(Pocket-lint) - One of the joys of living in 2015 is the government-mandated flexible working hours introduced shortly after 2010's disastrous hung parliament gave the Liberal Democrats carte blanche to introduce all kinds of social reforms.
It means that working your own hours has become far more of a regular practice, and a group of friends and I have chosen to take each Wednesday off to take advantage of cheaper drinking on a Tuesday night, as opposed to the Friday and Saturdays that still attract the majority of bar traffic.
Thankfully, waking up to a hangover is also a thing of the past, thanks to the oxygen-infused alcohol now served in the majority of licensed venues. Korean researchers discovered the trick in early 2010, and it means that punters get drunk just as quickly, but sober up rather faster than before. A few people - mostly old men - complain that the oxygen spoils the taste of their pint of mild, but takeup was quick after bars discovered that it helps reduce the likelihood of fights, too.
Waking up blearily just before midday, the blinds automatically slide open, thanks to a Bluetooth connection with my alarm clock, allowing the sunlight to flood across my duvet. My alarm clock is gently tootling away with a customised morning playlist that was auto-created from my favourite tracks a few weeks ago, and it's come on at the exact optimum time when I should be woken, taking into account my sleep cycles.
Hopping out of bed, I grab my tablet PC and walking through to the kitchen, I log into World of Warcraft, which is still running more than 11 years after it launched, to see if any of my auctions have sold overnight. Nothing. I stick the tablet into the cradle by the TV and grab my smartphone to check the fallout from last night.
Uh-oh. I've been auto-tagged in 50 photos. Facebook now has so many pictures of me that it can automatically recognise when new ones are uploaded. Thankfully, it asks me to approve them before they're put online. I select a few that aren't too terrible and ask it to automatically remove me from a few others, watching as it deletes me while leaving my friends intact.
I pull out a frying pan, and stick it on the counter's hotspot, setting it for bacon, and dropping a few slices of Fake-on inside. I haven't eaten real pig since the lethal swine flu resurgence of 2013. While it sizzles away, I switch my fridge display to connect to Mike, who I think set my GPS to take me home last night.
Mike's not answering. I remember thinking at the time that I didn't trust a man so drunk to set my GPS, but he seemed so sure of himself. Perhaps he forgot to set his own and got lost. A quick check of Google Maps shows him at home, though, so he can't have had too many difficulties. Biting into my Fake-on sandwich, I head back through to the living room.
I settle into the sofa, and fire up a few games to while away the afternoon. Nothing's quite catching my attention, so I ask my Wii HD to recommend me something else based on the games that my friends on Facebook have been enjoying. It offers a couple of interesting looking titles, which it's automatically downloaded for me. One comes with a free accompanying movie, so I set that to download too.
An IM comes through from Mike. He wants to go out again tonight. I groan, but then notice that my Last.fm recommendations has worked out that I'm looking for a place to go, and is showing a gig from one of my favourite acts. I book a couple of tickets and tell Mike. Turns out it was his ex-girlfriend's favourite band, so I send them straight on to the online secondary ticket marketplace to automatically sell, and grab some queue-jump e-tickets to a club that lets you vote on upcoming tracks on your mobile phone instead.
I check the weather forecast for the next few hours, which now has enough accuracy to tie-in with your GPS and diary to show you the weather where you're going automatically. Looks like rain, so I grab my coat, fire a quick IM to Mike to tell him to get the OxyBeers in, and step out of the door. Should be a fun night...
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