For your delectation: ' Tobacco - Raleigh's Legacy! ' by Ian Tufft - 3 Huntsman (1963)
I'm sure we all remember how 'groovy' ('cool' in todays parlance) it was to smoke in those heady days of the '60s.

Indeed, which one of us can stand up honestly and say he was never tempted to 'half inch' one of his Dad's Woodbines and have the occasional drag behind the potting shed or wherever? Most of us actually did the deed (come on own up, you did it just like I did) - the result was you felt like James Dean for 10 minutes, then came over all queasy and purple-faced before feeling like vomitsville, Arizona, thence returning indoors to inquisitive parents enquiring as to your health and reporting (in dismissive tones) 'fine'.

Well, the deadly weed proved my undoing one balmy afternoon in 1963. I was travelling home on the No 74 homebound bus. It was, of course, accepted practice to travel always on the top deck. Downstairs was reserved for Swats, Wimps and Wrinklies. And what was proscribed downstairs but permitted on top? You've got it, yep - SMOKING!

There was a crowd of regular trouble-makers (common lot that we snobs from Ecclesall always tried to avoid). Some baiting ensued and I got harangued - ''Come on Tuffty, have a fag or are you still teachers's pet, eh?'' All very belittling when you are picked on when with your closest mates. Now, you have to understand that Yours Truly was a real goodie two-shoes who had never been in trouble before; indeed, the very thought of a detention, let alone anything more serious, was anathema to me.

I eventually caved in to halt the verbal tirade. A smoke was passed to me and I took a drag. From that moment I was dead in the water. A senior boy sitting quietly nearby who I didn't know, revealed himself as a Prefect and 'booked' me. If I had been wearing a stress monitor it would have exploded! For reasons I do not understand to this day, my tormentors got off Scot free and I was summoned to see Yak the next day along with 3 other unsavoury characters (regular ne'er do wells) who'd also been 'done' for an unrelated smoking offence.

Yak was brief and to the point. He asked each of us whether it was true that we had been smoking - thereby disobeying a strict rule and disgracing the name of the school. [You will remember that the journey to & from school was considered part of the school day]. When he turned to me, I confessed, apologised and attempted to explain. My feeble bleatings were quickly dismissed with that 'Yak look' - an uncanny combination of fear (that commanded respect) and disappointment that a pupil of his had let him down.

We were asked to line up and hold out our right hands, palms upward. I was a trembling jelly but when I eyed a glance down the line at my fellow transgressors there seemed to be a relaxed air about them. I was puzzled. Yak took up his position in front of the desk and straightened his gown. The fearsome cane went up and I braced myself for the certain pain that was about to be inflicted upon me. With closed eyes I winced as every nerve in my hand reacted violently to the full force of the birch. My eyes immediately welled up and tears started to form but these had of course to be suppressed. I was overcome with shame and, though I couldn't deny my (technical) guilt, nevertheless felt angered that the real perpetrators had escaped punishment leaving me to be the patsy. I left Yak's room with a red line across my throbbing hand feeling the world was an unjust place.

Outside in the Foyer the others were chuckling. 'Not to bad then eh?' said one thrusting out his hand, which bore hardly a mark! 'Yeh, same old bleating from Yak' crowed another. I stood aghast. 'What do you mean - ''not too bad''?', I whimpered. 'Well, you did move your hand when he brought the cane down didn't you?' 'What are you talking about?' 'You mean you held it out straight just like he told you to?' 'Of course, didn't we all?' 'Look idiot, are you clued up or what? When y'ur about get the cane, just before it comes down, the trick is to lower your hand slightly - that way you make sure you aren't the one who takes the full force of the whack!

'Aaaaaaaaaarrrrrrrgh!!!!!!!!!'

It was the final indignity. I never told my parents and was never in trouble again!

Reflecting all these years later, I wonder if, in the great scheme of things, there was not a reason for what happened. All I could see then was a huge injustice, but what if the good Lord in his mysterious way was simply wanting to indicate his displeasure with me for other misdemeanours and get me back on the straight and narrow? If so, he succeeded and I am grateful he confined my punishment to just the one stroke! (??)

Regards, Ian