I’ve always loved the idea of going phone-free for a while, or heading to one of those silent retreats. They sound so amazing in my head: peace, quiet, no distractions. And then I realise how awful I would be without my phone.

One recent experience made that very clear to me. I do find London to be quite full-on, so any chance I get, I go home to Ireland with my kids for some chill time. It’s a place I find super relaxing – everything feels slower and I can really clear my mind, plus my kids love it there, too, so it’s a win-win.

We were at home and my children had just finished swimming. But as I removed my youngest’s puddle jumper swimming vest he bolted and bombed back into the pool unaided. I panicked and jumped straight in after him – fully clothed with my phone in my pocket.

My son was thankfully all fine, but my other family member – my beautiful iPhone – was not. She would have likely survived had she not been flung around and smashed on numerous occasions rendering her no longer waterproof.

As soon as I realised she was broken, the sadness began to creep in, followed by such a bolt of anxiety that I had to take one of my beta blockers to calm me........

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