My bedtime was as soon as I had finished supper. There was a final visit to the bathroom and a check by Sister that I had cleaned my teeth, and I was straight off to bed. The other three would normally follow an hour after supper. Once in bed, I was soon asleep; often the older boys would wake me up when they came to bed, which in a way showed it was a pointless exercise sending me to bed early.

At first there was the fear of wetting my bed during the night. I wondered what Sister would say in the morning and what the punishment would be. With my mother it had been my school plimsoll at the age of seven, and the threat of the cane now I had reached eight. I wondered if Sister would use the slipper or the cane.

To prevent any chance of an accident, I found it best to wake myself up late in the evening and pay a visit to the lavatory. With no watch to tell the time, I had no way of knowing if it was ten at night or after midnight, my only thought was that I had better pay a visit as this was the only way I knew of preventing it occurring in my sleep. At around five or six in the morning, I would also pay another visit. I had found out from the others that Sister prefered us to try and stay in bed during the night, unless we were really desperate to visit the lavatory.  For my first six months in the Home, this routine worked and there were only a few accidents at night. In the morning there was never a telling off or the slipper if any of us had wet the bed, which I found strange.

Shortly before Christmas and my ninth birthday, Sister seemed to object to my evening visits to the lavatory.  When she found me on my return from the lavatory, there was a minor telling off about my forgetfulness for not visiting the lavatory before going to bed. I did protest but was never believed. When I was caught before getting to the lavatory, I could not convince her that I had been at the correct time and now needed to go again. I was sent straight back to bed without being allowed to visit the lavatory, with comment that I would have to learn to go at the correct time.
I was more upset with Sister telling me off over various matters, than if I was taken to my room and given the slipper by her. I never meant to do wrong things, it was just that I found a telling off so upsetting.

  If I had argued with Sister over her sending me back to bed without visiting the lavatory, it would have been the slipper. Trying to get to sleep with the knowledge that I needed to go for a pee was impossible. I lay awake trying to work out what I had done wrong, and eventually wet the bed when I could not hold on any longer.

Once I reached the age of nine, bedwetting now regularly happened about once a week. I tried to plan my visits to the lavatory after I knew Sister had gone to bed so as to avoid meeting her, but often I did not wake up in time.  On going to bed each night, I had been worried that I might wet the bed. When I did wake up early in the morning with a wet bed, I actually felt happier as now there was no worry anymore, I could get back to sleep until it was time to get up. On the nights I did not have an accident, if I was caught by Sister visiting the lavatory shortly before getting-up time, I was always allowed on my way; to her this was a good idea that would prevent a wet bed. The two different reactions from her was something I could not understand. The others told me that Sister wanted us to stay in bed during the night, as she thought we might wander into the girls bedrooms and cause annoyance. When the flat had just been boys, there had not been this problem, now we were a mixed group, she wanted to make sure we were apart when she could not watch over us. If we did have the odd accident at night it did not matter, and it seemed as if it was better than us been up and about when it was dark. Stripping my bed and going off for a bath was the most embarrassing matter; the older three boys did not tease me. As they were at different schools, I had no worry that they would ever tell my school friends about my bedwetting, and they knew I would not tell my friends about their odd wet beds. They were glad that if Sister were focusing her attention on me, it would get them off any minor items of trouble they might be in. Once I had finished my bath and put my sheets into soak, I needed to get a damp cloth and wipe down the rubber mattress protector on the bed. With these tasks I was a little late and any chores I should be doing would still have to be completed before school. To save time I had to fold up my blankets and counterpane and put them on the end. When I arrived home from school later in the day, I would be able to use my own free time to make the bed up with clean sheets, this was often after tea when there might be something I wanted to watch on the TV. A reminder of an accident was that the bed remained in its stripped condition for the entire day. If friends had been allowed into our flat, it would have been embarrassing. In other flats, the Sister could use this as an extra form of punishment. The only time I felt ashamed was when an aunt & uncle came to pick me up to take me back to London for the weekend, they had brought my two cousins with them. I was encouraged by Sister to give them all a tour of the flat and show them my bedroom, picking the day that my bed was in its stripped condition with the rubber sheet in full view. Whilst their girl who was my age was more interested in the view from the window across the grass, her younger brother who was six, looked on with glee and announced that I still had a rubber sheet on my bed.

