I was the youngest of 4 children. I think my parents were tired of having children. No decent birth control in the 50's. My elder siblings had the knack of playing tricks and then running away to leave me to face the flack. My mother used to hit me (or any of us) with a flat hand across the side of our heads, like a wimbeldon player doing the grand slam. My dad used a heavy leather whip. We had to bend forwards, pull our panties down, and he would give us "cuts" to teach us a lesson I ofen was sent to my room, but I soon discovered I was thin enough to slip through the burglar bars into the garden. Thereafter I was sent to sit in the toilet. This tiny cubicle had a small high window, which proved no hurdle for me. I managed to climb onto the cistern and shivvied out of the window, hanging onto the sill to drop down to the ground outside. When were a bit older, our dad took to giving us endless speeches which made no impression on us, except for us loathing him even more. Often he would tell us we were "big and old and ugly enough" to know this, or to not do that.