When it comes to understanding washing instructions for clothes, the UK population is bordering on illiteracy.

A study found that eight out of ten adults have absolutely no idea what the instructions on labels mean, and many – in particular younger people – end up throwing away ruined garments. Twenty-somethings, apparently, discard more than £400million worth of clothes every year.

Now I don’t think this applies only to laundry labels, I think it applies to instructions generally. And I also don’t believe that younger people are more prone to mental blockages when it comes to reading and digesting them. People of all ages are instruction-phobic – your brain is geared up to grasp them, or it isn’t. Mine definitely isn’t, and any member of my family will vouch for that.

My husband is exasperated by what he calls my ‘beyond pathetic’ attempts to install broadband at my home. The fact that I still haven’t got it is because my brain can’t handle the postcard-sized instruction leaflet, listing about five things to do.

Once I get beyond two things, my brain scrambles. I can about manage ‘Take plug A and place in socket B.’ But when it starts getting complicated: ‘Move A to B, hold down A for eight seconds, release B, unplug C,’ I can’t handle it.

We’ve all, even the brightest among us, been flummoxed by instructions at one time or another. Everyone still squirms at the mention of flatpack furniture. I remember years ago when we took delivery of a bunkbed. Even my husband, who is a dab hand with DIY, was cursing. By the time we’d got it up, the children had virtually outgrown it.

Even cooking has me suffering from instruction overload. If a recipe has more than six steps, I don’t attempt it. Just looking at a page of instructions puts me off, no matter how nice the dish.

And I’m in complete awe of anyone who can read knitting patterns. They’re like sheets of hieroglyphics.

My children find my incompetence amusing. I’ve resigned myself to never being able to use our DVD player, and – although I’m loathe to admit it – once or twice I’ve even had problems putting together those little toys in Kinder eggs.

I blame my parents. My brother isn’t like this. Maybe if I’d had Meccano instead of Barbies, I’d be instruction-savvy. I might have ended up working as a design engineer on some super-structure in Dubai.

But back to washing labels. I’m not very hot on these either. Last week I shrank my favourite jacket, although that was pure stupidity. Even I can read and understand the words ‘Dry Clean Only’.