I remember it well - it was the summer of 2010 and I was working in a pawn shop selling off lesser phone models to idiots who wanted to buy something with a cute brand model in exchange for their perfectly functioning devices.

But ah, I shouldn't insult all the customers in the shop, for it was one of them who brought us together. The customer was a pretty girl in her early twenties who had clearly just broken up with her boyfriend and was bitterly pawning off all his stuff. Amongst the assorted collection of rings, a Sony Vaio, and an iPhone 3, there glistened a dark subtle beauty shining a like a jewel in her scrappy little box.

I picked her up, traced the little dings along her shell with my finger, and told the girl that I would take it off her hands for a £150. My boss gave me an odd look, but I assured him that I would be paying out of my own pocket and the matter was settled.

She taught me much; the uses of bash, the summer I learned Python, the long commutes to work on the tube where I learned the beginnings of C++, and how to properly write OO programs, and over the years I learned the ins and outs of linux. I've opened her up a few times and seen how she works, taking pride in reassembling her piece-by-piece, even if I didn't fully understand all her components.

She held my hand the entire way, yet I took her for granted: letting her soak in the rain a few times because I was too lazy to place her in a dry pocket; dropping her numerous times on the ground; not getting her a screen protector; leaving her on for weeks at a time. She was with me through more bike accidents than I care to recount, each time merely allowing herself to be dusted off without complaint of injury, or bearing with the indignity of having her LCD ribbon patched up with a piece of tape.

Over the course of years these little incidents no doubt took their toll on her, and finally she went mute earlier this week after the car flipped on the A75 outside St. Flour. I was too busy checking that I was alive to even think about her, but once I found her - she was in pieces and her screen was blank.

She still ticks, I'm 100% convinced that she can walk and talk, but alas she is blind - and every method of communicating with her has so far been in vain (wifi is disabled on boot by default, and the USB port broke off long ago).

I held a small ceremony earlier today, and finally placed her to rest in my broken digital watch drawer where she can hopefully not feel lonely. She's got a full battery that should last her a week or so until the final end.

I am at a loss without her

I've looked around, and the only thing that can come close is the Jolla model, and though I backed 20 Euros for TOHKBD, there's a slim chance that I'll get anything remotely like my N900 until next year.