Last Friday, about an hour before I was due to leave the house for a busy weekend away working, my phone died.
And it wasn’t the battery.
Repeating Apple logo - restore screen. Bollocks.
I had to plug it in, try and reboot, not no avail through iTunes.
It was getting late and I had to go.
Sweating with a throbbing headache, rushing about like a clumsy dickhead, stuffing the things I might need to fix my phone hastily in to my bag.
That night before the filming job I had to buy some (cheap) software to restart it. Worth a punt. It was late and I was very tired after a long drive.
For fucks sake.
There’s never a good time for a phone to stop functioning, but this really wasn’t the ideal time.
Luckily I had a spare iPhone SE, which took my SIM and I could send some adhoc messages in between sweating profusely and punching myself.
My data was unrecoverable. It required a factory reset.
Oh and did I mention I never backed up my phone?
Yeah that.
Photos? Gone.
Contacts? Gone
Apps? Gone
Notes? Gone
Audio recordings? Gone.
Drunk text messages? Gone
I stay clear of iCloud generally, so there wasn’t even a backup on there. The whole thing was (and still is) a mess.
I missed having the 
Anyway, I know I lost everything on my phone.
I’ve take away the realisation that I didn’t really need all that crap on my phone.
We tend to get so attached to our phones.
So sentimental about small things like last conversations.
All our messages. Our notes. Our apps. Our layouts. Our routines. Our old contacts.
Why do we keep that shit anyway?
Sometimes it’s a blessing in disguise to have it all taken away. I like how the decision was made FOR me.
I miss the photos, sure - but I have access to those in various places like WhatsApp and Messenger etc
But I’m at peace with losing everything.
Plus, I’ve treated myself to a new phone, delivered tomorrow.
Will I back this one up? Who knows.
Cheers for reading.
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