The lads who had witnessed it confirmed the awesome severity of the birching, saying that it had made them think twice before doing anything that might qualify them for a similar dose. Of course, this is why the punishment was carried out in public - to impress the watching lads, as so deter them from committing serious breaches of discipline. Such conversations as these were to fill my thoughts subsequently. At the time, though, I could scarcely believe that such tough lads could be affected by a thrashing, however severe. They were all, as I was, well used to getting soundly beaten on the bare bottom; nobody liked it but it was just part of the life we led in those days of strict custodial regimes, and we accepted it. So, if their accounts were to be believed, a birching had to be something special. Although I suspected that the horror stories about the birch had been somewhat exaggerated for my benefit, all the lads seemed to have a genuine fear of it; so for all my rebellious nature, and belief that I could take a good hiding better than most, I was none to keen to check it out for myself, whether or not these tales were authentic.

For a while, I more or less toed the line and kept out of major trouble, the incident that led to disaster blew up unexpectedly and suddenly. Some of us had been on an outside working party, and on out return there was a rush for the washrooms so as to be first in the evening meal queue. A certain amount of pushing, shoving and general horseplay developed, in which I was involved - nothing untoward, it often happened. Well, on this occasion one of the stroppier officers was on duty and he piled into the fracas with some force. It just happened that I was one of the lads he grabbed, violently, swinging me round to face him; and on the spur of the moment, I punched him in the stomach, hard enough to double him up for a few moments. When he recovered, he placed me on report. The superintendent ordered solitary confinement for me, and two days later I appeared in court, charged with assaulting an officer. The outcome was inevitable and I was rapidly found guilty. My previous record was then placed before the magistrate to help him decide upon the sentence. After reading it, he told me that my file revealed a continuous story of misconduct and insubordination, culminating in the grave offence for which I had just been convicted. He went on. "It is high time you learnt respect for authority. As many previous warnings and punishments appear to have no effect on you, it's clear that you are only able to understand the sternest measures. You will receive eighteen strokes of the birch." As the magistrates words sank in, I felt a pang of fear. Dazed, I was taken from the court and then back to solitary confinement in the Borstal - a small room with a bunk bed, a small wooden table and little else.

The Superintendent had told me that my sentence had to wait confirmation from the Home Office, which would take two weeks or more; meantime I would remain in isolation from the other lads. With my dreadful record, I knew there was no point in my appealing against the sentence - my one and only slender hope of evading the birch was that the Home Office might not confirm it. I clutched at this straw during the lonely fortnight that followed. I certainly had plenty of time in which to reflect on my dire situation. Eventually, one morning an officer came to my room and took me to the superintendent's office. I stood to attention while he read out the contents of a letter he was holding; the sentence of birching had been duly confirmed and would be carried out the following day in the gymnasium at 8 o'clock in the evening, in the presence of the other inmates and the staff. So there was to be no escape for me. Back in my room, I lay on my bunk, my mind in a whirl. As all the things I'd heard about the birch and how it was used came flooding back to me. I grew more and more apprehensive about my impending punishment.

I kept recalling bits of information; the birch was made from many long twigs bound together. The twigs ended in a spray at the business end, wide enough to punish the entire area of the buttocks with each stroke. They were kept soaking in water for several days before use so as to make them very supple and thus maximise the sting they gave. Apparently, the fine ends of the birch caused an exceedingly sharp sting. I'd also heard that the officer administering the punishment was instructed to apply the birch with maximum force. if most or all of these gruesome details were accurate, there was no doubt whatever that a judicial birching was a grim business. I'd all ready had to endure weeks of awful suspense since being sentenced but it wasn't over yet - I still had nearly thirty-six hours in which to contemplate what was in store for my bare bottom. the waiting seemed endless I had no activities to distract my thoughts, not even a book to read - not that i could have concentrated on reading. My mind was filled with only one thing; that the following evening I had to bend over the end of a vaulting horse, bare bottom, to take eighteen full-strength strokes of the dreaded birch from a hefty Borstal officer, in public. Somehow it all seemed unreal, a bad dream. The day dragged on. At six o'clock the medical officer came to my room to examine me. He pronounced me fit to undergo the punishment; I didn't know whether to feel relieved or sorry. Supper came along a bit later on, then I resumed thinking about the next evening. All I could focus on was my appointment with the birch. How much would it hurt? Was it really as bad as people made out? And if it was, how well would I take it? I had always prided myself on being tough - but was I tough enough to take a birching in the same way as all the canings and strappings I'd had? Well, I'd soon know the answer to that! I felt so tense that sleep eluded me for hours, but eventually I managed to drop off. I was woken at six o'clock the next morning, taken to the washroom and then back to my solitary quarters where breakfast was brought at half past six, more than thirteen hours still to.....wait! If only they would come and do it to me here and now and get it over with...............