Smacking did me good

I was smacked as a child. Once. I was six and was behaving terribly at a friend's party - sulking, being rude, refusing to leave and kicking and screaming when asked to. When this continued at home, my frustrated mother grabbed a spoon and struck the back of my hand.

Yes, it hurt, my skin went horribly red and I remember being stunned. But it did the job. I can remember thinking I'd pushed Mum too far; yes I felt cross with her, but also with myself, knowing I had behaved abominably.

There was also, it has to be said, the "flicking". If Mum lost her temper, she had a powerful weapon in her armoury. She would, like lightning, swat an available body part to break up a sibling argument or general fractiousness.

My older brother, Daniel, and I became experts at dodging it, but when she made contact, it hurt. And she still can't break the habit - my brother remembers a flick at Easter, and he's now 30!

Under proposals passed by the House of Lords this week, parents could face prosecution for all but the gentlest smacks. Bruising, cuts, abrasions, or even making a red mark with the back of a spoon, could all land parents in jail.

But I was never hit as a child - hitting implies a clenched fist, adult violence. A smack is a short, sharp swipe, causing little pain but shocking a child into momentary silence and the long-term realisation that the behaviour that provoked the smack was unacceptable.

My memories of my childhood are fairly idyllic. I grew up in Bath and London and although we sometimes had nannies until I was six, I don't remember them. Mum worked from home and was always there to administer love and authority. A far worse punishment than a smack (when I'd thrown food at the babysitter) was not being allowed to climb into bed with my parents to watch telly before going to school.

We have always been a tactile family: Mum would embarrass me with hugs and kisses outside school, and Dad made sure, even though he was always busy working, that he was there to read a bedtime story. But there were rules. Homework straight after school, limited TV, please and thank you always, punctual bedtimes.

There were more serious smackings. As a daddy's girl, the mere idea of a telling-off from my father would be enough, but my brother remembers being properly put across Dad's knee - once. He was about nine, and had had a huge tantrum, then punched Mum and winded her.

Of course, many people find this paradoxical: how can we teach a child not to hit by hitting? But my brother feels it was right. He never hit my mother again and, contrary to reports of the psychological damage smacking can cause, he has never hit anybody and has definitely not turned into a violent young man.

But Mum and Dad never injured us. I believe a lot of my generation - I'm now 24 - wonder what all this fuss is about. Most of my friends' parents used a smack as a last resort and we all agree it was always deserved and, more importantly, it worked.

One friend told me of the time she had a rage in a crowded supermarket and her mother giving her a wallop. She remembers it vividly and likens it to slapping someone who was hysterical.

During our teens, smacking had stopped - by this time "disappointing" Mum or Dad was enough to prevent bad behaviour. I remember Mum's best friend advising her that the best way to get rid of my awful boyfriend was to stop complaining about him. She was right: as soon as Mum "approved", the boy got ditched. But she was fierce about stopping me wearing hot-pants and nail varnish.

Teenage arguments were always explosive but I knew not to push my parents too far. We also talked - about sex, drugs, friends - and I went to my parents for advice about everything and always phoned if I was going to be late.

Mum and Dad were smacked by their parents - we tease my grandmother for spanking Dad with the soft side of a hairbrush, which didn't hurt him in the slightest, and Mum remembers the odd slap on the leg. In their day it was normal: Dad's boarding school and Mum's state primary both allowed use of the ruler, which was worse than anything they could expect at home.

Although Mum and Dad grew up at different ends of the class spectrum, their parents had similar attitudes, which they passed on to us. Talking about it now, they say they don't feel guilty, and nor would I expect them to.

Would I smack my children? Probably, but only as a last resort. I honestly don't believe it did me any harm.