It seemed like a good idea at the time. Sitting on the jetty in the August sunshine, dangling my feet in the water as I watched the little boats sail by, the thought crossed my mind that I really would like to learn to sail. I'd been on the water before, many times, but always as crew, and now, shorebound and wishing I wasn't, I had a compelling urge to take the tiller myself and sail out onto the wide blue yonder.

Three months later, on a cold, wet and windy November morning, I wasn't quite so sure.....
I'd gone home from my summer holiday full of enthusiasm and mentioned to my son that I quite fancied learning to sail. "Why don't you, then?" he asked, not unreasonably I thought, so I looked up sailing courses near my home and signed up (and paid) for a course at our local outdoor pursuits centre. I'd chosen a full week course in mid-October, reasoning that the weather shouldn't be too bad and hoping for an Indian summer. But a week before the course was due to start the manager had telephoned with the news that the October course was cancelled and would I mind changing to the next one? Which explains how I came to be sitting with thirteen other intrepid would-be sailors staring glumly at the weather and asking ourselves why we weren't sitting by the fire at home.

The first day of the sailing course found fourteen of us assembled in the upstairs room of the centre, overlooking the lake. We eyed each other nervously - there were four pairs: a father-son partnership, two brothers, two small boys and the only other female sailors, two twentysomethings at a guess, were together too, the rest of us were on our own - and our ages ranged from the boys who looked about 10 to the brothers who I judged to be in their fifties - I fitted in there somewhere too, but I'm not saying where - a truly motley crew!

Our instructors came in and introduced themselves, gave us the briefest of introductions to the principles of sailing, and then announced that as it was such a perfect day, we would get out on the water as soon as possible. Perfect day? It was cold, with a biting wind and driving rain - not MY idea of a perfect day and, judging from the expressions on the faces around me, not anyone else's either! But off we obediently trotted, to be shown around our first craft and instructed how to put them together, given dry land tuition on how to steer the things and then - off onto the water.
One by one we were put through our paces, just out across the bay near the landing-stage to prove we could sail out, turn and come back alongside. Eventually my turn came and I discovered just how TINY the dinghies were as I struggled to change sides to tack back; before I knew it, I was in the water in between the hull and the sail (which was now lying on the surface of the water) and trying to work out where I was and what had happened! Shouts of encouragement and derision in equal quantities were coming from the shore, so I followed the helpful suggestions and swam round the hull and, much to my surprise and everyone else's, managed to right it and climb back in, and sail back to the jetty.

The rest of the day was spent in sailing up and down the lake, learning how to sail round buoys in a figure-of-eight course and practising coming alongside the jetty. Of course, when the instructors weren't watching me I did it perfectly, but as soon as I had their attention - yes, I did it again : right alongside the jetty this time, so the boat could be righted just by pushing the mast upright and I was hauled ignominiously out of the water by my buoyancy aid!

Day 2 dawned bright and breezy - a little TOO breezy for my taste - but game for anything, I turned up at the lakeside kitted out for another dunking. The instructor had news for me : having watched me struggling to get around the little Topper, he had taken pity on me and decided to allow me to join the "improvers" class (and boy, did I have room for improvement) as they were using the bigger dinghies. I was duly put in the charge of two more "experienced" sailors - I mentally dubbed them Tweedledum and Tweedledee, and later found out that the sailing instructors referred to them as "Luff and Leach, the Comedy Sailing Duo." More experienced they may have been, but more competent was debatable! We blundered out from the jetty into open water and I watched in fascination as Tweedledum and Tweedledee argued their way around the lake. They blamed each other incessantly for every mistake, and when it came to my turn at the tiller, argued about how I should be doing it. I found them quite exasperating - "Children! Play NICELY!" and when that didn't work I threatened to crack their heads together.

After lunch the wind picked up even more and caused us one or two scary moments : one of the shrouds (the rigging that holds the mast up) came adrift so we struggled back to the shore for repairs, then we lost the jib and had to be towed back for more repairs (a rope had snapped) and finally one of the duo nearly ended up over the side when the boom caught him a hefty blow across the back of his head (of course, it wasn't HIS fault he was standing up and not paying attention to what was going on) but I survived, although with my nerves in shreds. I did, however, have a word with the instructors once we were on shore and out of earshot, and told them NO way was I going back in a boat with them!

