It was that very sense of overwhelm. coupled with the suspicion he was also becoming too accessible, that led my mate “Ken” to conduct a full blown digital audit of his life.

But before we go any further into the detail of the said “digital audit”, a little more about Ken – not his real name by the way. That’s just what his mates call him for reasons far too complicated to explain here.

Ken is smart, whip smart, but without being unkind, prone to over-thinking things.  For instance, put a bowl of udon noodles in front of Ken, and rather than simply hoe in, he’ll gaze at the plate, searching for a  pattern which best represents the inter-connectivity of marginalised communities, or the neurological underpinnings of the human brain. He’ll sit silently, prodding and probing with his fork, sometimes for an hour.

And then it’s closing time.  The noodle dish is rarely finished – certainly not while it’s hot.

Ken’s also obsessive compulsive. When he puts his mind to something – look out. One year he took up reading business biographies. There wasn’t a single business bible on the shelves of his local library that he didn’t devour. And memorise. For a while we called him “The Librarian”, but that ceased when he moved onto his next obsession. And his obsession after that. They generally last about a year.

But back to his digital audit. The first thing Ken did was remove himself from the three social media platforms that he deemed were increasingly ruling his life.

The hardest one was LinkedIn – he’d convinced himself that was quite grown up, a tool essential for staying in touch with key developments and movements within the business community.  But more and more, he’d catch  himself delighting in the number of invitations he’d received. Then he check out the people who’d been checking him out. What was it – a business networking tool or a Grade 8 school dance? LinkedIn – gone.

So too Facebook and Instagram. He committed to finding other methods of learning which fabulous holiday destinations  his “friends” had been revelling in over the summer break, what they’d been eating, and how gifted their kids were.  Little Patrick  –  the newly appointed playground captain of Grade 3 – how good!  #kingoftheswing #proud-parents #loveyoutothemoonandbackPaddy.  Yep. He could cope without knowing that.

And then finally, Ken’s  biggest, boldest play. He would remove Safari from his smart phone. No email, no APPS, no maps, no games, no Google, no Siri sticking her nose into everybody’s business. Just good old fashioned dial the number and talk. Text when he had to – his teenage kids for instance. He wasn’t sure they even knew how to dial and talk.

Ken was licking his lips in anticipation of how simple, how pure, his life would soon become. Also what a wonderful example he’d be setting his children. “Look kids, this is how it’s done. You don’t need all that stuff…human connection is what’s important.” He would be a true pioneer.

But then Ken’s life-changing digital audit hit a snag. A serious snag.

Try as he might, he couldn’t work out how to delete Safari from his smart phone. Of all the APPs that could be cursorily discarded with the press of a few buttons and a swipe left, it seemed the Apple search engine was not one of them.  It was like it had been deliberately quarantined.

“There’s got to be a way, Dad,” his eight year-old son assured him. “Why don’t you Google how to do it?”

How about that? Relying on a search engine to get rid of a search engine!

The smirk on the face of his eight year-old son confirmed he hadn’t missed the delicious irony, even if he didn’t know what irony was.

At that point, a lesser man would have recognised the futility of the situation and abandoned his quest for a more simple existence.

But not Ken. He was made of sterner stuff.  “OK let’s go with Doctor Google one last time – but then he’s gone. Out of my life for ever.”

With the guidance of his tech savvy son, Ken successfully navigated his way out of the internet jungle to Safari freedom.

That was four weeks ago, so by my calculation, there’s roughly 11 months to go until Ken ends his purge and returns from cyber outer-space.

At last report, he was still holding up well, a little more OCD in a few areas of his life, but that could be pure coincidence.

I won’t know how he’s really travelling until we share another bowl of noodles.

That said, I haven’t heard from him for a few weeks. I just hope he hasn’t lost his phone. Tracking it without the assistance of the “Find my iPhone” function could be  a little problematic.