In the small galley kitchen of Elsie and Percy Holdsworth, which is painted orange and has cabinets with sliding frosted glass doors and solid wooden cupboards, with a tin of Andrews liver salts and some Brooke Bond tea cards lurking at the back, accompanied by a Chivers Fruit Cocktail Jelly so out of date it thinks Harold Wilson is still the Prime Minister, the last chip pan in use has now retired.
Before having its fatty liquid innards poured into a bottle to be put out for the waste collection, the chip pan reflected that people want their chips much less fire risky and heart diseasy nowadays. When the chip pan was empty of its long held sunflower oil and laying on the draining board it cast a glance at the new kid on the block, the air fryer, who gloated about being for the statins generation, for the people who are uneasy about a lot of grease, and for the modern world in which sunflower oil is not as cheap as chips and even chips are no longer as cheap as chips.
A nearby bag of potatoes sighed and said it was the end of an era.
image from pixabay