Stripping my bed and going off for a bath was the most embarrassing matter; the older three boys did not really tease me. As they were at different schools, I had no worry that they would ever tell my school friends about my bedwetting. They were glad that if Sister were focusing her attention on me, it would get them off any minor items of trouble they might be in.

Once I had finished my bath and put my sheets into soak, I needed to get a damp cloth and wipe down the reddish brown mattress protector on the bed. With these tasks I was a little late and any chores I should be doing would still have to be completed before school. To save time I had to fold up my blankets and counterpane and put them on the side chair. When I arrived home from school later in the day, I would be able to use my own free time to make the bed up with clean sheets. A reminder of an accident was that the bed remained in its stripped condition for the entire day. If friends had been allowed into our flat, it would have been embarrassing. In other flats, the Sister could use this as an extra form of punishment.

The morning wash was another moment that as the fourth and youngest boy I did not fit in. Two sinks meant that two could wash at once, the third could visit the lavatory. and they would then swap over. Eventually when all three had washed, dried and cleaned their teeth I would get a chance to use the sinks. This was the other reason for my visits to the lavatory first thing in the morning before they were awake, as I was not going to be allowed to use the lavatory until all three of them had made use of it; I knew that on many mornings there would have been a desperate need. Whilst Sister did not punish me over wet beds, standing in soaking pyjamas in the middle of a puddle on the floor would have brought some form of punishment.

As they returned to get dressed and make their beds I was left alone. This slight delay meant that from this point until breakfast, I was delayed in every task and chore I had been set. Before breakfast Sister would check to see if everything was to her high standards. If the bed was not made to her requirements, everything would be thrown onto the floor and you would be made to make the bed to her standard while she watched over you. Sister also would make an inspection of the bathroom, to see that flannels were correctly hung up, the toothpaste had its lid on, the soap was in the correct position, and that there was no scum line around the sink. This gave me a chance of getting into trouble; as I was the last to leave the sinks, any scum line was down to me, even if it was in the sink I had not used. After my wash, extra time was spent cleaning the second sink so as not to get into trouble.

The other little problem that affects boys is their aim at the lavatory bowl. I have to admit that I was not accurate on every occasion, but now as I was apparently the last to visit the lavatory, I was responsible for every mess. My excuse that I had not used it after them, failed to get me pardoned. All the others said it was like it when they used it; Sister often having witnessed my earlier visit, now believed them. Having been blamed for this after several occasions, I realised that the older boys were doing it just to get me in trouble; on all my future visits to the lavatory, I remained in seated mode. I left the lavatory with the seat down and with no wet patches on the floor to coincide with Sister passing. Eventually I appeared to be given the benefit of the doubt over future spills. There was a comment from the Sister that I should learn to pee in the bowl like a boy rather than in a girl’s fashion. It was impossible to win.

  Breakfast was never really a battle for me. I accepted that it was long, drawn out and noisy. I soon became used to the cooked breakfast on the days that Sister provided one: tomatoes on toast, bacon and other items. On certain days, it was either porridge or hot milk over an oat type cereal. At the end of breakfast if not on washing and wiping up duty, you were free for a few moments once your set cleaning chores were over, to amuse yourself before finally getting ready for school.

On several occasions, it was down to having to finish the mug of tea rather than the large breakfast, although possibly with a lighter breakfast I might not have felt so unwell, had me visiting the lavatory to be sick. With all the morning rush and the need to get seven children off to school, little attention was paid to a small boy disappearing for a few moments. I was quite capable of being sick and getting over it without drawing attention to myself. Possibly if I had allowed attention to be focused on me, something might have been done over having to drink tea. Staying silent meant that having been sick, I would be starving until school lunch several hours later. I was more afraid of Sister finding out that I had been sick after eating one of her breakfasts, than the actual event.

