I think I’m stuck in a time warp.

Reading through ‘the top 40 things we don’t do anymore’, I was disturbed to find that I still do most of them.

Only last week I visited my building society to sort out the children’s accounts, yet trips here, or to local banks on business, are rare, with most people making financial transactions on the internet or phone.

Indeed, while I was there, I was urged to do more online, and was issued with a password to allow me to do so. I know I won’t use it, preferring to talk things through with a human being. The way I see it, a computer can’t possibly answer all my questions. It also can’t see me in person, and witness how desperately needy I am, thereby securing a good deal.

I also pay bills at post offices – a habit which seems confined to people aged over 80. Only one of my friends still does this – and she’s 82.

And I pay by cheque. Not everywhere. I don’t go to Asda and stand at the head of the queue fiddling about with my quill pen, phial of ink and chequebook. But I still pay for some things by cheque – school trips and things like that. How else could I pay?

Maybe some people hand over wads of cash to their kids and lock a Securicor case to their wrist before they board the school bus. I don’t know.

It saddened me to see some of the entries on the ‘things we don’t do anymore’ list. Look up something in a dictionary, make photo albums and hand-write letters. I do all these things and get pleasure from them.

We played Scrabble over Christmas, and had a dictionary at hand. We could have checked the words on my daughter’s mobile phone, but this 21st century technology takes longer than flicking through a book.

Board games will probably be included in next year’s list and we’ll be vying for triple word scores on computer screens.

I like writing letters, and love receiving hand-written mail – news seems more real than through e-mailed messages.

Some of the things on the list puzzled me. Bizarrely, people don’t handwash clothing any more. Yet delicate garments still carry a ‘handwash only’ instruction. Maybe everyone sends these to the dry cleaners, and it’s just me, my friend Betty and my mum who still fill bowls with warm soapy water and wring out woollies.

I think I’m inhabiting a bygone age. But let’s face it, computers can crash, power can fail. If a global crisis arises, at least I know how to look someone up in the Yellow Pages or check a map before a car journey. I’ll be the only one not panicking.