I am about to join the nine million UK residents who have some form of hearing problem. And the thought is bringing me out in hives.

Claire Abbey, branch manager of Sunderland Amplifon, part of the multinational company which specialises in hearing systems, is going to hand me a pair of small plastic ear defenders.

When I'm wearing them my hearing ability will drop by 30 per cent and I'll be heading into Sunderland city centre to see what it's like to get by without my hearing.

As I sit in the Amplifon offices in a state of controlled panic and a pool of perspiration, Claire runs me through a series of hearing tests.

She confirms that my ears are in good nick and soon I'm wiggling the defenders into place. Then Claire, Amplifon district manager Mervyn Molloy and myself wander into town to see if I can manage some simple daily tasks.

I'm told the last journalist who tried this nearly got run over by a car so it's fair to say I'm not very confident (and that I'm taking extra care to cross the road.)

Though I can still hear, everything feels very muffled and I have to concentrate hard to catch what Claire and Mervyn are telling me.

To get me in the spirit of things I ask a newsagents for directions, a bus driver for timetable advice and a market holder about prescription sunglasses.

Usually I can talk to anyone and I don't think twice about it but quite quickly I feel a strange sort of shyness creeping over me.

I'm frowning as I speak to the bus driver because I'm trying to catch what he's saying – I must come across as much more grumpy than usual.

I ask a sales assistant in HMV for some advice about buying an iPod. To my relief he is very helpful, speaks clearly and faces me throughout.

I'm still straining to hear what he's saying and actually retain the information and, without realising it, I'm leaning alarmingly close to him.

Once I notice myself doing it I feel really self-conscious, and quickly back away.

Next up is the bank. Mervyn points out that many people with hearing difficulties find it difficult to hear what's being said through the bullet-proof glass.

Thankfully I'm only asking for a balance receipt but if I were asking for something more complicated I'd be stuffed – I honestly can't hear a word the cashier is saying.

Ordering coffee is also a bit of an ordeal because I can't really hear what the waitress is saying above the banging and hissing of the machines.

I want to explain that I couldn't give a monkey's about chocolate sprinkles – I just want a coffee so I can slink into the corner and rest my head for a second.

At this point I've had a hearing loss for less than two hours and I'm sick of it – I haven't done anything I wouldn't do normally but I feel completely exhausted.

Having Claire and Mervyn with me is helping me manage, which feels strange as I'm normally very independent.

When my companions start conversations I try my best to respond but at times during the afternoon I just can't be bothered – everything takes that extra effort.

I had no clue how tiring and nerve-wracking it would feel doing day-to-day tasks with a hearing impediment.

The various strangers I spoke to that afternoon were all lovely which helped – but I wonder what it would be like to try and get something done if staff are busy or having an off day.

I'm left with a totally new perspective – I've always taken my hearing for granted but when I took my ear defenders out I felt a real wave of gratitude.

There's also a realisation that I could not do my job without good hearing because so much of it depends on listening to people and being able to absorb what someone is saying.

I'd never thought about it before, but good hearing is now at the top of my "must-have" list.

Read more in today's Echo