'What I'll need you to do is take the mask off, hold it out in front of you with your left hand, swim in a straight line for 15 metres, return to the start position and execute the mask replacement and clearing just like before," he explained sanguinely, as if it were the easiest thing in the world. Which it isn't, but nor is the "no mask swim", a particularly difficult part of learning to scuba dive. It's just that I'd built it up to be a big deal in my head. A fair few months ago - nine, to be precise, (where did that time go?) - I wrote about an enthusiastic friend's desire to get us both PADI certified. At the time, I'd yet to venture into the water with a tank of air on my back, the subject of that particular column being me cramming like a student to crack the Dive Table conundrum, pass the test and, more importantly, ensure that decompression sickness never rears its ugly head. For one reason or another - the summer, work, travelling - we only picked up the PADI course again about six weeks ago and not under my instigation. In that time, I'd managed to convince myself that rather than being a fun activity practised by countless people all over the world, scuba was scary. Which of course it can be if you don't follow the rules, but on a day-to-day basis, not so much. Having decided that I was happier above sea level, it took some forceful cajoling from my friend to get me on a bus bound for Fujairah at 6.30am a few Fridays ago, to complete the final open-water dives of the course. I spent the journey feeling vaguely nauseous and trying to sleep. He sat beside me spouting scuba acronyms and generally winding me up even more. By the time we boarded the boat and were asked to perform the pre-dive "buddy" check, I felt like telling the instructor that this was far too intimate a way to describe our relationship. Acquaintance was more apt. As we descended and completed the first few tasks - no mask swim included - predictably, my nerves faded and confidence grew, to the extent that I began to enjoy myself. Clambering back on the boat an hour later, I was ecstatic. My buddy, meanwhile, had turned an interesting shade of green and spent the return journey sitting at the back of the boat, eyes firmly focused on the horizon, occasionally murmuring something about finding his sea legs. Follow <strong>Arts & Life on Twitter</strong> to keep up with all the latest news and events