I have to say that as a tea timer, it is a flop. You get distracted while the tea is brewing and forget to look at it, and before you know it, they’ve all run out and you had no idea. If you were being whacked, however, you would never take your eyes off it, silently imploring the sands to fall faster. Please run out, now now now now now!

These were taken by my own fair hand with one of those cameras the size of a milk-duds box, where you advanced the film with your thumb. Sort of like this:

Except I didn’t get mine off the back of a Minute Maid can. Anyway, remember the pink bedroom in that story The Visit? Here it is, gray dollhouse to the right just off camera:

Here we have Mother Goose looking the formidable schoolmistress. Her pupils (front to back) are Daisy (who has seen better days, and actually looks like she needs a visit from mental health services), Heather (Holly Hobby doll), Annie, and Holly (Holly Hobby doll). I did not actually name any of them. I always like the Holly Hobbies because they dressed very Little House on the Prairie. Anyhow, Mother Goose had better keep her eye on Holly and Annie, if you ask me. If they could be played by real girls, I would cast… oh, how could I choose with candidates like Jessica, Emma Jane, Eliane, Haron, Caroline, Mija, just to name a few internationally renowned schoolgirls?? Vote in comments, kids.

Next up, the orphanage dolls. The photo is blurred to hide their real identities, ha ha, but here they are, all lined up for inspection:

Cute costumes, right? These orphan girls slept in bunk beds, sang “It’s a Hard Knock Life” and suffered constant, mean whacking from the orphanage master and matron, played by Mr. and Mrs. Sunshine, who, when they weren’t impersonating orphanage wardens, drove around with their cute little baby in a camper van spreading peace and love.

It was constant drama in the pink bedroom. How I found time for homework and play practice, I’ll never know.

Mom & Dad: if you’ve been lurking and now, after seeing these pix, have to acknowledge that this is indeed me – Ohai!!

- Never.

- What will you call me?

- It rather depends, doesn’t it?

- What if I’m wearing this?

- Then, young lady, you can go straight across my knee.

- And what about this?

- I’d have to call you Miss then, wouldn’t I?

- It would be wise. And this?

- Ooh, mean babysitter – Miss?

- I think that would be Sir.

- In that skirt?

- She watches Battlestar Gallactica.

- Geek, then.

- Not to her face, unless you want some of this.

- Ah! Sir. Sir! Yes, sir!

- Better. What about when I’m wearing this?

- Only Aunt Amelia would wear that, and it’s always best to agree with her. Now this quite interests me, especially with these underneath.

- What would you call me then?

- Put it on and we’ll see.

- Well?

- Oh…you, boy, are the most impertinent fourth former it has ever been my misfortune to know. You can touch your toes for the cane right now.

- Right now?

- Right now.

- Ah!

- Hold still…right, now get those off. I’m going to have to fuck you.

- Isn’t buggery wicked?

- Very wicked. But you can’t expect me to resist, with a bottom like that, and such straight marks.

- Not that you’re modest.

- Quiet, boy.

- Come here, you. Here.

- Mmm…

- Slower…Here…What will you call me now?

- Darling.

- Don’t go away again. Promise. Promise.

- Oh, sweetheart, as long as I live. As long as I live.

I bent over, resting my hands on my knees. Radley was a cricketer with a big reputation for cutting and driving; and three drives, right in the middle of the cane, convinced me what a first-class hitter he was. At the fourth, an especially resounding one, Penny whistled a soft and prolonged whistle of amazement, and murmured: “Well, that’s a boundary, anyway.” …

When my performance was over, the second victim, Edgar Doe, with the steel calm of a French aristocrat, which he affected under punishment, walked to the spot where I had been operated on. He bent over (again without being told to do so), and only spoiled his proud submission by telegraphing to Radley one uncontrolled look of pathetic appeal like the glance of a faithful dog. Radley, not noticing these unnerving actions, or possibly a little annoyed by them, administered justice severely enough for Doe, proud as he was, to wince slightly at every cut. Then he put his cane away, and issued, as before, his little ration of gentleness.

