To Beamish, the fascinating (but astoundingly expensive) open-air museum which recreates life in a mining community of a hundred or so years ago. Inevitably, three girls proved a handful for their two gentlemen, as the recreated buildings sparked our collective kinky imaginations.

I dragged Martha into the back room of the draper’s shop, scolding her for her poor work behind the counter before making her bend over the storekeeper’s desk. Haron, entranced by the shop assistants’ delightful uniforms (and, perhaps, by the delightful shop assistants themselves) had to be dissuaded from applying for a job on the spot.

We boarded the tram towards the colliery village, checking with the conductor: “Is that the right stop for the school?” I nearly choked as he confirmed that it was, informing us of the (supposed) school motto:

“A thrashing a day makes the class obey”

He expanding on his theme. “See, thrash a pupil at random in the morning, and they all behave perfectly for the rest of the day.”

On arrival, the girls (well trained, see, or maybe simply scared by the conductor’s warnings of dire consequences) scurried straight to their desks, taking out their blackboards and chalk and starting work on the sums displayed at the front of the room. I spied a spare teacher’s desk, and climbed into position, summoning Martha for a lecture. We flicked straight into role. I was most disappointed in her misconduct, I explained. Lecture, excuses, lecture, excuses – the usual refrain.

“You must realise, young lady, that I take a dim view of this sort of behaviour.”

“Yes, sir. I’m sorry, sir.” (She can be very demure whilst being scolded).

“What will happen to you if there’s any repetition?”

“You’ll give me the cane, sir.” (Oh, how she’d hate that).

“Indeed. Hard. Now go back to your desk and continue your work.”

It was only then that we noticed that a group of visitors had sneaked into the front row of the classroom, and was listening, entranced. I am so glad to have added to their enjoyment of their visit.

Later, one of the girls showed me that an extremely rude phrase had been written at the foot of Martha’s sums. She denied all knowledge; I summoned the other two. All three lined up in front of my desk; all three pleaded innocence; all three would be caned, I decreed, if the culprit failed to own up. (It occurs to me that none of them has, yet: I fear they may be sitting somewhat uncomfortably for their Sunday lunches later).

Rapunzel did subsequently have to be dealt with in the playground for quite serious misbehaviour; I do hope no-one was looking our way as I lifted her skirt and whacked her, but I’m told that a hard hand-spanking in the open air on a cold day is most effective.

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