Swordplay that cuts through fat

When a very hip New York photographer told me recently that he and his wife had taken up fencing, I have to admit I was surprised. In my limited experience, fencing is a sport with unnecessarily complicated rules, played in bizarre headgear by public schoolboys who want to get out of rugby training - definitely not an appropriate pursuit for an edgy New York fashion photographer.

"Everyone's at it in New York," he assured me. "You can't move for people in fencing kit waving èpèes about. You should give it a go." I was tempted.

Although I had no idea what an èpèe was (it turns out to be the weapon), I'm all for anything that will give me something to talk about when my friends start banging on about the delights of yoga. Also, I seem to remember someone once told me that fencing burned more calories per pound of body weight than swimming or playing badminton.

And so I found myself in the fencing salle (that's fencing-speak for room) of St Paul's boys' school with Keith Smith, president of the British Fencing Association. According to Smith, Londoners have embraced fencing with almost the same enthusiasm as their American cousins. At the last count there were around 6,500 registered fencers in the UK (up 10 per cent on last year) and Smith estimates there may be an additional 14,000 who fence without registering with the governing body.

His current mission is to widen the appeal of the sport and rid it of its starchy, public-school image. "It's a fantastic city sport because it takes up so little room," he enthuses. "Then there's the gender equality of it. Most of the women at our club train against the men, so it's a very equal sport, and female fencers are also very, very good at the cerebral element."

Georgina Usher, the current British women's èpèe champion, agrees. "It's nice to play an aggressive sport where you train against men," she says. "It's also not something you have to start early. I know people in the World Championships team who didn't start fencing until they were at university. Oh, and it gives you a nice toned bottom."

But before I can start working on my cerebral skills or my toned bottom, I have to get kitted out. In order to fence at any level, you need the basic kit which includes a jacket, glove, mask and, for women, a protective breast plate. Keith Smith insists that, contrary to popular belief, fencing isn't an expensive sport and reckons you can get started for around £100.

Once dressed, I'm ready for my first lesson. I have to say that strapped into a heavy jacket and wearing a breastplate that makes me feel like a pantomime dame, I'm not convinced that I'm going to be at my most agile. Add the wire mask, which creates a strange strobing effect if I move my head quickly, and I don't think I could make a cup of tea, let alone wield a weapon gracefully. Luckily my first instruction is to assume the en garde position, which doesn't involve moving. With feet at 90 degrees to each other and weight equally distributed over legs at shoulder width, I'm ready to do battle.

Fencing, I'm told, is as much about poise as it is about aggression, and learning to stand properly is crucial if you want to progress. After about five minutes and a bit of wobbling about, I think I've got the standing thing sorted out. Now it's time to move. Using a heel-toe combination, I'm taught to move forwards and backwards and, when the occasion demands it, lunge forward to attack my opponent. On paper this may all sound rather simple, but you have to take my word for it that minimal exertion in full fencing costume is tiring and extremely hot.

Now it's time to introduce me to my weapon of choice - the èpèe. Just to be clear on this business of weapons, there are three types - a foil, an èpèe and a sabre. Most beginners are taught èpèe initially as it has the simplest rules. My instructor points out the pressure sensor at the èpèe's tip which, in competition, would be rigged to a buzzer system to indicate who has scored a hit. He claims the sensor is activated when the amount of pressure needed to penetrate a body is applied. I assume he's joking. Weapon in hand (looking like a cross between a pantomime dame and Touche Turtle) I get down to the business of actually fencing. After half an hour I can parry (a circular movement), thrust and recover with confidence. By way of constructive criticism, my instructor tells me I have a tendency to stand still when attacked, which, as he reasonably points out, is a bad idea. He thinks it might help if I imagine the èpèe is a real sword. I'm not convinced. I think my problem is that it already looks too like a real sword and I would be less intimidated and therefore more likely to get involved if I imagined it was something less brutal, like a banana.

But there's no denying that I'm a lot more attracted to fencing after my first lesson than I ever anticipated. A 30-minute session has made me feel as though I've spent at least an hour in the gym and I've even got over the claustrophobic effect of the mask. I can't say that I'm particularly clear on the rules yet (other than you have to hit the other person more times than they hit you) but I'm getting there. And for all those trendy New Yorkers who think they hold the monopoly on fencing, I've got two words: En garde!"

For details of fencing clubs visit www.britishfencing.com