"Just relax", I said, "and let the water support you!"

Of course, such things are usually easier said than done.

Teaching my wife, Ellen, to swim has been fraught with danger - but not for her.

For me.

When I discovered that the university I work at has a swimming pool, I was quite pleased. Swimming is a great way to exercise, because the water reduces the strain on the joints.

Added to that, I just like splashing about in water.

So when I suggested to Ellen that we should go for a dip, she declined. At first, I thought it was because she thought it might be too cold to go swimming, but as the summer heat rolled in, she continued to resist my offers to go and frolic.

Eventually, I asked her what was stopping her, and was surprised to hear, "I can't swim!"

Most Australians learn to swim fairly early on, with school programs teaching it. With the population of Australia mostly clustered around the edge of the continent, going to the beach and swimming in the sea are incredibly popular things to do, so someone who can't swim is fairly uncommon.

That's not the case in China. When I did a quick survey of my students, I found that only a handful had learned to swim. "The beach is too far away, and pools are too expensive - unless you live by a quiet river, you're never going to have the chance to learn," one young lady told me.

Ellen's confession of her lack of aquatic expertise drove me to make a foolish offer - that I would teach her to swim.

If I'd foreseen the problems that were to come, I would probably have never set foot in the pool.

At this point, I must point out that the pool at the university isn't some dinky backyard job, but a full Olympic-sized one, complete with lane ropes and starting blocks. It wouldn't be my first choice of a teaching venue, but beggars can't be choosers when facilities are limited.

Luckily, someone had seen fit to put a false bottom in two of the far side lanes, reducing the depth from 2 meters to 1, so at least Ellen could touch the bottom at all times.

Once we got past the initial hurdle of the water being "too cold", "too scary" and having "a funny smell", I persuaded Ellen to put her arms around my neck, and try to let her legs float out behind her, while I gently towed her along.

That night, I tried to sleep without moving my neck, as Ellen's death grip had almost torn my head from my shoulders. She'd panicked after a small wave had splashed some water up her nose, and nearly drowned the pair of us in the resulting flailing of arms and legs.

I think it was at that point I decided to buy her a large inflatable ring, so that she could float along without clinging to me. From the relative safety of a few feet away, I encouraged her to kick her legs to propel her along "like a frog". Ellen's kicking isn't so much froglike, more like a duck, as her legs move frantically beneath her.

We're looking forward to visiting my parents in Adelaide early in the New Year, and I hope, by then, Ellen will be a little more confident in the water. They're already planning to take us down to the quiet beaches at Robe.

But, just in case, my father's invested in a life jacket for her.