Music has no part in my life. I simply can't recall when I last deliberately listened to a recording or a live performance. I think it must be at least two years ago, when we went to hear students of the Royal College play in the National Gallery.

But I am not at all indifferent to the matter. Indeed, it would be more accurate to say that I exclude music from my life. When websites play things at me I turn the sound off; I don't own a radio; there is no CD player in the house; the car has both, or just a radio (I've never looked), but I don't use the sound system in any case; if a neighbour plays something, anything, I close the window.

It's not that I'm uninterested in music; in fact it fascinates me and my response to all varieties is strong. I just don't like it, and can't see any reason to blot out the natural, unstructured and uncoordinated background noise that surrounds us, for instance the occasional passing car, the hiss and clunk of central heating, footfalls on the pavement, the white drone of a plane, and the irregular rhythm of leaves pulsing in the wind. Of course I admit that these are not fascinating in themselves, but I don't object to them. Music, on the other hand, seems very thin, intrusive, and distracting, like a nagging human voice, and it makes me long for silence.

There must be other people like this, but we don't appear to be common.