I am suffering from the modern affliction called depression. It manifests itself as an empty feeling and a lack of motivation to do anything other than the most routine things. This has inhibited my normal functioning for several weeks.

Recently, my average day entails getting up at 7.00 am and today is no different. I drink my freshly-ground coffee and wonder what I am going to do with the day. The high point comes when I realise that I am experiencing a sense of pleasure from hearing most of my kitchen appliances running at the same time: dishwasher, microwave, washing machine, coffee machine, toaster and of course fridge/ freezer running quietly in the background, 24 hours a day. The radio is on and ex-Cabinet Member David Blunkett is reading extracts from his autobiography. It sounds singularly dull – not helped by his monotonous and self-pitying tone – and I switch to a channel that plays soothing classical music while I check my emails and chat online to my friend S. The phone rings and the caller display informs me that it is yet another person from an Indian call centre trying to flog a mobile phone network that offers great value - only £17.99 a month for as many calls and texts as I want? Hurrah! But I seldom use the mobile that I have and the landline even less. It occurs to me that society has become communication-dependent - constant texting; emails flying round the world; 24-hour news reports and updates – but the art of meaningful communication is dying. I do not answer the call.

Housework done, I go shopping. I do not have a car and that marks me out as an ‘individual’ but with negative connotations: left-of-centre / hippy/ eccentric/ anarchic/ a ‘crustie’. I like walking and I don't feel the need for a car. I worry about the ozone layer and inner-city pollution and every cancer-scare that comes along - and they come along with increased regularity as the 24-hour news programmes look for something to fill up their air time.

It is quiet in the gigantic superstore - mornings are best for shopping - but it is equally quiet during the night, as here they have 24-hour shopping. It never stops. I purchase some fruit and vegetables and some bread mix, ready prepared, for my bread-making machine. I feel guilty if I do not use all my appliances regularly. I also buy the 4-in-1 dishwashing machine tablets - cleanser, salt, rinser and glass sparkler all in one! How amazing. I need some laundry tablets too and as I reach for them it occurs to me that this shopping trip has become not just about food for me but also for my machines - they are my surrogate children who have to be fed and watered too.

I pay for the articles I have bought by putting my plastic credit card into a little slot on the cashier's desk and typing in my four-figure PIN number. As usual, she asks if I want 'Cashback' as though I expect a reward for doing the shopping. I decline her kind offer and with my various purchases loaded into my rucksack (another marker for ‘hippy’) I am off home, listening to music on my mp3 player on the way as it helps me keep a lively pace - it is the 13th Floor Elevators from the 1960s. I seem to lean towards music from the past – the great composers as well as the flawed genius of the likes of Syd Barrett and Roky Erickson from the psychedelic era.This music seems to penetrate the layers of indifference that have gathered around me or, more correctly, have been imposed on me by a society that increasingly seems to sanitise all thought and feeling along with the dishes in the dishwasher.

And here I am, recording the minutiae of my day on the laptop that connects me with the world. Ah, the internet – the apogee of all human communication. We can reach anybody, anywhere at any time of the day or night. We never need to leave our armchair. We have not yet made it to Mars, and perhaps we never shall, but why bother when maybe one day in the future we can just send the little green men an email. Or even better, a text message – ‘c u l8r.’