Iain White finds himself strangely buoyant as he finally determines to experience the joys of swimming

I GAZED forlornly out of the train window. I had volunteered for this endurance, and soon, there would be no turning back. I had foolishly agreed to join a swimming course to overcome fears rooted far back in my distant childhood. The memory of a bunch of adolescent school kids shivering beside the poolside, the nauseating smell of chlorine, and the barking instructions of a sadistic instructor, were now haunting my thoughts. It seemed that I was heading for the deep end, and there was no turning back.

Allan, my teacher at the Swimschool, had introduced himself wearing a comfortable tracksuit, flip-flops, and a gently affable smile. Now sipping coffee by the poolside, he looked me in the eye, and offered his first, and most persuasive reassurance: ``You cannot sink...... it is impossible, believe me.......'' I gazed uncertainly at the warm, aquamarine pool, classical music gently wafting around us, and not even a whiff of bleach to un-nerve my senses. This was not what I had expected, and was unlike any of my previous experiences. Soon I would be enjoying a one-to-one training method, implemented with patience, persuasion, and absolute empathy, and also some very clever psychology.

The Swimschool, which has been operating for 10 years in Clwyd, Wales, and Suffolk in England, have recently opened a new school in Falkirk at the Inchyra Grange Hotel allowing Scots a chance to overcome their aquatic apprehensions.

Their aim is to banish fear and phobias, and develop water-confidence from which swimming follows. The school claims a 99% success rate, including visitors from Thailand, India, Australia, and the Middle East. Allan, a remarkably relaxed and persuasive man, recalled that his oldest successful pupil was 92 years old, and outlined his satisfaction in helping both disabled and blind people to swim for the first time. During the two-day intensive course, the instructor is always in the water with the pupil, and the emphasis is on individual tuition.

Thus, for two days, Allan reassuringly coached me around the invitingly empty, warm pool. I was kitted out with goggles and suddenly, as I could see under water, the dark, blind panic of previous experience began to fade. Always starting in the safety of the shallows, I would often be surprised to discover myself casually chatting to him with the water up to my shoulders and neck. ``You've been there for five minutes,'' he would chuckle.

I found myself throwing off fear and giving myself over to trust. I was asked to drift like a starfish or curl up foetal-like and float in the middle of the pool, letting the water support me, before smoothly unfolding into a standing position. Bending down to collect a hoop off the pool floor was harder than I expected as my body was constantly pushed back up to the surface. Allan was right, it was almost impossible not to float.

By the last lesson, I finally crossed the pool unaided, and realised, to my surprise, I was actually swimming. After the elation of driving out my fear of water, and realising my body was designed to float, my next step was to increase my confidence in my ability to swim. I knew I could swim, Allan had seen to that, but now I needed more supervised water-time, before heading off into the watery jungle of the public baths.

I chose the International Swimming School in Devon, in my quest to finish what I had started. The course here has a different approach, teaching mixed learners in small groups of six, but offering five continuous days of instruction within two private swimming-pools.

While the teaching is less intensive, the amount of extra time spent in the water is a positive confidence booster, and watching others learn (and making the same mistakes as myself) was both reassuring and instructive.

The mixed abilities of pupils allowed Amanda, our tireless and stoic instructor, time to individually address our problems, and enabled the learners to help each other in pairs or work on their own. The groups were able to boost each other's morale, and humour bolstered sagging egos, as repetitive mistakes were shared.

Everyone reacted differently, Pauline and June were slow, David was nervous, and Audrey absolutely petrified. But May, a delightful Irish lady in her seventies, left us all behind by leaping into action as quickly as the instructions were proffered. She would try anything, and her fearlessness was only bettered by her modesty.

Progress was variable, and successful lessons were often followed by disappointments. By Friday, however, all were swimming to different degrees, and the atmosphere was one of elation.

My own moment of joy arrived when Amanda casually asked me to jump into the deep end, rather than climb gingerly down the ladder into the shallows. I looked at her with some doubt and suspicion. ``Just jump.......in there.......?'' I said pointing nervously. ``In there,'' she said calmly. ``You'll come straight back up.'' I remembered Allan's words: ``you cannot sink ..... it is impossible.......'', and stepped off into my watery oblivion.

I dropped gently through the peaceful depths, touched the bottom of the pool and then began to drift upwards. The feeling of rising back up smoothly, effortlessly, and calmly through the aquamarine waters was like a dream. On the surface was Amanda, smiling and wearing a look of total certainty and confidence. I was in at the deep end all right, but now I didn't want to come out.

FACTFILE

n The Swim School: telephone 01352 740 812. Details from Mike Hughes, 5 Glascoed, Cilcain, Mold, Clwyd CH7 5PP. International Swim School: 01404 822 196. Details from Gerd Ziemer, Straightway Head, Whimple, near Exeter, Devon EX5 2QT. Cross Country Trains: 0990 136107. Direct services from Scotland to Exeter and connections to Suffolk and Wales.