What I did to face up to my fear of flying

Despite the allure of sunshine and sangria, I knew it would involve boarding a plane.

Until 1993, I had flown long-haul all over the world to locations such as Brazil, Bangkok and New York. I never really enjoyed it but it was no big deal.

I even flew on Pan Am 101 just four days after the Lockerbie tragedy.

This all changed when I took a short-haul flight to Milan, Italy.

I hated it all the way there and I hated it even more all the way back, when the plane shook with turbulence.

I screamed 'I want to get off,' for almost two hours, spreading terror, no doubt, among my fellow passengers.

No sooner had I collected my baggage than I had developed a phobia which meant I would not board a plane for years.

The desire to holiday abroad was one of the main motivations which pushed me to face up to my fear this year. No disrespect to Scotland or Devon but they cannot compete with snorkelling off the coast of Sumatra.

I contacted a Surrey-based company called Aviatours, who have been running courses for people scared of flying for about 14 years.

When I arrived at Heathrow airport, I truly believed I would be the most terrified, crazy passenger they would ever have encountered.

Tragically, just 12 days before my flight, terrorists had struck the United States in hijacked planes.

I telephoned Aviatours in the rather selfish hope the course would be cancelled. However, despite 20 people dropping out, it was still going ahead.

In the week before the course, I was bad-tempered, burst into tears on several occasions and doubted I would be able to go through with it.

When I arrived at a hotel next to the airport, I could hear the roar of planes taking off. I felt like running.

Then I met my fellow pupils.

They included regular flyers who endured terror every time they boarded a plane; those, like me, who had flown and stopped and those who had never boarded an aircraft. There were pensioners, young men and women, tattooed skinhead toughies and even doctors.

All 120 of us were united by our fear.

We spent the day with Captain Richard Parkinson, a British Airways training captain, Senior First Officer Steve Allright and Dr Keith Stoll, a clinical psychologist practising in Harley Street.

For those scared of crashing and dying, First Officer Allright, who had, in my mind, the perfect name for a pilot, said when he was at the controls he certainly did not want to die, so we should trust him.

We were told about every sound a plane made, how it worked and the answers to a barrage of questions about crashing into the sea, air running out onboard, holes being blown in the fuselage and dangerous cargo.

It seemed as though every possible terrible scenario was mentioned.

I was interested but wanted to hear what the psychiatrist had to say.

Dr Stoll said fear was like a gremlin that became more powerful the more people tried to avoid dealing with it.

He taught us breathing exercises and buttock clenching. It works and no one notices.

At check-in, there were a few people, including the beefiest of men, in tears.

I know there was at least one woman who failed to board and a trip to the toilet revealed a few more.

I strapped myself in the seat so tightly my appendix almost burst and concentrated on my buttock squeezing.

Then it hit me what I was scared of. I was scared of everything. The unlucky seat number. It was too hot. I was near an inflatable slide. I was too far back in the plane. Stop. I had to stop the evil thoughts getting in my head.

My flight partner, a friend of mine who loves flying, had joined me. I sat between her and a woman whose father was a retired pilot. We all held hands as we jetted into the skies.

The woman next to me cried as we took off and I shed a few tears once in the air, probably for the eight years I wasted not flying when it wasn't that bad. Once we got over the getting-into-the-air business, I was fine and even looked out of the window as we flew down to the Sussex coast, and along over Worthing, Shoreham and Brighton.

I even dared to look out of the window and saw the Palace Pier on a beautiful sunny day.

We flew over Midhurst to South London, with a clear view of Wimbledon.

I even took a trip up to the cockpit, although the sight of a massive cloud in front of us sent me scuttling back to my seat to strap myself in.

Throughout the trip, the pilots toured the plane talking to us. There was also a running commentary from another pilot about the sounds and sensations. Before we knew it, it was time to land.

On touchdown we all applauded the crew.

My friend said: "It was great. You all got on looking like scared rabbits and you all came off with smiles."

We were handed certificates of success on the plane and told to book a flight as soon as possible to build on our success.

I might go to Amsterdam.

I'm still apprehensive of flying but keep telling myself it is uncomfortable, but not unbearable and the world it opens up is worth it.

Just as my negative thoughts got out of control eight years ago, I'm using positive ones to enable me to fly again.