A strange, some would say downright bizarre, social experiment has been taking place in the Whitworth house these past few months. This was not a deliberate undertaking, but evolved from the circumstances in which we found ourselves.

When we returned to re-occupy our home in January and co-habit with the builders who had long overstayed their welcome, our television set was in the garage. It remained there, covered in a thickening film of mouldy fuzz, while the builders undertook an heroic effort to make the construction of St Vitus's Cathedral in Prague look like a rush job.

For three and a half months we haven't had a television. For pretty much all my life there has been a TV sitting in the corner of the living room. Whenever I have been in the living room with nothing else to do, or, indeed when I have had plenty to do, I have switched it on for a bit of gormless channel surfing.

Our kids quickly learned to appeal for “ten minutes of TV” several times a day. More often than not we would let them have it. As all parents know, TV is a wonder drug when you need to get ready to go out or want some peace and quiet. But the weird thing is how quickly and easily we have got out of the habit. Somehow, I don't find myself needing to stick them in front of the box and they seem to find other things to do. And as an adult it does liberate time (although, curiously, it doesn't feel like that much time).

Now, it would be wrong to say that we are 100 percent TV free. We have discovered the BBC's iPlayer, the fabulous service accused last week of overloading the internet. Occasionally we have given the kids a recent episode of one of their favourite programmes. But we haven't done it much, and as long as the laptop is kept out of sight they usually forget to ask for it. We also download the odd programme to watch in bed, but haven't yet managed to stay awake for more than 20 minutes.

The discovery of the iPlayer has started me wondering, now that the builders have left and are no longer returning my calls about the door handles they forgot to attach, whether we need to buy a new TV to replace the ancient furry specimen. We had always planned to do so because cutting ourselves off from TV would be bonkers. I enjoy TV and it teaches kids a lot. However gratifying it would be to ban Power Rangers from the home, it would be cruel as they grow older to deny the children the televison references that everyone else in the playground has. Imagine if you had grown up never seeing an episode of Grange Hill. Picture the misery of being known as the kid who wasn't allowed TV. Next stop: home schooling, knee length plaits and a compound on the Texas-Arizona border.

But kids' appetite for the box is insatiable. They will sit, goggle-eyed, watching any old crap if they are allowed to. A bit like me. TV needs to be rationed, for kids and many of the rest of us who possess a will of nylon. The best way to ration it is not to have a set hulking in the corner waiting to be worshipped.

The problem with viewing over the internet, however, is that the quality isn't there if you are watching live stuff. It will come, but it's not quite there yet. By the way, I rang the BBC to ask what would happen to the licence fee if we all ditched our TVs and started watching everything over our computers. Apparently, if you are watching Match of the Day Live on a computer you still need a licence.

My main concern, obviously, is that without a television set I keep having to go to the pub to watch football. I am careful not to mention that this is my main concern in our domestic debates for fear of it convincing my wife that we should never buy a TV. Already we cannot agree on the size of set we should purchase. She wants one so discreet that you won't be able to tell the difference between Cristiano Ronaldo and Ronald McDonald. I want a 42-incher, arguing that if you are going to get one you may as well get one that you can see, and suggesting that it could be hidden in a cupboard so as not to be a constant, tempting presence.

We have reached an impasse. The interesting social experiment may continue a little longer.
damian.whitworth@thetimes.co.uk