Does every little really help?

Rising into the shimmering, artificially-lit environment on a conveyor belt not unlike the famed travelator from 80s TV show Gladiators, the bustle and choice coming into view is an almost Dickensian snapshot of 21st century life.

An ocean of brightly-coloured cardboard and plastic packages is broken only by a long shoreline of checkouts, with shelves stacked as high as cliffs and harried-looking shoppers clinging to their trollies like sailors fighting to stay afloat in choppy waters.

The chorus of regular blips from scores of tills rises and mingles with the cries of agitated children, the clashing of metal baskets and occasional tinny announcements of special offers boomed from a faceless, eternally-cheery Big Brother-esque intercom.

In this strange, humming, unreal light we could be almost anywhere, at any time of day or night, with no clue as to the weather outside this all-encompassing world.

And bizarrely, despite being totally surrounded by food, there is very little smell and even fewer opportunities to touch, squeeze and sample.

Yes, I have entered the sanitised world of the supermarket – in this case the Mecca of my local Tesco Extra in Chesterfield; a store so vast that it has its own coffee shop, travel agents and even a fishy foot spa.

Produce is purified, packaged and pimped to within an inch of its life. Could we be creating a generation of consumers who have no idea that their carrots were once pulled from a field or that their skinless, boned chicken breast was once part of a living bird?

And have we become so used to the draw and convenience of the supermarkets that despite our protestations we would struggle to sustain ourselves without them?

This year I’m going to answer that question by attempting to totally boycott supermarkets.

I here and now vow not to set foot inside any store for the whole of 2013 – nor will I buy my petrol from one of their forecourts or sneakily get my fix online using a home delivery service.

I consider myself to be reasonably clued in to the alternatives – I already have a weekly vegetable box delivered by a local greengrocer, I’m fairly familiar with the small independent vendors in my village and I have easy access to a farm shop.

Nor am I naive, however. I’m ready to admit that I expect to struggle. I expect to reach points of complete bafflement when I realise I have no idea where else to go for a bottle of washing up liquid, a light bulb or a bag of frozen peas. And frustration when I’m desperate for a loaf of bread in the early evening and realise I have no way of getting one until the bakers opens the following morning, unless I make my own.

But surely that’s going to be part of the fun of the challenge?

A quick examination of my shopping habits shows that when it comes to supermarkets I’m a regular offender.

As well as Chesterfield’s huge Tesco Extra I pass a further two large Tesco stores and a Morrisons on my daily commute to work and there’s a small Co-op just around the corner from my house. More often than not I pop in to grab bread, a bottle of wine, or “something for tea” and come out with half a dozen extras as well.

I have Tesco Clubcard, a Sainsbury’s Necter card and a Morrisons Miles card. Subsequently I always get my fuel from a supermarket petrol station and because I commute daily from Chesterfield to Derby I tend to fill up once a week.

I hang my head in shame as I type, but I would estimate that I probably give about £100 of my hard-earned cash to the supermarkets most weeks and I reckon I set foot inside a store at least three times a week. In contrast I imagine I give less than £20 a week to local businesses.

So. Time to change.

Welcome to my year without supermarkets, starting – like all good resolutions – today; New Year’s Day (Which is actually a total cop-out as the house is currently jam-packed with Christmas leftovers and there are no shops open anyway. But at least it’ll make the first day an easy one to tick off).

Does every little really help? Let's find out...