Hi folks
Another day spent pubing (oh the joys of alcoholism) and a wonderful (if expensive) experience it was too. And today I see yet again the sun shines brightly so we'll see...
This pic I found in my collection of magazine scans. I know it came from Janus so the artist will have been Hardcastle or Paula Meadows but I'm not sure which (perhaps someone could let me know). The point about it for me is how it manages to capture and encapsulate the type of institutionalised atmosphere I have been attempting to evoke within my scribblings - of course one could criticise one or two elements suggestive of a certain lackadaisical approach to discipline. For example there has been far to much latitude given away to individuality in terms of their hair styles and then there are those name tags: a nice enough detail at first sight, but shouldn't there be simply numbers engraved there?
I didn't actually get anything written as such yesterday but I did get into conversation with a couple of like-minded chaps who clearly had the right attitude in dealing with their women folk - one had apparently used his slipper in the past and the other, a Polish gentleman, admitted to keeping a cane at home (don't we all?).
Inspiration flowed from another direction too: I read through some old correspondence I have been having with a reader that had been particularly enamoured with the first volume. He particularly likes to see portrayed the corner-standing type of discipline of old but also is much interested in interrogation scenarios wherein the miscreant would have to stand strictly to attention before the questioner's desk and perhaps be sent back to stand in the corner if not responding in a satisfactorily detailed manner. Nice enough in itself but difficult to introduce into the story-arc in a plausible way; the trouble is, the assumption has to be that there is something that the young lady would rather not disclose, or at least would be loath to disclose in the required detail. And, of course, her reluctance would have to be great enough that she would have to suffer various and possibly repeated punishments before being slowly broken down to the required level of supplication.
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As readers of INSTITUTIONALISED will know; I am always willing to go beyond the usual ritualistic caning, tawsing, spanking form of punishment in such situations and such a scenario easily lends itself (quite excitingly, I think) to the more psychological approach: think one or two nights without sleep, confined to her hospital bed but continually attended by a nurse at the bedside, changed over in shifts, and strictly instructed to keep her eyes open, perhaps a sharp face-slap (not brutal, just sharp enough) delivered from time to time as a reminder of the required obedience. Then, come the morning, its back to that room, the psychologist's office, and the questioning and probing (and long hours of corner standing) restarts anew. Of course the cane will be waiting, but put to use only after they are satisfied with her responses to their queries and the psychologist is happy that she has extracted every tiny embarrassing little detail that the girl was so reluctant to divulge - she will be told the caning is by way of punishment for having wasted so much of every one's time!
Yes I love it! The trouble was always; what might they ask, what might she not want to give away? Then, yesterday in a booze-fueled re-reading of some stuff I wrote a couple of days ago it hit me - it was all there in the 'Behind the Stained Glass Window' chapter I have been serialising in this very blog.
So now I know, and you readers have a inkling at least, where this particular thread is leading...suffering, anguish and plenty of it!
Now, changing the subject; I have just added a couple of links to the blog list:
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And lastly, before I forget, I thought I'd offer up another one of those inspirational images that have so informed my work (My God, that sounds so posy!). Anyway I just think this is so right for a governess. It is from a mid 1980s catalogue supplied by Garroulds of London, a company now sadly defunct that once had a delightful shop in the Edgware Road, London.
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This dress was once available in a long sleeved version with buttoned cuffs and in a variety of colour-ways (the navy-blue long sleeved version was a delightfully authoritative confection indeed, just envisage: a fine whippy cane in hand and a cultured cut-glass, no-nonsense voice..."bend over, girl, get those knickers down this instant!").
Hi folks it's another bright sunny day here in North London and I'm off down the pub - yes, at this time of day. The local Wetherspoon's opens its doors at eight and serves its first pint at nine - I'm already behind schedule then! I didn't get much done yesterday past answering the plethora of e-mails that had built up but I did develop some interesting ideas last night over a few pints and those shall be the seeds of today's work. I should think today's outpourings are more likely to become part of volume 3 rather than volume 2 but without giving away too much the basic outline revolves around the concept of a very detailed, personal and embarrassing interrogation of one of the girls by a doctor. Initially she is non cooperative but then the interrogation of another takes place in her presence and she is able to witness first-hand the likely results of the repercussions she is risking bringing down on herself.
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