   Once all our chores were finished, we could put the final touches to our appearance. My hair was that of the average schoolboy; other than for the five seconds after a comb and brush had been put through it would look anything other than perfect. While the girls could sit down and take time to brush their hair, boys it seemed had to achieve perfection in moments. To Sister, I was a new challenge; it was perhaps some years since she had to wrestle a comb on a boy. The other three boys and the boy who had recently left before my arrival all had close curly-cropped black hair; with my ordinary mop of hair I was a challenge for her. With a little time, my hair could look neat. My mother never had allowed me to have long hair, however she did allow the top of my head to be well covered, often choosing Italian barbers, who liked to take longer than normal, if the parent simply did not want an economy short back and sides to prolong the time between visits. Sister however did not seem to wish to give the slight extra amount of time that my hair really needed.

Within a short time of my arrival, I was despatched to the carpenter’s shop at the Home, where it appeared a few boys were still dealt with for haircuts. I was given the option of sitting still for him or having a pudding basin put on my head. I sat still; the result however very much resembled a pudding-basin cut, possibly achieved after many years’ experience. As well as the front, back and sides losing hair, the top of my head also was cropped quite severely. This was possibly one of the major differences my mother noticed on her first visit to see me.

CHAPEL

The Home having a religious theme on a Sunday was something I now had to become used to. Other than going with the school to a Harvest Festival service or a Christmas service, actually going to church was not something I had ever done.
There was a good chance that Sister had been informed of this when I had first arrived. There was also a good bet that my mother would have explained to Sister that I might cause a nuisance over such a matter, and I would find a quiet service difficult to sit through.

Before my first visit to the Chapel for Sunday service, Sister took me to one side and had a quiet chat. I was told that on Sundays the service could last an hour to an hour and a half. She knew of a few boys in other flats who found it difficult to sit through such a long service without becoming bored or finding the need to visit the lavatory. Once we were seated in the chapel, she did not like us to disrupt the service by making a request to leave. I was told quite firmly this would not be allowed; she would also not expect me to cause any fuss if I needed the lavatory. It was for this reason that some younger members in other flats were provided with waterproof pants to wear under their trousers on Sundays. There were also the odd few boys of around my own age in various flats who wore them as well, just in case there was ever an accident during the service.

As she was unsure of my behaviour for such a period, it was suggested that for my first visit to the chapel, it might be best if I also made use of a pair. Once the service was over, if I had proved that I did not need them, I would not be required to wear them again for chapel unless I thought it was necessary. At the end of the service if there had not been any problems, I should take them off and tuck them at the bottom of my drawer. At the age of eight, I thought I would not have a problem, but as this was a request from Sister, I would not make a fuss. If it had been from my mother, I would have refused, as not since the age of five when I had been on a long coach journey was it thought that I might have needed them. Sister did not embarrass me in front of the other three boys; I was given a pair, and told to go into the lavatory to change.

I was not too sure that I could last through a long service. Sister was trying to make sure I did not have any problems; it was possible to see that this was not a punishment, but something that was done to help me. What Sister did not explain at this moment was what I should do if I did have an accident. During the service, there was this thought in my mind the entire time.

The service in chapel went without incident. On returning to the flat, there was the hope I might find a moment to change out of them. As I was a younger one, I was due to go to Sunday school when lunch was over. I needed to remain in my best clothes, whilst the older three boys changed into play clothes. I did not get the chance to change out of the waterproof pants until teatime.

Over the next few services, I did put them on for each visit, just to make sure I could last out the service; after the first month, I left them in the drawer. There were a few services in the next few months where I wished I had worn them, but it was just luck that I managed to hold on and did not embarrass Sister. At the age of eight, I should not have had such problems; it was just living here that made me so uneasy over so many matters, for some reason since coming to the Home that I found I needed to go for a pee much more often.

PUNISHMENTS

Extra chores were an ideal form of punishment. If set a chore when our favourite TV programme was on, even if the chore itself was useless, we soon knew not to repeat our bad behaviour. As a younger one in the flat, some minor physical punishments were also used as a way of keeping me well behaved. When you reached senior school age Sister did not bother with the slipper; restricting your privileges was felt a far better way of controlling any poor behaviour. The older three boys seemed to always fall into the age group to lose privileges.

