THE MYSTERY OF THE NOT-QUITE-HOMEMADE OVEN CHIPS

I tried to cook chips today. Yes, America, I mean fries, not potato chips; let's not go over that again. And anyway, I don't mean those skimpy fries you get in McDonald's; I mean proper thick-cut oven chips that look like they've been hacked out of a potato by a machine that usually makes doorstops. So if we may, let's just agree to call those things 'chips' for now, eh?

Anyway, I preheated the oven to 200 degrees centigrade. It suddenly occurred to me that that was a very hot temperature indeed, compared to a hot day or a bath or a person with a fever. I reminded myself that potatoes don't normally cook while they're outside in the summertime, and it all sort of made sense. I spread out the chips on a baking tray like they were sunbathing, and then waited for the kettle to boil so I could make a nice cup of tea.

"I wonder whether I could sing a concert A..." I thought to myself, "...without any music." I reasoned that the best way would be great to try would be to think of a song that's always in A major, sing it naturally inside my head and then find the tonic of the scale. If I'd got it right it should be an A, floating in at exactly 440Hz and proving that perfect pitch might be a learnable thing.

I hummed a note while I set the oven timer. The numbers flicked round to 0:25 which I figured would be about right for chips. I grabbed my phone and tried to find a YouTube video of someone playing a concert A. Easier said than done. In the end I found a video of a kind of pure sine wave at 440Hz and realised that I had picked a G, which is close but still two semitones out, so not perfect. My theory about perfect pitch will have to wait for another day. Instead I got on with the washing up. I did remember though that the microwave hums in G so perhaps I could test that one next time.

After I'd washed up, I started folding shirts and pairing clean socks. Just as I was stuffing one sock inside another, the pinger went off. I went back to the kitchen, cancelled the pinger and opened the oven.

There was nothing inside it.

I was mystified. The baking tray and the chips had vanished! I mean they'd gone! I looked around the kitchen, went out to see if I'd left them by the clothes horse, on the tumble dryer, or back on the draining board. Nothing. They had actually disappeared!

The clock told me I had five minutes before I had to leave for band practice. I was getting a bit annoyed now, so I switched off the oven and swung the door shut.

How could I have lost a whole tray of chips?

It was all I could think about throughout band practice. Plus, I was super-hungry. I've still got no idea what happened.

Where are my chips?