I could never really understand why my mother was so strict with my brother; she controlled almost every aspect of his life, especially at home. First she insisted on him having a curfew, three o’clock, this gave him barely enough time to get home from his part time job, she would accept no excuses whatsoever, on one occasion the bus he was on was involved in a traffic accident, he had to walk the last mile home; he was still given a strapping on his bare bottom and was grounded for the rest of the month. He was prepared for bed at the same time every day and was put to bed by seven o’clock, she never let up on this bedtime rule; or, if she did I for one never saw it. Due his curfew time he would be home by a quarter to three, once he was in the house, mother would have his dinner on the table within twenty minutes, after eating he would be sent up to have his bath, (for some reason he was never allowed to take a shower like me and mum, I still don’t know why she insisted on this.) once in the bath he had to stay there until mum came up to check he was properly clean, only then would she dry him off and put him into his bedtime pyjamas. If he had behaved himself and was lucky, mum would put him into his boy pyjamas, typically with trains and aeroplanes printed on them, if she was displeased with his behaviour, or just wanted too he would be dressed in his punishment pyjamas, girly, with bunny rabbits or love hearts.
In contrast I could come home as I pleased, even though I was two years younger, I could go to bed as I liked, pretty much do as I liked.