A beach in glorious Phuket, Thailand, seemed the idyllic spot to try the sport for the first time.

Someone took the windsurfer out to sea for me and I swam out to join him. Then, eager to put my newfound skills to the test, I climbed on board and scudded backward and forward across the wide bay.

The real reason for my seeming stamina was that I was not able to work out how to turn the sail to head back to shore.

Added to this was the fact that I had fallen off several times and had to drag the sail back out of the water. Fairly exhausting stuff.

It had to be simple, but, try as I might, I kept sailing north-south, south-north and could not find the west-east line.

After a couple of hours I decided to push the windsurfer back to shore, swimming behind it. With the sail heavy in the water, this was no easy task.

Forget this for a lark, I thought dejectedly. How could anyone find this an entertaining sport?

Back on shore the instructor came across and applauded. "You are so strong. First time on a windsurfer and you stay for two hours. Everyone on beach talking about you. You can come back every day this week and surf for free," he said, beaming.

"But why you not sail back and why you paddle the board back? Why you push it through the water. Very stupid, very hard."

"Cause you no tell me how to sail it back, and me too tired to get on again after falling off all the time," I hissed.

He looked at me as thought I was mad... and I probably was.

It seems during the half-second at which he had shown me how to perform the crucial manoeuvre to head back shoreward, I had been checking out the bronzed form of a young man walking by.

I didn't take up the offer of free windsurfing. After all, I was staying 5km away, over a steep, jungle-strewn mountain.

And I still had to walk all the way back that day after my muscle-flexing, windsurfing fling.

Sourced with thanks from IOL Travel