed autistic with an attitude problem because she was unable to verbally express
what was happening to her. My mum's been gone ten years now, and there's not a day that goes by when I don't think of her and miss her. Dad too, and he died when I was 26. He only ever smacked me when I had like been
epically shite, and the look on his face afterwards said it all because it clearly upset him, and that hurt me more than the smack ever could. I've encountered a lot of crappy people in my life but I had great parents, and I
always felt loved - even when she was chucking my Clash LP out the bedroom window!
Anyone who wasn't so lucky has my heartfelt sympathy.
Crime of the century it aint, but I have a job to do and it's not acceptable for an 11 year old boy to go around using the C bomb, F bomb, or any other bomb. Not on my watch!