Regular readers of theLifeboat will know that the RNLI takes training very seriously. But there are some things in life that no amount of training can prepare you for. We follow 26-year-old Alison Panes as she takes us through her first few months as a trainee crew member at Poole lifeboat station...

Joining up Living opposite the station, it was only a matter of time before I was lured to an open day by home-made cakes. I ventured upstairs and chatted to Lifeboat Operations Manager John Carter. Once I'd realised that an 'ordinary' person could join the crew, I didn't think too hard about applying. I love the sea and jump at any opportunity to be out there. I also felt I owed it to the RNLI - for many years I'd sailed with the comforting thought that if I got into trouble, they'd be there. Now that I lived and worked so close to the boathouse, it was practically an obligation.

A few months later I was called to interview and John asked me how I'd feel about dropping everything, day or night, to go off for hours in the lifeboat - or how I'd cope with fishing a dead body out of the sea. 'Fine,' I said - but I guess I'll only really find out when I have to do it.

The following week I was offered a place for a probationary year -1 was overjoyed.

Meeting point Poole crew meet every Thursday night at the boathouse. Strangely, my first meeting took me back to my first night at Brownies. Not that the banter of strapping lifeboatmen was anything like that of 11 -year-old girls, but the feeling of being an outsider was just the same.

'How can I ever fit in and convince these blokes that I'm serious?' I wondered. As it turned out, there are five other women on the crew and everybody went out of their way to make me feet welcome. I now see crew members more frequently than I do some of my friends, and the socials are fantastic.

My first exercise I arrived to the scramble of kitting up. I threw on some spare kit and ran to the lifeboat, lifejacket toggles dangling at my feet. It was blowing a blizzard when I boarded for the night time air-sea rescue exercise. As predicted, the Arctic weather had finally hit us. No sooner had we slipped the pontoon, hail pelted us. The sky flashed white and I could barely see in front of me. My fingers were numb and I wondered what it would be like on a real shout. 'Can't see a bloody thing down there,' complained the Coxswain as he joined us up on deck. 'Gotta watch out for the boat.' On deck the visibility was no better. Sadly the exercise had to be cancelled as the helicopter was called away on a rescue. That was that then.

Shrink or swim A month or so later I got a shock when I was given a pager. Up until that point, I had coasted along on training exercises and fundraising, without thinking about going to sea for real 'Alison, I've told the Coxswain that if there's a shout you're up to, to let you go,' John said. • 'And there'll be an assessor on Wednesday's exercise to question you about the inshore lifeboat.' So I had a bit of homework to do. I had keys to the boathouse and was able to pop down at lunchtimes and in the evenings to familiarise myself with the equipment.

On the rota At the weekly meeting a list is passed around and we note the times we're not available. The Deputy Launching Authority (DLA) then checks there's enough crew to man both boats. The Poole crew are called out frequently and, in the summer, barely get a break. If you say you're free, then you are. That means no beach, no hiking, or shopping in Bournemouth without checking first. I think I'll find that hard. Those who are available hurry to the station and the Coxswain picks his crew. After midnight the procedure is different: the pager alerts everyone but the DLA phones the crew he wants to go out. 'I could never ignore that call,' said Simon who joined six years ago. 'Even now, I get that adrenaline buzz when I'm woken up in the night and wonder what's out there.' Is that how I'll react when I get the call? Will I be scared? It's the odd moments, like when I pull a body bag out of a pocket in the Atlantic 75 or when I watch a video of an X-boat being sucked under the local chain-ferry, that I'm reminded what it is all about. I can't wait to find out more.

Pager phobia I couldn't sleep for several nights after I got my pager. For someone who has every lunch hour and evening planned for the next month, the hardest thing about being on call is not knowing when it may happen. There's one way to fight a phobia - in at the deep end. I simply had to be paged and get to the station in time.

As soon as I'd done my first shout, I'd be released from my anxiety.

My first shout At last the day arrived. It was a sunny afternoon. I was on my bike and down to the boathouse in a shot - first on the scene.

Having waited so anxiously for so long, my first rescue couldn't have been less spectacular. We pulled a fishing boat off the mud and towed her back to the quay. I got the fisherman's number, but apparently only needed his boat details. 'On the pull, are we?' joked the Coxswain. At least I'm sleeping again now.

We wilt be catching up with Alison again in a future issue of the Lifeboat..