A Digital Detox Adventure in the Heart of Devon
It was a Thursday evening, and my family and I had settled in to watch TV together. But just a few minutes into Race Across the World, I noticed that each of us was absorbed in a different screen. My husband, Alex, was on his phone, 14-year-old Ted was playing on his iPad, Coco, who is 12, was texting her friends, and 9-year-old Alfie was engrossed in his Nintendo. If I wasn’t laughing at celebrity death pranks on my laptop, I would have been upset. Everyone was in their own world.
This behavior is completely normal. As a nation, we are addicted to our devices, to varying degrees. According to research from OnePlus, the average Brit loses a weekend a month doomscrolling—96 minutes a day, and for Gen Z, that jumps to 143 minutes. So, I proposed a digital detox, and surprisingly, everyone agreed.
We started with the parameters. Can I listen to music on my phone? No. Can I text my friends? No. Does the screen ban begin in the car? Hell, no. As a journalist, I am perpetually online, and my gen-alpha kids have never known a time without the internet. I have first-hand experience of a primary-age boy showing girls porn on his phone, vile misogyny and bullying on unmonitored WhatsApp groups, and through my work, I’ve spoken to too many bereaved parents left with unanswered questions about social media’s role in their child’s death. I wanted the family to experience a few days offline.
Researchers at Heidelberg University and the University of Cologne recently conducted a study that shows that just 72 hours without a smartphone can significantly alter brain activity. So we packed our bags and headed for the Mole Valley Resort in the heart of Devon. As soon as we arrived, we put all our screens in the safe. But Alfie had a realization: What will happen if the teenager who was feeding our cats needs to get in touch? He quickly came up with a solution: ‘Couldn’t he call us on one of those phones on racks?’ He meant a landline.
The resort offered a wide range of activities. There were outdoor and indoor activities, a gym, pool, walking routes, a games room, a lovely restaurant, and a gorgeous lodge that even welcomed our ridiculous dog. There were play areas and outdoor games, and the shop was far enough away that I could buy a bit of peace by sending the kids off to buy sweets and milkshakes. It didn’t take long for us to forget about tech.
Digital detoxes are having a moment. The fact that there is now a market for phone jails, lockable boxes that house phones because adult willpower is insufficient, is deeply concerning. Fortunately, society is coming around to the addictive qualities of phones, and an increasing number of schools—including my son’s primary—are banning smartphones. The Offline Club in London promotes phone-free cafes and pop-up events, music nights, reading and puzzle parties. Further afield, a host of companies now offer off-grid cabins, Wi-Fi free zones, and silent retreats. An increasing number of families are now exploring screen-free Sundays.
This sounds perfect to me, but I’m not sure 80% of my family would agree. And, I confess, there was one point during our digital detox where I found myself pleading for the sweet release of screens when I desperately wanted to separate myself from the hectic brood to decompress. I felt hot panic when we got back to our lodge after a busy day and realized I couldn’t make it all stop by dolling out devices. Instead, we played charades and the fishbowl game, and, cheesy as it sounds, I laughed so hard my belly ached.
All of us slept well; whether that was because of the lack of blue light or the clear Devon air, I don’t know. But it was nice to chat to Alex in the morning, rather than the top of his head as he habitually reads the news while drinking his coffee. We filled the day with pool, table tennis, and air hockey, did a pub quiz, and explored the local area. As the day wore on, we connected more than we ordinarily do in our busy lives.
And without the lure of his iPad, I found Ted was more aware of what the family needed, taking Alfie to play at the playground, which as a busy teen, he wouldn’t normally be compelled to do. An unexpected benefit of ditching our phones was that the days felt longer. After spending the morning immersing ourselves in activities, we were shocked to learn it wasn’t even lunchtime. You don’t realize how much time can be drained by tech until you don’t have any.
I loved not knowing what the time was, what was happening in the world, or what the weather was going to be. Which is good, because it rained a lot. Alex said he didn’t find himself reaching for my phone out of habit, which he thought he might. But he was mildly frustrated about not being able to search what the capital of Cameroon was, or how much a pigeon weighs. (Yaoundé, 300-500 grams.) And, without being able to Google the rules to Pickleball, the game quickly descended into a ludicrous kick-the-flipflop championship.
Ted, who did a great job despite being a hormonal teen, missed being able to chat to his friends and find escape from his parents and siblings. Coco and Alfie loved it, and I really enjoyed the opportunity to unplug. We packed up, got into the car, and plugged ourselves in. While the others gleefully reached for their devices the minute we drove off, I looked wistfully out the window, wishing we could stay another week.
The first thing I did when I got my phone back was Google the resort’s Christmas availability. Fancy a digital detox? Shacks launches off-grid family retreats with no Wi-Fi, surrounded by nature in Wales and Cheshire—from just £116 per night. Neilson Beach Clubs offers digital-free hotels located at the Val D’Isere ski resorts in Neilson Hotel Spa Le Savoie and Neilson Hotel Ducs de Savoie (£1,150 and £1,439 per person respectively). The Amatara Welleisure™ Resort, a five-star retreat gracing the turquoise shores of Phuket’s Cape Panwa, Thailand, offers a digital detox with pilates and physio. Prices start at 3 nights from £464/suite.