RECENTLY, my husband and I had a short break in a lovely hotel. I took a few photographs during our two-night stay, but I completely forgot to take a close-up snap of our bare feet.

My family and friends will, I am sure, be very disappointed, because they would no doubt be looking forward to seeing our 10 toes on Facebook.

I’m joking, of course. I would no more likely post photographs of my feet on social media than appear naked in Debenhams’ window. And I would not subject my worst enemy to my husband’s Yeti-like pair.

Yet putting pictures of your feet on Facebook, Instagram or Snapchat is a common form of expression.

Samantha Cameron recently used Instagram to post a photograph of her naked feet alongside David’s to mark their 21st wedding anniversary. The photo - humorously dubbed “toe curling” by one newspaper - was taken in a hotel room during a Spanish holiday.

In pre-internet days, had anyone passed a photograph of their feet among friends they would have been ridiculed. So why do we accept, even celebrate, it, now?

Maybe, like posting holiday photos, there is an element of showing off. These photos all have backdrops of plush hotel rooms, with clothing strewn across fancy armchairs and, in the background, a roll-top bath.

I have yet to see entwined feet pictured in a grotty bedsit, with damp patches and peeling wallpaper.

Feet photos are as baffling to me as those people who post when they’re out for a meal. “Hey look at this lamb chop and two veg I got at the carvery!” Or maybe it’s a close-up snap of a pile of poppadoms or a bowl of olives.

Why do people think anyone would be interested in what they ate for dinner?

I wouldn’t want anyone to see how many calories I consume every day, nor how unimaginative and repetitive my meal choices are.

And unless it is an emergency I don’t think people should use mobile phones at the dinner table, let along take photographs of their plate.

I can accept to some extent, that people want to post holiday photos, and, if they are well-taken, I quite enjoy looking at pictures of places I have not visited, but it is the minutiae of people’s lives that the rest of the world don’t need to see.

I agree with neuroscientist and Oxford don Baroness Susan Greenfield who believes that Facebook and Twitter have created a generation obsessed with themselves, with short attention spans and a childlike desire for constant feedback on their lives.

She says that repeated exposure to social networking sites leaves users with an “identity crisis”, wanting attention in the manner of a toddler saying: “Look at me, mummy.”

At the weekend I saw a woman taking photos of the shopping in her supermarket basket. She saw me watching and told me that she wanted her friends “to see how good I have been” in buying fresh fruit and veg rather than the usual ready meals.

While things like this are light-hearted, it’s unnecessary and surely taking pictures of all and sundry, and captioning them, adds to stress levels.

I may be a “dinosaur” but I will never understand it, and I promise that unless I find myself in bed with Bradley Cooper in New York’s Waldorf Astoria, my feet will never appear on social media.