For two weeks, Lifestyle Editor Hannah Foley swapped her smart phone to a dumb one.

Now, she can’t imagine life without it. 

Sunday – Preparation

It’s the night before I commit to carrying around a fluorescent pink barbie flip phone for the next two weeks. It’s garish, and potentially going to ruin my life. I’m part excited, part full of dread. I fear it’s going to be more of a challenge than I’d like to admit, and I think that the novelty will wear off quickly. 

Once upon a time, this was my dream mobile. At the age of seven, I desperately wanted my mum’s phone: an LG Cookie Style. It was white and orange, touch-screen, and it had Snake. (Emphasis on Snake). It must’ve had a camera, though I don’t remember using it. Phone calls and texts, That’s pretty much it. 

I’ve prepared sending messages to friends bidding them farewell, as if I were going on a long journey, reminding them to text me their phone numbers. It feels dramatic.

I’m wondering if this is actually going to be possible.

Monday – Day One

7:00am

I woke up, sat on the sofa, and realised I felt lost without my phone.

I had a cup of tea and watched the news. For someone who struggles with routine, it’s better than what I get done most mornings.

It seems to take me less time to get ready.

As my eyes become less blurry and my mind foggy, the first thought forms: I’ll have to avoid Tesco or Sainsbury’s. That is, until I find which drawer I’ve stuffed my physical loyalty cards into. I won’t be paying full price because of this damn phone.

Uh oh. My main banking app is Chase, and it’s mobile only. I’ll have to go without it for a fortnight. I’m not sure I actually know the pin for my debit card, so I’ll carry cash in case contactless fails.

9:00am

I get to university and feel like a popular girl with a cool new phone. Everyone wants to see it, wants to know what’s going on, and, most importantly – why the hell I’m doing this. They take pictures, and it feels nostalgic.

6:00pm

Texting is much slower than on a smart phone, so I’ve been opting to call people. It’s efficient and makes me feel more connected than a text. A friend even called me – rare in a day and age where most of us panic about phoning a doctor – to invite me to the pub.

I’m not missing out on plans yet. 

Tuesday – Day Two

7:30am

It’s not the healthiest habit, but I usually grab my phone in the morning to stop me falling back asleep. Especially when it’s dark first thing, the bright light of the screen is a big help.

It’s still possible to scroll on a laptop or Ipad, but I don’t gravitate towards it. Plus, they’re both far too large to fit in my pocket, and so I’m physically restrained from getting stuck in an eternal loop of TikTok after only needing to check the time.

9:00am

I’m putting together a radio programme as part of an assessment. A big part of that is keeping up to date with what’s going on in Norfolk and the wider world – the other part of that is communicating with the rest of the team. Both of which are, undeniably, going to be made difficult by the piece of plastic I’m currently calling a phone.

Update: The phone and I survived, but my shoes didn’t. That’s for another article.

Wednesday – Day Three

6:00pm

Headed to Wetherspoons I had a tough realisation: everyone orders on the app. 

I look carefully over the menu. I’m reminded, and lightly mocked, by friends about the lack of staff that will be serving our table thanks to Miss. Barbie in my pocket. I head up to get my meal and pint – and I even remember my table number.

There’s an older gentleman at the bar who let me order first, rather than jumping in front of me. That sort of polite interaction puts a smile on my face, and suddenly the iPhone absence isn’t so bad.

Once back at the table, I take a lovely sip of my Guinness.

My friends are still waiting for their drinks to be delivered.

9:00pm

I’m usually someone who sends a lot of voice notes. I don’t have that option now, so I decide to leave a voicemail. I must rely on a friend to decline my call, or ignore me entirely, to do so.

She picked up.

It’s good! That’s what you are supposed to do with a phone! But it’s just not common that I give people a quick call to catch up. 

Thursday – Day Four

11:00am

I had to accept my first failure on day four. 

My work email is attached to an authenticator app and not linked to my phone number. 

So, I had no other option to log in but to turn it on quickly with shame and begrudgingly type the two-digit code into my laptop.

1:0 to the smart phone.

5:00pm

I ordered a Chinese takeaway. Chase debit cards don’t have the card number written on them – you can find that information on your phone! In the app! 

So I opted to pay cash, only to realise I was about 55p short. I spent the time between ordering chicken balls and eating them by hunting down the sides of sofa cushions, handbags, and the junk drawer.

Then, I got invited out again. This might be a record for me – four pub trips in four days!

Friday – Day Five

1:30pm

Once again, I missed my phone whilst at work. Purely out of boredom. 

I wanted to scroll mindlessly on my lunch break to make time pass quicker, but instead I decided to read. It did require a bit of a push. I’m more of a doomscroller than a Dickens lover. Goodreads seems to bridge that gap – but that’s but a mere memory at this point in time.

Sunday – Day Seven

5:37pm 

I needed to return some clothes I’d ordered online. At the counter, I entered the email I used to order my parcel. Nothing came up. 

