Becoming a hipster and hammertime


This afternoon I went to Toa Payoh and bought a scooter, for myself. Not an electric scooter. Not a Vespa. An honest-to-goodness overgrown child’s scooter, for me. This was a premeditated act of hipsterness. See also: learning to juggle, facial hair, artisanal gin, etc.

It’s also a little bit scary. Compared to a bike, the steering angle is incredibly sharp, the handlebars are ludicrously narrow, and the brakes… Oh yes, the brakes.

On my daughters’ scooters, they have to push down on the cover of the back wheel to activate the brake. On my scooter I have brakes front and back, one via pushing down on the back wheel, and the other via a brake lever on the handlebars. I didn’t realise until I got home that the handlebar brake controls the rear, and pushing on the back wheel controls the front. And not the other way round.

Cue rolling down a hill with the brake lever pulled tight against the bars, and the scooter still accelerating, and also attempting to apply a little bit of back brake and almost going straight over the front wheel and off to dental surgery. I must have looked a right state. Plus the scooter is a bit short (not enough space for both my spade like feet on it) so more than ever I seem to be the inept thief of my child’s plaything.

Just you wait till I get good.

This morning I had taken La Serpiente with me to visit the Rowenta service centre, to fix our oven that won’t stop working. You might not think that is a problem, but I mean you can set the timer for 20 minutes at 180° and it will still be going full blast an hour later.

We got a taxi to the service centre, or rather where the service centre used to be, and where there is now a small sign saying it’s moved to a different building down the street. The taxi had gone, so I picked up the oven and carried it 400 yards down the street, and then round the corner and all the way down the next street to get to the entrance of the building, and through the loading dock and into a lift and the while length of the building again, all this time La Serpiente holding onto my backpack and pulling at me to make it more difficult, until I finally arrived at the service centre, where they seemed to think I was complaining that my oven wouldn’t turn on, rather than turn off. So who knows what will happen when it’s "repaired" in 4-6 weeks time.

That meant my arms and legs were wrecked, and that didn’t help exercising this evening, but before that I did one good deed.

To get to our nearest MTR station, we walk down the hill, past the Singapore Police HQ, and as I took the children out shopping this afternoon, I saw a huge hammer lying in the grass by the ornamental hedge outside the station. I pressed on, but when it was still there when I was returning home, I figured blunt instruments shouldn’t be left lying around willy-nilly, and took it into the police station.

Well, I tried. Maybe they assumed this was the cover story while I established an alibi for some other nefarious crime. You have to give up your ID in exchange for a visitor badge, and then they x-ray your possessions to check for dangerous items. They x rayed my bag, the kids’ backpacks, the kids’ toys, my phone, my wallet, and of course, the hammer, just in case I was hiding something dangerous inside it.

Then we were ushered into the police station inside the police HQ (it felt like some sort of Russian doll arrangement at this point) and they took all sort of details from me (they tried to get my ID from me, but I explained the security counter already had that) and then I had to try to explain what my job is ("artist?" came the baffled response at one point when I said "analyst") and I began to worry I’d accidentally fitted myself up for something (don’t ever volunteer to get involved in bureaucracy) – I I got nicely panicked when he asked me to describe exactly where I’d found it, beyond "right outside your police HQ" and the girls never stopped demanding snacks.

But eventually, after both my hope and my phone battery had evaporated, they put the enormous hammer in an evidence bag, got me to sign eight copies of the informant report (is that octuplicate?) and we were free and clear. La Serpiente was annoyed we didn’t get to keep the hammer, and I think the policeman felt this was a waste of their time, but honestly, we don’t need surplus hammers lying around the streets, do we?

And so home, and exhaustion followed.


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