Sister was quite kind in not embarrassing me in front of others when it came to such punishments. Often whilst the others were all watching TV, I would be called out of the dayroom. I might escape with a telling off or some chores; if not I would be escorted to the bedroom. The events of my bad behaviour would be explained. Sister was never angry with me at the time that I was punished, but it was easy to tell she was not pleased with me.

The first time Sister gave me the slipper had been about a week after my arrival; a minor argument and I was soon alone in my room with Sister. I was in total fear of the punishment. I had not expected to wet myself, and I just could not help it. I was expecting it to hurt far more than a spanking from my grandmother when she had only used her hand, and with Sister picking up a slipper, I had expected far more pain.

Once given the slipper, I was told to go and have my bath, as it was almost the time for me to go in any case. Nothing further was said over the matter, my tears proving to her that I knew to be better behaved. The only real difference I found was that unlike a spanking from my grandmother, there was the lack of any reward from Sister to make things better.

This punishment had been two days before a visit from my mother. I expected Sister to tell her about my behaviour, but nothing was said to my mother when she came, and even when I returned at the end of the visit, nothing was mentioned about either event. I soon realised how kind Sister was: once I had been punished that was the end of the matter. I knew not to say anything to my mother about having received the slipper if I wanted to keep in her good books. Now I knew what the slipper from Sister was going to be like, I had no more fear, but knew if I had done something wrong the matter would soon be over.

During other punishments, if I was in my pyjamas that was all right; if I was in trousers, these were normally to be taken down, leaving me in underpants. It was not necessary if my behind was not well covered for her to put that much effort into a hit, and it stopped us having additional pairs of underpants hidden under our trousers to lessen the pain.  Often either two or three hits were all that were ever done; they were enough to make me cry. Had I not cried I could bet that the next time the slipper was given, it would be with a little more effort; once over I was left in my room. That was the end of the punishment and nothing more would be said. When I felt like returning to the others I could, but it was recommended by Sister that I went and washed my face first. In a way I did not really mind the odd hit with the slipper given by Sister; they were not as painful as school punishments and with no chores set, I did have more of my own time to enjoy. When my tears had finished, we would be friends again.

I was given the slipper on odd occasions when Sister found that the insides of my wellingtons were damp. The Home possessing no ponds or such areas where you could wade in water, meant that unless I came up with a good explanation I must have been out of bounds. I was not going to admit the hiding places where I had found interesting adventure areas with water; the others would soon find out. Although they had been here longer than I had and would have been past these places, they did not seem to realise their potential.

 There was an area under the Administration Block with its flooded cellar to explore; in the grounds there was the area at the far end of the disused railway cutting where a small pond formed after heavy rain and a small pond was located at the back of the cemetery if you climbed the fence onto the railway line. These were all places that if waded in, could risk water going inside your wellingtons. All were out of bounds, so I should not have been there in the first place; that would have meant the slipper from Sister or the cane from the Governor. Accepting Sisters punishment, when her thoughts were that I might have been playing with the gardeners hosepipe in the out of bounds orchard area, meant a few light hits with the slipper and the ability to keep my play areas secret.  

One of my major crimes was daft. Near to the carpenter’s hut there were a few sheds, most containing grass cutting and similar equipment. One of the sheds was used by the nursing Sister to store her car, and as I knew that the only thing in this shed was the car, as it was locked there was no point in trying to get in as there was nothing interesting.

A couple of younger children had been around and had been playing with the padlock and chain. How the chain snapped in my hand I did not know, but I was left holding a broken chain. With no reason to go any further into the shed, I let it go. It was decided that it might be best if we were not around. It was a day later when Sister tackled me over the matter. There was little point in trying to get out of the punishment; there were two other children, who could put the blame on me.  Soon I was in my bedroom and receiving the slipper. It did hurt, but it might have been worse had I tried to put the blame on the other two.

  During the period that Sister looked after me, the number of occasions I received the slipper from her would have been around a dozen, and as this worked out to less than once a month, she must have been quite tolerant of my behaviour.

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Continued

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