Separation anxiety. I don't know about you, but if someone hurled that phrase in my direction I would associate it with relationships - the kind that goes on between two human beings. How wrong can you be.

Disturbingly, there's such a thing as gadget separation anxiety' and the worst sufferers are teenagers and young people, who, a study found, are addicted' to their phones.

If deprived of them, a study by Australian academics found, they become angst-ridden and stressed.

I admit to having had a mild panic a few times when I've set off in my car for a long journey and realised I didn't have my phone, but I wouldn't go so far as to say I suffer acute feelings of anxiety when I haven't got it with me.

I'm not in love with it, for pity's sake, nor with any gadget - that's probably because the sexiest' gadget in our house is probably the tin opener, and I'm not sad enough to suffer emotional problems when I can't find it (baked beans have ring-pulls now, anyway).

However, I can't really have a good laugh at the expense of those who are in a serious, long-term relationship with such inert objects.

I may not suffer separation anxiety when parted from my mobile, but when I gave it some thought, I realised that there are some non-human things in my life which, do throw me into a state of cold turkey:

  • My car I know it's not very green, and at the risk of being hunted down, tied to a water butt and publicly ridiculed by a gang of eco-warriors, I have to admit I'm severely stressed when my car is off the road. Repairs, MOTs, whatever, it's not just the money, it is not being able to hop into it to collect my daughter from school or do the shopping.

We live out-of-town now, and buses are fine in theory, but in practice they're unreliable and often full of unruly teenagers (usually girls) using the sort of language I reserve for home.

  • The kettle I know, they're cheap enough to buy these days, and you can always boil water on the cooker. But, however short the period of deprivation - we were recently without one for three days as I'd seen one I wanted but the shop had sold out - it's like losing your best friend.

In fact, the kettle really IS my best friend, offering cups of comfort a dozen or so times a day. And, of course, being without tea bags is just as painful, as the two are inextricably linked.

  • The TV guide How tragic is that? My life is so empty that the highlights are contained within the week's TV guide.

It's on the window sill, ready for inspection when I sit down to watch TV at around 8.30pm.

Only there are occasions when the children have moved it, and I sit down only to find it is missing.

My husband will happily flick channels and take pot luck, but I like to plan my evening's viewing and, after frantically searching for an hour while my dinner goes cold, I sit down in a foul mood, totally stressed, with only the 10 o'clock news to look forward to.

Now that I've identified them publicly, what's the betting that on Christmas Eve my car will break down, the kettle will blow up and the cat will mistake the TV guide for its litter tray.