Good news! Radio listening figures are up, as we all find new ways to listen to the wireless with digital technology the unlikely saviour of this comfortably old-fashioned medium.
That podcasts and the mobiles and listen again features are helping this resurgence is reassuring - if only because it makes radio diehards sound (for once) as though they might be the kind of dynamic early-adopters, rather than a) music geeks, b) boring middle-class parents, or c) people so dull they can't decide which Westlife album to put on, so plump instead for an annoyingly upbeat DJ to choose for them.
As a speech radio fan, people automatically assume I fall into the category b, which is unfortunate, since I'm 28, childfree, and don't ever intend to send an outraged/super-smug listener email to the Today programme. No wonder my boyfriend was embarrassed for me last time he caught me listening to You and Yours.
I have tried other talky stations of course. But 5 Live? That's just male presenters shouting half the time, and listeners shouting the rest of the time. Oneword? A bit uninspiring. Radio7? Radio 4 in a different order, with programmes from about 90 years ago thrown in. What we really need is a speech radio station of Radio 4 quality for people who like talking, don't like phone-ins, and are, there's no delicate way to put this, not heading towards retirement.
Because much as I enjoy tales of Lynda Snell's llamas, a soap I could actually talk about with friends, rather than just my mum, would be great. And maybe some more comedy - even featuring the occasional new comedian. Just anything, in fact, that doesn't make me seem like a total weirdo for listening to it.
I have tried to change my listening habits. For a while, Lauren Laverne cheered me up on Xfm. Victoria Derbyshire made things bearable on 5 Live. I still listen to the podcast of Russell Brand's Radio 2 show. But I seem unable to break that pure speech-radio addiction. I worry this may be a dangerous thing.
Take my grandad's late, great cockatiels, George and Fred, for example. Every day, as my grandad set off for work, he'd pop on Radio 4 for them, so they could tweet along to Desert Island Discs until his return. Then one day, there was a power surge. The radio blew up. Radio 4 fell silent. Both birds died of shock.
I sometimes worry that the same thing might happen to me. That Eddie Mair might be cut off mid-sentence, and me with him. Dead at 28 from an addiction to speech radio. That wouldn't just be an odd way to die - it would be bloody embarrassing.
