I’d like nothing better than to be able to hear the single that was pitted against Matt Cardle to prevent the X Factor winner topping the charts at Christmas.

Of course, there’s nothing to hear, as the composition – a cover version of John Cage’s 4’33” – is four minutes and 33 seconds of silence.

I wouldn’t be able to appreciate it. With permanent, fairly loud, noise in my left ear – a bit like a constant stream of cars passing on a road – and a little in my right, I can’t experience silence.

As a sufferer of tinnitus, I live in a permanently noisy place. I suppose it’s just as well that I have two constantly bickering children whose quarrels frequently drown out the noise.

It is quite unsettling never having quiet around you, even in the middle of the night. People who can really “hear” silence don’t know how lucky they are – yet these days most people seem to go out of their way to live their lives in a barrel of noise.

Often, when I’m travelling to work on a packed train, I’m the only person who isn’t plugged into something channelling music into their ear canal.

Some people have it on so loud – despite notices in the carriages urging them to “keep personal stereos personal” – that it can easily be heard by others sitting a few feet away. Either that, or they’re nattering away on mobile phones. Call me a doom-monger, but I’m convinced this will have long-term effects on both the ears and brain.

Having noisy ears can make life difficult. I can only use the phone on one side, and in my profession it is vital that you get your facts right. If I carried out an interview using my left ear, a blond man could easily become a blind man or a gate could turn into a goat. Were I a court reporter, I’d definitely need an ear trumpet.

I’m always having to ask people to repeat themselves. I didn’t think I would ever become like some of the elderly people in the village where I grew up, who would tap their ears and shout: “You what?”, “Come again?” Yet here I am, half their age, having to do the same thing.

My family get exasperated. “Why are you asking me that – I’ve told you three times!” my daughter will say.

So although I’d love to “hear” the silence in that CD, I didn’t ask for it Christmas. Although I was a bit anxious when my youngest daughter got the name wrong and asked me whether I’d like “the sound of silence” as a gift. I think I’d rather listen to noises in my ears than Simon and Garfunkel.