Since December 31st 2007 I have celebrated the arrival of each new year at the Comedy Cafe with the great company of my boyfriend and friends. Some years there are more of us, but most years there is just a core 3.

Every year one of us mentions skiing and, through a long, drunken conversation, the challenge is set for the rest of us to try it. Every year, when we all sober up, somehow we never manage to get around to it.

But this year is different. So far in my life I have remained on the fence about skiing. I am terrifed of heights and the idea of spening a holiday doing exercise, exercise up a mountain that is, seems crazy to me. But I know that those who do it, love it. And just as I trained myself to appreciate coffee, oysters and The New Yorker, all of which I only took up as I know those who partake enjoy it, perhaps I too could grow to love skiing?

Then fortuitiously a few months ago I received an email with a bargain offer on a ski lesson. Seizing the opportunity I immediately booked spaces for the 3 of us and then promptly put it to the back of my mind. Partly in terror of breaking my leg and partly at the thought of the sheer exertion of it all. Fortunately I had preparing for, and being in, New York, to take my mind of its impending arrival but now that has all passed it's forefront in my mind.

Today the day arrived and with some trepidation I found myself heading towards The Snow Centre in Hemel Hempstead my mind whirring with thoughts of broken bones or at the very least wet, sore knees.

The first step was to put on the clothes. Now I knew people wore strange outfits to ski in but it hadn't occured to me that I would have to do so too. Being more blessed with width than height I ended up looking like a short, padded ball of quilted fabric, all in luminious orange and antifreeze blue. Fortunately I looked no stupider than anyone else (or so I convinced myself) and anyway, I was more concerned with how far away the nearest A+E was to worry too much about how I would look arriving there.

Next up was the boots. Once I had managed to get these on, with the aid of a helpful man as I seemed to be incapable of working out just how the many laces, tongues and extraneous pieces were all meant to come together without me losing a toe, I felt completely alien. For some reason my brain was convinced I was wearing ice-skates and walking on a fine point so I spent most of my time convinced I was about to fall over. And I hadn't even put on the skis yet.

All dressed up it was time to head out to the snow. Real snow! Well as real as now indoors can be I guess.

Then it was on with the skis. I thought this would be the worst but but by now my poor brain and body were so baffled by the sequence of events, and strangeness of my outfit, that adding long plastic planks to my feet seemed to be just a minor addition to the weirdity.

There was 8 or so or us in my group and our first lesson was putting on skis and taking them off. once we'd mastered this is was a few other basics such as lifting and gently sliding your feet. With the skis not feeling as weird as I had expected I was slowly coming around to the idea that perhaps this wouldn't be so bad after all. Now I just wanted to ski!

But for some reason the instructor insisted on baby-steps. Perhaps my obvious natural talent for skiing wasn't shining through? Maybe it was overshadowed by all the orange I was wearing. Not wanting to make a fuss I stayed where I was and slowly learnt how to walk forward and side-ways and then slowly, slowly how to gently glide. So far so good. We spent the next hour slowly edging higher and higher up a very gently slope, walking side-ways, and then 'skiing' down it. By skiing I mean moving at a very slow pace with no ski poles. I'm sure to anyone watching we looked pathetic but to me- wow! I was skiing! and even more than that, I was enjoying it.

By the end of the lesson my appetite was truly whetted and we spent the rest of the time we had, just two of us, going up and down the same section (but lazily hitching a ride on a ski tow each time). By the end of it I had evn mastered going in a large curve and then back on myself so I ended up right at the bottom of the tow each time.

Although I'm not sure if I will ever dare to ski outdoors, or go on a ski lift, I have set myself the challenge  of one day being able to ski down the big slope here.

That sounds a good resolution for 2012.