Plug In, Tune Out. Just for a moment, imagine the scene: a line of men and women ranged across a long wooden bar, nursing their pints and chatting amiably to each other as the evening draws to a close.

It's familiar, comforting – this could be a scene from any pub in any city, where local people come to shoot the breeze and wind down after a long day. It's a picture of tranquillity, of community, but most of all, of conversation.

It's that last magic word, more than the pints, the people, the long wooden bar, that makes the scene so special. Conversation. Where once the air was full of it, now there is only silence.

Headphones are stuck into ears as the front door shuts behind us, and remain in throughout our day: walking to work, eating our lunch, in the gym, on the sofa.

We remain in our sound-clouds for as long as our desire and batteries hold out, and more and more of us are choosing to do just that.

According to a recent Ofcom survey, 43% of the UK population own an MP3 player of some description.

Bus stops, train stations, waiting rooms and even hospitals – wherever you go, it's always the same. Heads down, fingers tapping, we while away our time listening to our distraction of choice – and worse, forcing others to do the same.

There's nothing worse than being stuck on a train from Manchester to Norwich with only the sounds of Janet Jackson squawking out from the earphones of the girl in the table seat opposite.

Irrespective of the damage that it's doing to her eardrums, it disturbs the peace and quiet of those around (unless, of course, they're similarly plugged in too). At best it's antisocial; at worst, it's just plain rude.

But it's not just music players which are at fault. The advance of mobile technology means that we have the world at our fingertips, all day, every day. Our phones and tablets are stuffed full of apps which allow you to interact with someone on the other side of the world yet prevent us from communicating with the person next door.

The steady buzz of conversation has been replaced by the tinny rings of notifications, messages, invitations to play games involving sweets, farm animals and busy roads – to name but a few.

Wherever we go, our technology follows, or arguably even leads. We chart our dog walks, tag our locations, take photos of our food, and all the while remain so intent on capturing the moment that we miss what's in front of our noses – unless, of course, it's on a little square screen.

Gone are the days when you could jump on a bus and have a quick chinwag with the person beside you, or exchange familiarities with someone in the queue for a coffee. They're too busy liking a status to notice or even care.

So how to restore the lost art of conversation to society?

It's not all without hope. The social media bubble could eventually burst, prompting a technological backlash as people tire of being constantly over-connected; and for those of you who believe this to be wishful thinking, cast your mind back to the scene at the start of this article.

Why should this image be of such reassurance? Maybe it's because the pub is one of the last bastions of communication between strangers in a world where everyone seems intent on self-imposed isolation. Maybe it's because you can't say everything in less than a set number of characters after all.

Maybe if we all just stopped to listen to each other for a few moments every day, we'd learn to be more tolerant, more accepting, a little bit more human.

Oh, and if you must listen to Janet Jackson on the train back to Norwich, please lower the volume. You never know what you might hear.