Slowly, I pull out my phone, with a photo of the pixelated QR code. I regret that I didn’t have the time to battle with my printer, and I’m sure that this picture won’t work. I’m not ready for the awkwardness, the judgement, the sighs from people behind me in the queue.

She scans the QR code. 

“Oh my gosh what a cute phone!”

Yeah, that’s right. My cute phone.

Monday – Day Eight

I slept with my phone last night. Bedside table, fully charged. I wouldn’t have dreamt of it on day one – she was my nemesis. But now, she’s fitted nicely into the black hole left when I broke up with my Iphone.

I was afraid of the judgement. It looks like a toy: bright pink and attention grabbing. It has a comical ringtone called Malibu pop. Yet, I have received nothing but compliments.

I expected to hear laughter from a group of teenage boys. Instead, the leader asked me if the phone comes in purple. It was his favourite colour.

Wednesday – Day Ten

My partner picked me up from campus and we attempted to drive to a carvery in Old Catton. Only one problem: his phone was dead. And mine, of course, lacks maps.

I get out my laptop, attempting to load the route on the university wifi. It’s not working. Only the road layout is coming up, so, using my screen like a paper map, I navigate what I hope is the right direction.

We miss a turning, and he’s convinced I’ve sent us the wrong way. 

After today, I do not envy the era of physical maps. These, I’m sure, were designed to cause arguments between parents on long car journeys.

Sunday – Day Fourteen

1:30pm 

We’re heading out for a late brunch. I order something from the menu, without scanning for pictures of it first online. It’s something I’m used to doing as a self-proclaimed foodie; preparation is key.

While we eat, I become frustrated as I watch my friends watch Instagram reels. 

They sit in silence, except for the occasional bout of laughter. They do not lift their phones to physically show each other. Instead, they send each other videos from opposite sides of the table. 

I should add: I’m not frustrated at them. I’m frustrated at these silly, five-second snippets of content for being so sneaky, for being so addictive.

I wish I could make everyone in the world use a Barbie phone for two weeks. Not my one, though. I think I’m starting to like her.

The return to smart phone

9:30am

It’s Tuesday morning.

You might be thinking I got my maths wrong – but no.

I just haven’t turned my iPhone back on.

It almost feels like a chore to look at it. 

4:38pm 

I finally powered up my smart phone. Notifications ping, slow at first. Then they file through rapidly, and I remember the chaos that I’ve been able to avoid the past two weeks. 

Three banking app notifications, one from Too Good to Go trying to sell me the best meal you’ve ever had in a surprise bag, and an endless stream from WhatsApp. 

4:44pm

I have missed a total of 805 messages, including an invitation to go clubbing, messages from my brother while he’s been on holiday and couldn’t send texts, and information from student societies that only communicate through WhatsApp.  

5:03pm

I’ve finally caught up. It all feels alien. I want to run away to the safety of my Barbie phone to avoid slipping into old habits. 

I want to go back.

Later that evening

(I can’t be specific, I’m avoiding my phone)

I’m reflecting on my time spent with the little pink flip phone that’s made me rethink my life for the past two weeks. My interactions over the past two weeks have been much more deliberate. I’ve been forced to sit still without instant entertainment, and think about how I actually want to spend my time.

I’ve watched television, caught up on my favourite series, listened to more radio, and spent time looking at the news – not scrolling past it.

I’ve been more productive with my time, completing more uni work in my evenings and reading on lunch breaks. When I read emails I act on them – instead of checking messages on the go when I can’t realistically respond to them.

I feel more energised, more present, and more willing to go out to see friends. I’ve phoned family members more often. Plans are easier to organise, and communication has been much clearer.

My phone stopped being the first thing I reach for in the morning, and last thing I see at night. 

A few days later 

I can’t say that two weeks on a flip phone has fixed my entire universe, but it’s amazing how quickly we adapt. My iPhone is strange and oversized in my hand. It feels both bulky and slim at the same time. The screen is wide, and I have forgotten that I need to hold it in two hands to type.

I’ve been leaving my flip phone in my bag, not needing it attached to me at every moment. I didn’t think it was possible to do that with my phone before. We were inseparable. A toxic relationship that I, for so long, was convinced was symbiotic. 

This little pink brick has taught me that it was not.

But tomorrow, I’m headed to London. I will need my smart phone to access my digital 16-25 saver railcard, my train tickets, and for maps to make my way around the sprawling city. 

I need to access my banking apps, to pay my rent and bills for this month, to make sure I have money on my card.

I want Spotify. I can use it on my laptop, but it’s not convenient if you want to walk around listening to podcasts or music.

Most importantly, I want my phone to be a tool again – not an extension of my body and brain.

Anytime the online world gets too much, I know I can go phone sober.

For now, my SIM card sits safely behind the tie-dye back of the Barbie phone.

I switch the iPhone off. It can wait until the morning.

Image Credit: Hannah Foley / Emily Pitt-Shaw