By days three and four I had settled into the routine (and been allocated a more competent partner) and I was actually quite proficient at getting the boat ready to take out on the lake; I knew port from starboard, could tell a luff from a leach, and could tie more knots than you would ever think it necessary to know (far more than I needed for the Level 1 test, but that's what you get when you're a Guide leader...) Unfortunately my actual sailing skills were lagging behind my theoretical knowledge so I really did need to practise. Once more we set off out onto the lake, tacking upwind (and uprain, if there is such a term!) and round the buoys; we also circled round the smaller boats - I found it hard to comprehend that some people were actually sailing those floating bathtubs from choice now - which were more manoeuvrable but which for some inexplicable reason didn't seem to see the need to get out of our way!

The next weekend was a complete contrast - mild, misty, and absolutely NO wind at all. We spent all the Saturday morning doing theory and tying knots - we covered the syllabuses for Levels 1 to 3 while we waited in vain for the wind - and in the afternoon we admitted defeat, got out the Canadian canoes and went out to play on the lake. Yes, we were supposed to be leaning to sail, but to sail you need at least a breath of wind!

Before leaving home early on the last Sunday morning, I logged on to the Internet and found the local weather forecast. Excellent - wind: light breeze, force 2 - 3 from the west : just what the doctor ordered. Light breeze is just fine.

When I arrived at the centre I looked doubtfully at the flag, barely managing to flutter away from the vertical. Although I'm not the most daring of sailors, even I would have liked a bit more wind then THAT. We assembled as before and were given an outline of the day's proceedings - today we were to be tested! We did an hour or so's theory, while we waited for the wind to pick up - in particular we revises the "rules of the road" as today, they informed us, we would be racing! Not that there were any prizes, or even points for coming first, but we had to agree that the best way of testing us to see whether we could sail a given course was to have us race round it.

The buoys were laid out in a triangular course - that way, even if the wind changed, at some point we would have to sail upwind, downwind and across the wind, tack and gybe, all under racing rules. We chose our boats - some elected to sail solo whilst others (including me) preferred to sail with a partner in one of the bigger dinghies. Trying to obey the rules, we jostled for places near the starting line, trying to be in the best position for when the starter horn sounded: my partner knew what he was doing and in the first race we crossed the line first, well ahead of most of the others, and got a good start to the race. I hung onto the jib sheets, nipped smartly around the boat when needed, hopped up onto the sides and down again, to keep the hull level (I'll admit it, I'm a better crew than helmsman) and we crossed the line in second place. Another race - another second place (the same boat won every race) - Luff and Leach didn't even get across the start line either time, much to everyone's amusement. The buoys had managed to get rather out of place, having got snagged on a couple of laps by boats passing too close, and the downwind leg had got shorter and shorter (and the upwind, tacking, leg correspondingly longer!) For the third race, we changed places and I took the helm. My new partner had proved an excellent confidence-builder and I felt ready to have ago at last, and following instructions I managed to get us across the start line before Luff and Leach, who actually managed to get into this race, but well down the order. I tacked upwind and managed to round the first buoy nicely, overtaking two of the other boats who were swinging just a little too wide, then headed for the next buoy. The sun was shining, the wind had freshened and the boat was fairly zipping along, and suddenly I realised - I really like this sailing lark! Growing in confidence, I tightened the mainsail and turned into the second lap, picking up speed as we went along. We overtook a couple more boats and crossed the finish line a creditable fourth (and ahead of Luff and Leach!) The honour of taking the boat alongside the jetty fell to me, and this time I didn't make a mess of it (oh yes, I'd hit the jetty a number of times when practising....) and came alongside very neatly, and right under the nose of the senior instructor.

All too soon we were taking the sails down, hauling the boats out of the water and dragging them on their trailers into the storage compound before going off to get changed. We'd all passed - we all managed to complete the course several times (even though several of the Toppers had capsized, there's nothing to say you can't go for a swim and still pass, as long as you follow the correct procedure for a capsize.)

As we were saying our farewells and leaving to go home, we heard a voice from the office : "Does anyone want a badge or a certificate?" Badge OR certificate? After I've worked so hard? Gimme both!!