Art: Tomorrow's world today

The Future - you saw it here first. In 1965, the first Tomorrow's World was broadcast. At a time when "science" and "technology" were tainted with menace for a post-war generation, TW succeeded in setting a tone as upbeat and doom-free as Johnny Dankworth's famous theme tune (for which the godfather of British jazz was paid pounds 25).

By the mid-1970s, viewers had witnessed the unveiling of prototypes for fibre optics, computer games, the mobile phone and cashpoints; none of which we expected to be using as casually as an envelope within 15 years.

In 1970, presenter William Woollard told us there existed "all sorts of figures to show the enormous amounts of energy the British housewife uses". He was less concerned with rising fuel consumption than with the drudgery involved in feeding a family. The camera pulled back, Woollard circumnavigated an Alexander Calder-style mobile and revealed "the kitchen of the future".

The central feature was a hexagonal drum, seven feet tall and clad in orange Formica. This revolving Tardis housed an oven and grill, dishwasher, fridge and, er, spice rack. Poised beside the domestic nerve-centre, the chief cook and bottle washer simply had to rotate it in order to use the required appliance, rather than scurrying around the room like Mrs Tiggywinkle.

What the innovators failed to foresee was the rise of the middle-class Luddite. In the late 1990s - amid a growing obsession for reclaimed flooring, old enamel sinks and fittings that would make Cold Comfort Farm seem positively sybaritic - a low-maintenance kitchen may as well have "Room 101" written on the door.

Your average Elle Decoration reader, for example, will go to great lengths to make their kitchen look unfitted - none of that melamine for us, darling. People who have become more dispensable at work don't want to feel similarly redundant at home, and create less impersonal surroundings.

And what of the "housewife" who would inhabit Tomorrow's Kitchen? Raymond Baxter, in one of his early shows, served up a vision of future femininity.

"The girl of tomorrow could look something like this - which is very encouraging for a start," he boomed, in a poor approximation of flattery for the model posing beside him. "On her head, no hair, but a nylon wig," - gesturing at the model's coiffure, which took its stylistic influences from the young Princess Anne and Ming the Merciless.

"No shampooing!" Raymond enthused. "Just a quick wipe with a damp cloth and it's as good as new." As for her clothes - a paper dress, a plastic mac and a damp British summer day do not make an attractive prospect. Papier-mache armpits, anyone? The transistor radio earrings, however, clearly herald the coming of the Walkman.

All this contributes to the ongoing success of Tomorrow's World: who knows what will become an indispensable part of everyday life, and what will seem like a loony, misguided invention within a few short years?

In tonight's show (BBC1, 7.30), Philippa Forrester tests a new fire alarm system and Craig Doyle navigates a ship with legs.