Sunday, December 12, 2021

1965 part 1

September 3rd 1965, I was about to land at Heathrow, the London airport. I kept popping my ears as the Air France Caravelle 1A was descending. I was half deaf when the Immigration Officer examined my visa and questioned me, "What will you be studying at Saint Mary of Colchester?" He had to repeat the question. "I will be taking the A-levels, Sir." He then smiled and welcomed me in French, "Bienvenue au Royaume-Uni Mademoiselle !"
The Customs Officer waved me through and seemed to smile as I was tugging down my miniskirt while pulling my suitcase on wheels. In France, the miniskirt wasn't as popular as in the UK and it was my first mini. I wasn't used to wearing such a short skirt, but I was quite proud of the sparks in the eyes of the boys.
Walking through the sliding "arrival" doors, I saw a girl about my age waving a cardboard sign with Béa, short for Béatrice, written on it. I recognized Maggie from the polaroids we had exchanged by mail. We spontaneously hugged each other and her mother offered a warm smile with, "Welcome to England dear Béatrice."
Next was the long drive to Colchester and their house. It was located in an affluent neighborhood, each house had a car. It wasn't much different from home, and their car, as ours, had the wheel sticker of the Rotary International which had organized my student exchange.
They had a cozy living room with a Motorola color television, exactly like ours. I was told, "First thing first call your parents on the telephone." I did and was again reminded that Mr and Mrs Barrington are now my loco parentis, "...and you will be a good girl!"
"Oui Maman !"
Maggie was told to show me my room. I followed her up the carpeted stairs and thought that her mini was shorter than mine. I almost saw her knickers.
 I discovered a beautiful room with flowery curtains, a comfy bed, and a desk with text books already covered. She also showed me my school uniform in the cupboard. I wasn't too enthralled by the navy cardigan, the white blouse, stripped tie, and the knee-high socks or the white schoolgirl knickers. The red plaid kilt was short. That should be fun for teasing the local boys. She sighed as she explained, "Although we will be taking our A-levels we still have to wear the school's uniform."
Her mother called from the kitchen, "Maggie, please set up the table for dinner, and Béa is to help you."
I was shown the drawers with the silverware, "The one on the right with the everyday stuff." said Maggie. From the nearby living room we could hear the radio, and I guessed that her father was back from work.
Maggie showed off with juggling a plate. She was very good, and I applauded. She must have felt encouraged and tried with a second plate. The plates went up one after the other. She caught one and sent it back up, and the other one was faster than her and crashed. CRACK!
Her mother was out of the kitchen as fast as a Serengeti lioness taking down an antelope for breakfast. Mrs Barrington had the largest wooden spoon I had ever seen. She grabbed Maggie and pulled her over her knees after having sat on one of the dinning room chairs. She then raised her miniskirt and yanked her knickers down to her knees. It was la fessée. I was mesmerized.
"Oh! Ah! Mum please, I am sorry!"
"Oh! Ah! Ouch!"
Mummy please!"
"Ouch! Ouch! Sniff... Sniff..."
"Ouch! Ouch! Ouch! Sniff.... Sniff..."
I hadn't counted the smacks. I thought that it was quite severe, although I had no way of comparing. It was the first time I was witnessing a spanking. She had pedaled her legs and I saw everything. How embarrassing it must have been for her!
When she was helped back on her feet she was told not to rub, "Or I'll give you another one, and clean up that mess!" Then she turned to me, "I heard you applauding, if you encourage her again I will give you the same as her, and help her clean that mess!"
I had also never received a fessée. I stammered as I offered a pitiful, "I am.. am... sorry... very sorry, Ma'am." I couldn't help blushing, but I sure wasn't blushing as red as Maggie.
While helping my new sister clean up the debris, I remembered Maman warning me a few days ago, "You be a good girl in Great Britain, or you will taste British discipline!" I now knew what she meant. I might receive la fessée cul nu, although I am eighteen as Maggie.
Dinner was next and her father told me to call them Aunt Dorothy and Uncle Edward. I nodded with a smile, and soon lost it as he added, "I was on the phone with your father a month ago to finalize the details of your venue. He was sorry to tell me that you had your baccalaureate on your second attempt and without honors. I assured him that you will have your A-levels with honors on your first attempt. He also said that he has been too lenient with you. "With us if you have poor grades, it is the belt on your bare bottom, and six of the best with the cane for failing grades."
I gulped, blushed and almost peed my knickers.
Later in Maggie's room, I was quite embarrassed as she raised her skirt and lowered her knickers to rub her still vividly red derriere with Yardley Aloe Vera Cream. She must have seen my bewildered look, and with incredulous eyebrows, asked.
"Huh! You have never been spanked?!"
"Nope... never... what about the cane?"
"It stings like the Dickens!"
"And you have stripes for a week."
That evening we watched Coronation Street on their telly. There was plenty of words I didn't understand, as if it was mixed with a different language.
Later up in our rooms, Maggie played a Beatles' record and I forgot about English discipline as we danced and sang,
All my troubles seemed so far away
Now it looks as though they're here to stay
Oh, I believe in yesterday..."
Béatrice and Maggie
To be continued...
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