The house of the future elicits one of two basic reactions in people; it is either a cornucopia of technological marvels that converts the home into a true Machine for Living, or it's like living inside a gigantic video player with the instruction manual translated from Japanese into English by someone in India who speaks neither language and relied on a pair of phrase books to do the job. 

It's bad enough when you have a black box under the telly that keeps mocking you with a blinking "12:00," but it's positively infuriating when you're trapped in the rain on the solar-powered turntable deck that refuses to cease rotating; forcing you to trot alongside the front door as you desperately try to punch in your override code because the retina scanner refuses to recognise you for the fifth time in a week.

A Victorian terrace house in Crouch End starts to look pretty good after that.

Start the Tour

Tales of Future Past | Ephemeral Isle | Freelance Writing | Radio Plays | Shop