folio

The trouble with Microsoft is they cannot be trusted with their own products. Time and again they abandon them, hanging customers who have invested in (very) expensive hardware or a particular software ecosystem out to dry.

As a bit of a nerd with a knack for breathing new life into old tech, I must admit that the original Surface Duo piques my interest, now that it can be had on eBay for a nearly-affordable price tag. I was one of those few oddballs who saw real potential in that clamshell design for multitasking and productivity on the go.

But will I bite the bullet and purchase what to me seems like the next best thing to the Oppo Find N2 fold, unavailable outside China? Well, in the end, no, because as I stated at the start, Microsoft cannot be trusted with its own products. In the past few months, the world’s most valuable company has laid off 10,000 staff, presumably so it can invest billions more in AI. The result: products like this left hanging.

After receiving a significant Android update last autumn, software development seems to have drawn to a halt. It has received one security update, but no bug fixes. Rumour has it this is because the bean counters purged those working on the product, with the engineers that remained being moved on to support Android development in its more lucrative Teams division.

So, basically, they’ve done what they did to Windows Phone, all over again, leaving their customers high and dry. The latter being a travesty, for as an alternative mobile platform, it was ahead of its time. Theirs was the promise of a smartphone that wouldn’t take over your life: a productivity device that would provide only the functionality you really needed. Only, the finance and market-share analysts at the top didn’t get that.

That’s the reason you can pick up a high-end business phone — dual-sim, removable battery, excellent camera, slim design — for ten quid today. For me, it’s the perfect anti-smartphone. While a true dumb phone with a numeric keypad is a step too far for some of us, this will capably bridge that gap. I picked up a pair during lockdown, so the kids could take pictures of their schoolwork and upload it straight to OneDrive for marking.

But a £10 phone is not the same as an £350 device. Sure, that’s a thousand off the asking price, but that’s not really the point. Some brave souls, anticipating the demise of Microsoft’s foray into Android optimisation, have ported Windows 11 to run on that diminutive device with some success. I’m not immune to such tinkering myself, having breathed new life into a Surface Pro 3 with an unsupported install of the same.

In the end, however, I must resist that irrational urge to invest in some end-of-life tech, thinking it might just suit me. For sure, it probably would for a few weeks, or possibly months. But eventually it will inevitably just become a source of frustration, as apps we rely on start announcing they will no longer support devices without a particular security patch.

The better bet would be to stick with the mobile market leaders, safe in the knowledge that you’ll continue to get updates and support for the foreseeable future. A refurbished phone, with full warranty, from a less obscure mobile manufacturer, will in the end win the day. Probably it will be last year’s Samsung flagship, graded “good” by the reseller, meaning it has an infinitesimal scuff you can’t see which requires them to give you an £800 discount.

Yet the only reason I’m pondering it at all is because our daughter has her eye on my old phone as her first smartphone. The Windows Phone doesn’t count, because it can’t run WhatsApp or What3words, which her teacher has told her is essential for her DofE expedition. “Hurry up and get a Z Flip 4,” she tells me daily, urging me to make up my mind. But I share none of her urgency, regardless of the impending birthday.

The truth is, life is getting expensive these days. So expensive that I’ve become adept at refurbishing and repairing things myself. My house is filled with second-hand furniture: tables and chairs and cupboards and shelves that meant something to my parents or grandparents once, which we would have felt bad about turning down. Eventually I had to refurbish them to make them our own. It goes on like this.

If I am asked how it is that we have managed to achieve a debt-free existence, I would partly attribute it to this mentality. We rarely take ownership of anything new, choosing instead to live within our means. My first car, bought with all of my savings since childhood, was a Ford Fiesta. My second, a decade into marriage, was a Toyota Yaris. My current vehicle is my first really nice car, but it’s still second-hand.

We own our house because we chose to buy a rundown shell in a poorer neighbour in a poorer town, refurbishing only as we could afford it. A rundown property at possession without double-glazing or central heating. While we paid off our debts, we lived with its rotting window frames, freezing through the cold winters. Over the past fifteen years we have gradually made it our own, upgrading aspects in line with our capabilities.

In life, it turns out, we’re refurbishers, making new what once was old. And so it is the same with the tech in our lives. I aim for longevity in the gadgetry which becomes our own. In the world of mobile tech, this calls for sensible decision-making. You don’t go buying some novel device on its way out — not unless it’s going for a tenner. Nope, you must resist that irrational urge within that once had you yearning for a netbook! Listen to the voice of reason.