SWIMMING with a dolphin has suddenly become a possibility for any Tom, Dick or Harry, with one of the creatures apparently having taken up residence off the coast of Dorset.

Understandably, the experts are not keen on hordes of well-meaning, swimsuited animal lovers cavorting about in the waves with the animal, not least because a dolphin can become - what do they call it? - "over-excited" by the close contact, and the whole episode is likely to end in tears.

But I have always fancied the experience (in the strictly platonic sense, of course) and once mentioned the fact to my wife. Bless her, she secretly wrote off to the manager of the Windsor Safari Park: "Dear Sir - My husband is 46 (I was a mere stripling at the time) and a good swimmer. Would it be possible for him to swim with your dolphins?"

I wouldn't want you to think that we always go on like this, one of those families who are given to sudden madcap escapades on a mere whim. "I say, darling, shall we balloon across Kenya for our summer holidays this year, or would you rather walk the coastline of Great Britain?"

In fact, we are a very conservative lot, and any deviation from routine - even a minor one like sitting out in the garden on a warm summer's morning to eat some breakfast - is likely to induce a severe wobble in our family. "No, boys, I don't know WHY your father is sitting out in the garden with his bacon sandwich. It's nothing I've said. Perhaps he's got one of his headaches."

But on this occasion, she really went for it, and without me knowing what she was doing fired off the letter to Windsor. It was a most touching gesture and her idea was that when she got the "yes" letter back, she would pay whatever the whole thing cost and give it to me as a most unusual Christmas present.

I'd seen a couple of Blind Date participants getting up close and personal with dolphins during their getaway together, and it looked like a wonderful experience for the couple, sharing the water with these magnificent creatures, stroking them and swimming with them. It seemed like one of those magic moments when the barriers between us and the animal kingdom are perhaps lowered for a time, and there was genuine cross-contact.

On the other hand, of course, this could be over-romanticised wishful thinking.

For all we know, the highly intelligent dolphins could be squeaking to one another: "Oh damn it! Two more of those smelly humans to be towed around the pool, but we'll have to do it, otherwise there won't be any dead fish for supper. What must we do to get out of here?"

Personally, I found the event most moving, and said so to my wife. I did not see the electric light bulb suddenly illuminate above her head as she stored the bright idea away, but apparently the very next day she found the Windsor address and wrote off.

I was very impressed when I later found out what she had done, and wondered how she would have reacted if I said I really fancied a trip to the West Indies with a busty blonde from Cilla's show the week before.

But sadly, it all came to nothing - the dolphin experience, that is.

The people at Windsor Safari Park wrote back and said that because of their "ongoing breeding programme" with the dolphins, they had to turn down my wife's request and they were terribly sorry etc, etc.

The last thing in the world we would want to do is mess up anyone's ongoing breeding programme. But as I said, I only wanted to swim with them.