Quickie divorces have arrived in the UK – a development that is bound to elicit howls of protest from the family-values gang, but not from me. As of this month, couples in Britain are able to divorce online for £65, beginning a process that takes only 16 weeks.

As a veteran of the quickie divorce myself, I think it’s a fantastic idea. It took a week for me to get out of my failing marriage. The process was neither messy nor expensive. All it took was a credit card and a fax.

Tom and I met in graduate school. We were classmates and drinking buddies, and while I liked him a lot, there was no spark between us. However, as the months wore on, we became best friends. We were always together, working and playing, and of course the attraction began to grow.

Eventually we “did the deed”, which, to be frank, was more of a drunken fumble. But we had such fun together, and had so much in common. We both had lived in Africa, had close Roman Catholic families, and we both liked to drink – a lot. Tom’s good humour and kindness to me outweighed the lack of fireworks in the bedroom.

When we graduated we moved to New York, where Tom was working for an American investment bank, and he proposed. It seemed very natural: we were living together, we were Catholic, we loved each other; everyone expected us to marry. My parents organised and paid for the wedding, and I wore my mother’s wedding dress. After the reception, we had a party in our suite and proceeded to get horribly drunk. Let’s just say that it’s a good thing we weren’t required to consummate the marriage that night.

Soon after we wed, Tom was transferred overseas by his bank; I quit my job and went with him. He was working 16 hours a day at the bank and we had a very active social life. We threw fantastic parties and were very popular. We had lots of fun. We just lacked that necessary tension that translates as lust.

After a couple of years of near-celibacy, I became frustrated and depressed. I went to a therapist. I got sick and could barely eat. I lost 2st (13kg). Finally we went on a luxury cruise in the Caribbean for our fourth anniversary, during which we intended to try to get back on track and relax. I clearly remember the pivotal moment, as he was leaving the bedroom – we had a balcony, the sun was shining on the waves and the sea was rushing by. I said: “Don’t you want to talk about this?” He turned and said: “Look. We can get a divorce when we get back. But right now I just want to enjoy my cruise.” And off he went to the bar. I briefly considered throwing myself overboard, but decided it wasn’t worth it.

So on our return, we agreed that we just couldn’t spend the rest of our lives together. I moved out to a flat near by. We saw each other socially, and I went “home” to walk our dog every day at lunch-time, the way I always had. But when we had been separated for more than a year, Tom got a transfer to London and we decided that we had to face the music and get divorced. But how?

We saw a small advertisement in the International Herald Tribune, “Divorce in one day. No travel”, with a US phone number. We called, and found it was a travel agency, something called Fresh Pond Travel. Apparently it had seen a niche in the travel market and made it its own: divorce package holidays to the Caribbean! It sent us the packet of information in the post – all we had to do was fill in the form, stating that we mutually agreed that we wished to dissolve our marriage, sign it and send it back, paying $600 (£302) on our American Express card. So off went our divorce application to Fresh Pond Travel in Marlboro, Massachusetts.

This was in the mid1990s, when nobody used the internet. Now, of course, Fresh Pond has a website (divorce-fast.com) and its service is so popular that it costs three times what it did in 1995.

After receiving our forms, Fresh Pond sent the information to its rep office in the Dominican Republic, which put together a legal decree of divorce in Spanish and walked the document to the court, which duly stamped it with an impressive seal. If both parties agreed mutually and signed it, it was legal and irrevocable.

The US Embassy then certified that the document was indeed a legal document in that country. Fresh Pond did point out that while one party could file for divorce, it would not stand up legally if challenged. We also agreed on our split of assets in a separation agreement, which we had drawn up by a lawyer.

The next week I was at my former marital home, getting ready to take the dog out, when the doorbell rang, and there was the FedEx guy with a packet addressed to both of us. I opened it, not really thinking about what it was, and found that I was a divorcée. We had been legally married for six years.

I had rather mixed emotions at this point – I was at once relieved and saddened, but was also cynically amused by the situation. I counted myself luckier than many of my friends, however. Friends who have gone through prolonged divorce battles with their spouses, mainly over money and children, and since we had neither, I escaped virtually unscathed. I have remained single and am now teetotal; my exhusband has since married a South African 15 years younger.

A speedy divorce may be a modern evil, but it is better than making a bad situation worse by spending years in bitter fighting that costs a fortune and destroys a family.

Divorce is so common these days that people openly speculate at the wedding about how long a marriage will last, and long and happy marriages are viewed with amazement. How much better it would be if a couple could just agree on the financial terms and bring things quietly to a close. How much better if they could get out of their failing marriage as I did, not years later, bruised by the legal process and financially drained by lawyers, but within days at minimal expense.

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