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Friday, 5pm.

Panic is irrational. Though kitting up when instructed, it was far too soon and sitting in a wet wet-suit for half an hour on a cold overcast evening wasn’t a good start. Already shivering, and the unexpected entry plan just about finished me off.

We had our briefing. Listening to what Lee had to do for the end of his open water put my head in overload. Lou and Eileen would be concentrating on his efforts; Lou would move between Lee and myself; Steve (the Dive Master) would keep an eye out for me. This again conspired against my rational thought. To my mind I’m hearing: one or the other will keep an eye on me, but they are watching how Lee progresses, so they will be distracted and that is when things can go wrong…

Next, we trudge to the pier where we are to step off the floating jetty. A boat pulls in just as we arrive. A quick change of plan and we are stepping off the back of this boat, just like stepping off the edge of the pool. But my head is crowded. I stand on the edge of the platform, don’t want to bang the tank as I step off. 3,2,1 – go. A giant stride (with a helpful shove, once I step out) and it is OK.

I surface and I’m too buoyant. I need to let air out of my BCD, but I don’t; I feel unbalanced and my feet are up. I feel like I did when I first got in the pool with an oversized BCD. My weights feel unbalanced and I am starting to panic. I won’t signal OK. I don’t thrash around in panic, but mentally I’m freaking out. Tears fill my eyes. Lou is facing me the whole time, but I am not able to verbalise how I feel, and why I feel panic. I can write it here, after the fact. She is calm and helps me work through it. It takes so long to calm down. I want out, but I won’t let myself, not after the age it’s taken to get in!

We swim backwards and arrive at the pillar, where we swap to the snorkel to save air. I flip forward and can’t right myself. I can breathe; I’m surprised by that. I’m panicked and need to swap to the regulator. I hear Lou saying: swap from your snorkel to your regulator. I can do this skill with ease, but there is no way the snorkel is coming out of my mouth right now. I am helped to an upright position and swap. Five more minutes to calm then we descend; no five points this time, just down.

I’m now on the bottom, kneeling in the sand, and breathing. We stay in this position a little longer, then swim. The water under the pier is clear as a bell. The colours are striking and clean. We spend more time looking around us: reds, browns, and the pale of the sand. A large Wrasse is swimming at eye level and the shanny are out in style.

We watch a while. I can imagine drawing but I’m very cold and my body is involuntarily shaking (maybe a combination of earlier panic and the water temperature). After thirty minutes the cold gets the better of my body. We have a buddy swap and surface. Skirting the pier, we fin backwards until we’re close to the steps. I feel like a spoon-fed child. I’m helped out of my fins and we walk to the steps and back to the van. Horribly cold. My air has gone form 220 to 70! I didn’t check it before dismantling my equipment, so it would have been slightly higher as I blew out the cap  a few times to dry it. Regardless, I breathed hard tonight.

PADI speed and I are not suited. Lou arranges another evening in the pool – and if I clear my mask within half an hour, with the skills I have already obtained, I will be classed as a scuba diver and will have my first foot on the ladder. But as for open water, it’s well beyond my grasp right now.