Everyone said it would be easy. Easy-peasy. Easy as pie.

My wife, my teenage kids, my work colleagues. A doddle, they said.

So I’m not really sure where the root of my anxiety about changing my smartphone lay.

I had been avoiding the changeover for months — a classic tactic among the terminally technologically inept.

Sure, the Android phone was five years old, and showing signs of wear and tear. There were scratches and abrasions, the inside of the case was a biological hazard, and it took an extra few seconds to do simple tasks.

But the idea of getting a replacement left me cold. All that hassle!

Then, one evening last week, the screen just went blank. I couldn’t get it back on. And that caused an even bigger anxiety than the fear of getting a new one.

There is even a name for this anxiety — nomophobia (no-mobile-phone phobia, geddit?). It is characterised by feelings of panic and distress, triggered by the fear of being disconnected from people, and around half of people have suffered it at some stage.

I eventually got the phone working again by simply plugging in the charger. But it felt like I had performed CPR on a sickly person, and who knew when the next failure would occur — and whether it would be terminal next time?

Reader — my nomophobia trumped my anxiety about a changeover, which I don’t think even has a scientific name. My teenage son suggested dopeyphobia.

So, I made the call. I would be getting an upgrade.

When the new phone arrived, I set aside an evening this week for the changeover, and my family laughed in my face. A whole evening? Sure, it’s easy.

Now, let me hasten to add, this was a very basic upgrade, in the world of technology.........

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