I had skiing lessons, but only because of Brad. He was the ski instructor. The blonde with attractive sun-tattooed panda eyes and a smile which I would snow-plough my little heart out for. He was my winter hero, the Ken of the Barbie skiing world.

I have to admit, we didn’t learn too much from him, he started late and finished early so he wouldn’t miss any of the bar action, but hey, his grin was great and the mystique of the “Ski Instructors” stayed with me a long time. As I got older, I learnt to love skiing just a tiny bit more than Brad, and I got impatient with standing around when everyone else around me seemed to be just skiing. So I decided to stop lessons and learn from whoever I was skiing with that was better than me. Which was, of course, endless, but mostly, it meant Dad.

He looked so cool. So smooth. He’d have his legs so close together you’d be hard-pressed to fit a credit card through those suckers. He looked like a graceful water-skier, the epitome of control. Pretty soon I could do it too. I even found a permanent niche for one knee tucked in under the other one, and on a turn it stayed in there so tight, my skis would barely part. I thought I was beginning to take Dad’s title. “Cool Incorporated”.

So at the age of 19, when I went to Canada to do a ski course with my best buddy, I received a rude shock. Forget Brad. Here was Ken. He wasn’t even vaguely related to Barbie, had all the charm of a week old curry, and made it his personal mission to re-educate me on what “cool” means. Each country has it’s own style rules on how you should ski. For the most part, the basics are the same, but there are specific technical differences. The Canadian ski style is a world apart from the traditional Austrian method.

The Austrians are into the legs together, body bobbing, bum slightly swinging look of skiing. The Canadian Ski Instructor’s Alliance swore by skis shoulder-width apart and maximum use of the edges of the skis. It makes sense but it didn’t feel nice. After skiing for so long with my skis together, having them so far apart made me feel like a moron. If Ken saw my knees even accidentally brush past each other, I got a bawling out worthy of a marine recruit. I got so fed up with his accusations that my legs were too close together that one day, just to spite him, I skied with my legs so far apart that if I stretched any more, my ski pants would get permanent air vents. To show I meant business, I stuck my tongue out the corner of my mouth.

I got to Ken, stopped defiantly and said cheekily, “bite that one”. He smiled smarmily, and said loudly; “That was the best I’ve seen you ski so far.” I deflated quicker than a wet paper bag, and then improved more than I had in the previous two weeks.

The mental tussle we go through with the To Take Or Not To Take Ski School arguments centre around the fact that if you only ski for just one week a year, and not only that, but in Europe, the last thing you want to do is stand around and study theory.

The trouble is you never learn, you only go so far before you need to know more if you are to improve. If you have no one to correct you, you pick up the bad habits of those you copy. If they are hot dog skiers, fine, but if they are ex-water skiers, it’s a bit dodgy. The longer you leave a habit, the harder it is to quit when shown the error of your ways.

Peter Kuwall, Technical Development Manager for the British Association of Ski Instructors (BASI), said taking skiing lessons is a growing trend. “Taking lessons is popular among certain nationalities. Brits, Americans, Australians, Japanese are more into lessons than other nationalities. The French are the opposite. They teach themselves and are not interested in control.”

Almost every ski area you’ll go to will have it’s own ski school. Most tour companies can arrange instructions at your level. For two hours a day you can wave cheerily at people stuck in the lift line while you scoot up to the special ski school entrance, have your technique assessed and get a guided tour of the mountain.

After five days of lessons, Peter Kuwall said he would expect 80% of people to be easily skiing basic parallels on blue runs. He acknowledged that downhill skiing is not an easy sport to learn, but added, achievement is one of its appeals.