KEY POINTS:
Naturally I remember where I was, and what I was doing when the Grim Reaper first paid me a visit.
I was in a fourth-form English class doing the previous week's geography essay, when I heard the eerie sound of the Reaper's two-stroke moped approaching in the distance. The Reaper always used a moped or scooter in those days as it was the only way he could get around to everyone with his dickie hip.
At our school the Grim Reaper took the earthly form of Baz Borthwick, a 75-year-old, World War II veteran whose main responsibility was to deliver the "list" to the relevant classrooms.
Unlike Oscar Schindler's list, this was a list you didn't want to be on, as it dictated who was to be summoned to the senior master or the caning master at the end of the day.
Christ's College, an all boys school in Christchurch, was the last to get rid of caning, and it has to be said that if I had a dollar for every stroke of the cane I received I would be writing this column on the Sony J56 laptop, not the Sony J50.
Two strokes was the minimum you could receive, six was the maximum, and the rotan-like qualities of six strokes meant that you could only be subjected to 12 strokes in total over a two-day period, but it would be very rare indeed for anyone to come close to these kinds of numbers.
In my final year I had the dubious record of accumulating 16 in three days, and thanks to its abolition the next year, that record remains to this day. But it's your first time that you remember the most.
Baz Borthwick calmly entered the classroom and handed a seemingly harmless piece of paper to the teacher. It was the list, and for the first time my name was on it.
Later that day, those on the list nervously assembled outside the senior master's office. There were five of us in all, with good friend Ben Nichol the only person present that I ever had anything to do with. The rest were relatively unfamiliar, a couple were even bordering on being computer geeks, and this is saying something as it was a couple of years before the school even got any computers. In fact if it wasn't for the presence of Ben and myself, the others could have easily presumed that they had been randomly selected to attend an Outward Bound course.
Moments later the door flew open and "Piggy" Hamilton, a Muldoonesque tyrant of a man both in demeanour and physical appearance, ordered us into his chamber. His mouth was foaming like his GP had prescribed him those salts that plumbers use to unblock sinks, and his general body language, combined with the fact that he was already holding a cane, well and truly scuttled any remaining hopes that we might be bettering ourselves on an Outward Bound course any time soon.
It soon became clear that the crime in question was of a historic nature.
He ranted about our apparent behaviour two months earlier when a relief teacher had been assigned to take our music class. This relief teacher was fresh out of teacher's college and had about as much control of the situation as referee Wayne Barnes and Speaker of the House Margaret Wilson's love child. (If they were to have one.) Amazingly, and occasionally amusingly, Piggy was able to give us precise details of exactly what occurred. Who said what, who threw what, and who swapped the Vienna Boys' Choir album for the Ace of Spades.
The most disconcerting thing was the fact that it became increasingly obvious that he was directing most of his tirade at me, and this was reinforced when the prosecution's opening remarks concluded with: "Right Hart I am going to give you SIX, the rest of you wait outside!"
My first time and I am getting six! Thirty to forty seconds later, followed by a sub-20 second 200m sprint and it's all over.
I am not even going to attempt to explain the pain one experiences when they get six strokes of the cane, it would be utterly pointless. It would be like a mother attempting to explain the pain of labour during a difficult birth to somebody who is yet to experience it.
Personally however, I feel that six strokes of the cane is probably slightly more painful than the average childbirth, especially if the woman has had an epidural. Epidurals, along with books down your pants, or any detectable padding were always strictly forbidden when getting caned. Recent tests have concluded that it is physically impossible for a 15-year-old boy to bend over and touch his toes after he has had an epidural, so it's never been considered a serious option for pain relief.
Next week I continue with this very personal history. I will amaze you with some incredible stats, compare differing techniques, and give you a first-hand account of one of the world's largest mass canings. This event involved 22 boys who were caned in reverse alphabetical order, a fact that didn't really affect me because "Hart" was still in the middle.