By Emma Clayton

AT what stage in life do you no longer take a deep breath before opening an official-looking envelope?

Will I forever find myself wincing at correspondence from a bank or utility company, reading the first line with a grimace and one eye closed?

Maybe it's a throwback to my student days, when I got regular letters from the bank charging me for exceeding overdraft limits. It wasn't so much the financial penalty, it was the way they began with the words: "I am disappointed to note." I felt I'd let them down personally - like I used to feel when a likeable teacher scolded me at school.

While I no longer feel a pang of guilt with official letters, I still occasionally feel like I'm being told off. A recent letter from TV Licensing - a department I now think of as peopled by faceless pen-pushing pedants in pinstripe suits, which I'm pretty sure isn't the image the BBC is striving for in 2016 - left me feeling like a shame-faced nine-year-old, head bowed, staring hard at my shoes while a tut-tutting grown-up wagged a finger at me.

And, to appear even more like a nine-year-old, it wasn't even my fault!

York Press:

A night in with the telly: but an experience with TV licensing pushed the wrong buttons for columnist Emma

I contacted TV Licensing after my father's death last year, informing them that his house no longer contained a television. Last month they wrote enquiring about the property's status, so I left the details online. A week or so later came another letter, informing me that since I "hadn't responded to their previous correspondence" they'd "started investigations", warning I faced a court appearance and £1,000 fine.

Since I'd already contacted their website, I won't repeat what I called the TV Licensing pinstripe suit team - let's just say I resented their accusation, horribly patronising tone and rather sinister warning that I was under investigation.

When I rang to explain that: a) the house was unoccupied, with no TV, and b) I'd already supplied this information, all I got was a recorded human voice, so I left my details - again - and even wrote to them, re-confirming what I'd re-confirmed.

Yesterday came another letter, acknowledging, finally, that their records have been updated. I'm told to "please be aware" that a Visiting Officer may call to "verify the situation", then an entire paragraph warns that "using television equipment...without a valid TV licence is illegal".

Memo to TV Licensing: I'm not nine. I know what a TV licence is for; I've been paying for one for 20 years, despite giving up on EastEnders at least 15 years ago. And since you've been hounding me, wrongly, an apology would've been appreciated.

Instead, I'm bracing myself for a knock on the door from the shadowy Visiting Officer. A humourless, grey soul, scribbling notes, while standing in the space where my dad's telly used to be.