The art of learning to swim

Scared of the water as a child, Mark Collings never learned to swim. Suprisingly, for an island community, many Bahrainis and expats born in the kingdom do not know how to either and summer often brings swimming pool tragedies in its wake as a result. So could Mark overcome his phobia on an intensive course in Sicily?

I'm sitting in a hotel conference room in Sicily with a dozen or so people I've just met, and their expectant faces have locked on to mine. The glorious spring sun is shining and the lemon trees are swaying gently in the warm breeze outside, but my business, for now at any rate, is inside.

My moment has arrived. I squirm a little in my chair and smile thinly to the group as it's my turn to introduce myself. My girlfriend clasps my hand and smiles at me with a look that says, 'You can do it'. I clear my throat: "Hello everyone, my name is Mark and I'm a non-swimmer."

This is NOT a therapy session, this is the first day of a six-day swimming holiday in Sicily and I'm releasing a small part of the burden I've carried with me since childhood - the fact that I am scared of the water and I swim like an anvil.

The holidays are run by swimming guru Steven Shaw. A former competitive swimmer, Shaw is widely regarded as one of the best teachers in the world.

His unique method has helped everyone from non-swimmers to Olympic hopefuls gain 'efficiency' and confidence in the water. If he can't help me, no one can.

I hail from a long line of sinkers - my dad was in the Navy, yet he couldn't swim a stroke. Through a mixture of lack of confidence and at one stage lack of trunks - mum sent me to my first lesson in underpants - I fell behind in school swimming lessons and never caught up. While the other kids were diving for bricks in their pyjamas, I was shunted to the paddling pool with only a large rubber ring and a skinny kid called Nigel for company.

Holidays became an exercise in cunning as I desperately tried to conceal my secret. I would look on enviously at the pool-based frolics while claiming I had a bad back.

The Shaw Method was devised by Steven and his ex-wife, Limor. It takes the breathing methods and posture principles - neck, back and head alignment - of the Alexander Technique, in which Steven is a qualified tutor, and transfers them to the water. As I am a complete novice, he recommends I book some private lessons with him.

I spend the first 10 minutes of the half-hour lesson clinging to the side of the pool unable to overcome a dizzy feeling - similar to vertigo - as I look out across the expanse of water. "It's an irrational fear," I say, apologetically. "If you've never swum before, fear of the water is totally rational," Steven reassures me. We concentrate on walking and breathing exercises and by the end of the first lesson I'm beginning to make a little progress.

The workshop venue this year is the Kempinski Giardino di Costanza, a luxurious hotel surrounded by olive groves in the northwest of Sicily.

Our group encompasses all ages and abilities, ranging from novices who want to build their confidence to expert swimmers looking to fine-tune their technique. We are divided into two groups, depending on ability, and given personalised timetables, which include two one-hour group lessons daily, and some half-hour one-to-one lessons.

Surrounded by large windows, the indoor pool looks inviting even to me. Our work in the pool will be complemented by daily dry-land sessions where Steven breaks down the stroke into its components, explaining the mechanics and the correct breathing, and we practise until it comes automatically. It feels a bit like a tai chi class as we swim through the air.

Through a combination of this 'virtual swimming' and Steven's Zen-like calm and patience in the pool sessions, I find my confidence growing. So much so that by the middle of the week I'm gliding face down, moving with a breaststroke kick with a degree of confidence.

Steven shows us video footage of our technique so we can see how we are improving. Everyone is making great progress. My girlfriend, a lifetime 'dry-hair swimmer', is moving through the water like a seal rather than a cocker spaniel.

With 10 minutes of the final lesson to go, I launch myself into a glide with my head right under the water and suddenly I'm moving through the water unaided. For a second or two there is no help from Steven or anyone else. It's just me, head down, breathing out into the water and looking at the blue tiled floor. It doesn't last long, a few seconds or so, but it feels great.

"Leonardo da Vinci said that swimming is the closest we come to flying," says Steven as we dry off. I smile because, for the first time in my life, I understand what he means.

Check out www.artofswimming.com for more details.