An Observer columnist reminisces:

“Many of those who taught me at school had returned to teaching after the war. They had the habit of command, a love of classics and a handy supply of canes in the cupboard.”

But how did the canes get there? I picture an entire procurement department in the Ministry of Education. There’d be the forecasters, making careful calculations of the number of rods required for the whole country, based on estimates of the number of punishments in the coming school year, and the durability of the typical cane.

The most senior buyers would take a more strategic view: calling in samples of new products. Having them tested. Checking the results.

The supply chain experts would co-ordinate the whole process: working with rattan growers, appointing master craftsmen to manufacture the canes, arranging for shipment to each school just in time for the new academic year.

Did the masters in each school then select their own canes, from a large stock in the staff common room? Did the eve of the new term see them taking practice swishes with the new stock, seeking out the ones that offered the perfect weight, balance and length? Did the more senior staff get first choice?

Perhaps the teachers called into the Headmaster’s secretary for supplies? (“I’ll take an extra senior cane, please, Miss Crowther. I think this year’s sixth-form will be an especially tricky bunch.”) Or was one of the prefects responsible for distributing fresh stocks to each cupboard, and replenishing supplies at regular intervals?

Maybe the staff procured their own? Picture the late summer call into their gentlemen’s outfitter: “A new mortar board and gown for the coming academic year, Dr. Jenkins? But of course. And anything from the rattan department while you’re here? Did last year’s selection perform as you woud have hoped?”