WHEN I look at my emails I always promise myself a quick five-minute check but I get sucked in to an hour of reading, replying and ruminating.

I’m worse with my mobile. The anxiety of text messages I’ve not replied to weighs me down with guilt.

So why on earth would I want to join Facebook? When did we become so contactable? I blame Mr Bell – the telephone started all this craziness.

My Facebook fury started last week when I missed a barbecue.

Why? Was it bad time management? Double-booking? Forgetting?

If I’m being honest it could have been all of the above. But it wasn’t. It was because the invite came out via Facebook.

“Sorry Kath. I forgot you weren’t on it. You really ought to be. It’s so handy.”

I’ve also missed news of babies being born, announcements of engagements and wedding snaps.

(So there are advantages too. No more do I have to wade through hundreds of photos, being told off for sticky fingers and spilt drinks. “Of course I’ll look online!”) I don’t want to get in touch with people from the past; I want to forget yesteryear’s misdemeanours and enjoy my present, thank you very much.

And I’ve got enough nice real friends, without virtual faceless Facebook ones.

The idea of being asked to be friends with random people and the unpleasantness of having to turn them down – or worse and more likely, politely welcoming them – fills me with apprehension.

Who really wants the bully from school “poking” them again?

And what about those stalker-nutters you might inadvertently make your friends, reading everything they can about you? Could happen.

What’s wrong with the real world? I want my mates to be in front of me, not inside my computer.

I want to see them, touch them, smell them (as long as they’re wearing deodorant).

Most of all, I don’t want something else I will have to check neurotically.

I’m not sure what sort of Facebooker I’d be. Would I suffer quiet heartbreak when no one has prodded me for three days?

Would I collect friends in my frantic like-me-itus way? Would I be distraught if potential friends rejected me?

I have one friend who doesn’t have a mobile. I envy him, I’m proud of him – but ultimately it is a bit of a pain organising anything with him.

Is this how people feel about me? Am I losing touch? Am I the freakish friend?

I can retune the digi-box, I can reset the central heating, I am not a Luddite. And I’m not being antisocial – I’m already chattable to in a variety of ways.

So a message to my “friends”: next time you have a barbecue, please phone, email or text me.

Better still, just ask me when you see me.