If it's true that we'll soon be doing all our shopping through the Internet, then I may as well turn my front room into a parcel depot now.

Most of my neighbours are already devotees of mail order. Every day I'm asked by delivery people to mind a package for "the lady at number 93" or whoever's turn it happens to be. They've sussed me out as the saddo indoors, who can be relied upon to babysit someone else's precious bundle - or two. It won't be long before I'll have to get rid of our furniture and books and start labelling all the shelves with postcodes.

It's not that I mind the responsibility. In fact, I've built up quite a rapport with one delivery man, who likes it when I cheekily squeeze his Jiffybags. And at least I get to see my gallivanting neighbours, who are usually dashing twixt job and gym when they call by to pick up their sometimes squishy, sometimes boxy, sometimes clunky and rattling (and probably already broken) parcel.

It's just that, well, to tell the truth, I cannot see the attraction in this method of shopping. I'm someone who has rarely bought anything from a catalogue or a website because I like to sniff and prod and shake whatever takes my fancy before I part with my cash. I know with mail order you can get a refund if you've made a mistake or you really don't like that pink plastic towel rail after all. But it's still a bit of a waste of time, isn't it? Whatever you choose is never going to look as nice on you or in your house as it does in the photo. And, as happens when you meet film stars or people off the telly, you're bound to be disappointed by how small and insignificant your object of desire really is once you've removed the bubblewrap.

Besides, I like going shopping because it gets me out of the house. If I were denied this, when would I ever feel the warmth of fluorescent lighting on my face? Or be lulled into beautiful thoughts by piped music? Or connect with humanity every time a shop assistant asks: "Do you want cash back?"

Okay, so it's a dubious pleasure. But one that I feel is worth maintaining as I now have evidence that will cause any internet shopper to stop dead in their clicks.

Last week some friends of mine had a disaster when cruising down the virtual aisles of a major supermarket that has an online service. The wife said, "get eight bananas", so the husband clicked on something and entered a number.

When the food was delivered, they discovered they'd mistakenly ordered eight pounds of bananas - all very ripe, all saying, "eat me now".

If they'd been trundling around the actual store instead of the virtual one, there's no way they would have made this error. Even if they had, someone else would have pointed out that their trolley was overlaiden with exotic fruit - or would have started making monkey-like gestures.

The point is, shopping is a social activity. Do it in isolation and you go bananas.

Converted for the new archive on 30 June 2000. Some images and formatting may have been lost in the conversion.