“You’re two plucky boys,” he said (28).

Later in the dormitory, Doe confides to an astonished Ray:

“Do you know, I really think I like Radley better than anyone else in the world. I simply loved being whacked by him.”

I pulled the clothes off my head that I might see the extraordinary creature that was talking to me. A dim light always burned near our beds, and by it was I able to see that Doe was very red and clearly wishing he had not made his last remark.

Ray’s line of thought carries on:

Doe’s remark, I reflected, was like that of a school-girl who adored her mistress. Perhaps Doe was a girl. After all, I had no certain knowledge that he wasn’t a girl with his hair cut short. I pictured him, then, with his hair, paler than straw, reaching down beneath his shoulders, and with his brown eyes and parted lips wearing a feminine appearance. As I produced this strange figure, I began to feel, somewhere in the region of my waist [ha! ed.] motions of calf-love for the girl Doe that I had created (29).

Extraordinary!

Radley is known as one who “never lets anyone off, especially his pets.” He’s wry. At one point Ray overheards Radley and the school doctor (Chappy) discussing Doe. Chappy admits of Doe:

“I’ve a great liking for him.”

“So have I.”

“Good. Now, what first attracted you – his good looks or his virtues?”

“Neither. His vices” (38).

I love 1) that it’s perfectly acceptable for these men to admit their attraction to these boys without the onerous film of pedophilia over everything; and 2) that he’s attracted to a boy by his vices.

Radley goes famously for the swift alternation of severity and gentleness. He canes without apology, as in the scene where he rapidly changes from confidant to disciplinarian, commanding Ray to follow him to his study after Ray has complained to him about his housemaster unfairly giving him a thousand lines.

There was little change in my countenance when he placed himself opposite me with his cane in his hand.

“You have been very rude to me in speaking defiantly of your house-master. Do you understand?”

There was no alternative but for me to say “Yes, sir.” The answer came huskily. I was annoyed that my voice sounded hoarse.

“Put out your hand.”

I obeyed, stretching out my right hand as far as I could and displaying no perturbation, though I was wondering what it would be like to be caned on the hand. This was one of Radley’s surprises, and he followed it with one of his brutal remarks:

“Put that right hand down. You’ll need it to be in good condition for writing your lines. Put up your left.”

I held out my left hand. The cane sang in the air and whistled on to my open palm. A spasm of pain passed up my arm, my hand closed convulsively, my elbow drooped, and that vast array of tears made a tremendous effort to carry everything before them. But with all the strength at my command I got the better of them. Angry at having closed my hand, I extended the scorching palm again, and, very pale and trembling perceptibly, looked with set features straight at Radley.

He threw the cane away and, sitting on the edge of his table, took hold of the hand that he had struck and drew me towards him.

“Don’t you think, Ray, that you, who can take a licking so pluckily, ought to face bad luck in a less cowardly fashion than you have this afternoon? You’ll meet worse things than lines before you’re ten years older; and, Ray, I want you always to face your fate, whatever it may be, as you faced my cane – teeth set, no wincing.”

It was a stroke of master play. His gentleness, following immediately upon his severity, burst the dam. His words were an “Open Sesame” to the leaky floodgates I had held so tightly closed (45-46).

I also loved the moment when he yanks Ray into his study by the wrist, intending to show him his strength. He’s unflinching. He boldly tells Ray that unless he takes the wrath of his peers and leads them away from their rottenness, that he’ll lose his (Radley’s) esteem.

“Which would you rather have, their contempt or mine?”

“Theirs, sir” (102).

Awesome!

The book itself is an odd sort of hybrid. The first half is all about school, the second about Ray and his companions at Gallipoli (where they perish). So all of this character building in part one stands within the context of the slaughter and waste of the Great War. – Never mind, though. Bring on Radley, I say. *sigh!*

quotes from Tell England: a study in a generation by Ernest Raymondm (re)published by Echo Library 2006. (originally published 1922?). Also on Google books.

wonderfully well-used

Suffice to say I lost interest in the story and started thinking about all kinds of things…

and for across-the-knee: