Not lost for words but lost without them

Last week was literacy week. And yeah, I know, that's a week ago and it's a boring topic anyway, right? Well, since you're reading this right now and you know how to read then, yes, you're right.

Reading and using words is like breathing, tying our shoelaces and going around to our Mum's (at any age) and helping ourselves to a well-stocked pantry. We take these all for granted even though we'd be totally buggered without them (as I discovered myself a few years back, when Mum suddenly decided to stop stocking the pantry).

To celebrate literacy week, I was invited to talk at the local library about what it might be like living in a world without words.

While my boyfriend might argue there would be nothing sweeter on God's good earth than being in a room with me when I wasn't talking, this concept seemed quite horrific upon reflection.

Words aren't just important to communicate the big things in life - the "I love you" and "Will you marry me?" moments. They're unbelievably helpful even in the most ordinary situations.

Imagine a world without these four simple words: I need the bathroom.

Nothing inspires a baby to embrace speech quite like having a post-pureed vegetable nappy and not being able to do a thing about it except bleat loudly in the hope someone figures it out.

My dog would have killed for the privilege of talking moments before she finally gave up staring wistfully at the door and instead relieved herself all over the carpet right in front of me. In fact, she was nearly killed anyway.

Once when travelling through a small town in Italy without my pocket translator, I found myself led to the local clinic after a fit of gesticulating at my nether regions led the townsfolk to believe I was about to give birth (those travellers' fanny packs have a lot to answer for; all I needed was a toilet).

Words - like a favourite pair of shoes or a faithful old dog - have been with me through every single high and most of the lows of my life.

They held my hand as I optimistically walked down the aisle and said "I do" way back when I still believed in fairy tales, and they had my back three years later when, with a little more wisdom, I said: "I definitely don't."

They've been there in the dark days to tell my friends, "Thanks for being there for me", and they've rolled around on the floor with us when we've had too much wine and someone's said something funny.

It will hardly come as a surprise to the Kiwi bloke to hear that, on average, women use three times more words than them each day, managing to fit in 20,000 to a man's more modest 7000 - most of these some derivatives of "yes dear," "no, dear", "sorry, dear" and "whatever you say, as long as you say it quickly then shut up, dear".

But even though there is definitely a case to be argued that some people simply need to zip it, words have a place in our lives right on top of the pedestal, if only we stopped sometimes to consider it.

If I lost my words it would be, for me, a tragedy.

For you, well, it might just mean you wouldn't know about my battles with insomnia, my struggle to resist chocolate biscuits and make it to the gym by 7am, and, of course, the many and various disasters that seem to plague my not-so-private life.

Not quite so tragic, perhaps?