My father would constantly remind us that he had the responsibility to "use the rod" or the broom, or the strap, or the electric jug cord, or whatever was lying around...he would frequently twist scriptures to justify his violent behaviour. My older sister used to stand up for us when she could, and because of this he would tell her that he would break her in like a horse. I remember standing back powerless as he would hit her head on the tiled floor. I would try to console my little brother after he had received "the strap", and as a result would cop it myself. A large part of the punishment was that the "wrongdoer" would have to go to their room and cry in isolation. The "discipline" was never consistent, we got it mostly when we didn't deserve it, and on occasions when we possible did. My sisters and my bedroom walls used to have strap marks on the paintjob, from where dad had swung and missed lol! It was pretty much routine that when we got home from the k/hall my sister and I would race to the bedroom and put as many tracksuit pants and clothes on as possible, so as to get maximum padding for minimum pain. After our painful round table family studies you could almost evertime guarantee that someone would cop it for misbehaving. It was so bloody dull, and it was bloody hard for us all to sit back and listen to our wise family head preach at us, while he physically beat all us kids, and treated my mother like absolute trash, while rocking up for meetings looking holy as ever with his well behaved kids by his side. frog of the I will probably never have tadpoles class, but if I ever did would treat them with love and respect frog
