For those of you who follow my Facebook feed you will know that I recently passed my Singapore driving test. This news was met by many congratulations, "likes" and general kindness by my Facebook chums. I should admit that accepting these compliments is slightly fraudulent on my part.
Firstly, I have been driving a car since I was 18. Secondly, the driving test I did in Singapore is for foreigners wanting to convert their local licence to make them kosher on Singapore roads. Thirdly, the basic theory test which I sat is without question the most moronic test you could possible take in your life, particularly if you are already a driver. An example question would be, "If a pedestrian is stepping onto the zebra crossing, should you: A. Slow down and come to a complete stop giving way to the pedestrian. B. Honk your horn loudly to show your presence. C. Drive fast around the pedestrian or D. Run them over. Believe me, I only slightly exaggerate.
Anyway, I did study fairly hard for this test as there are some questions that they throw in there about the law and sentencing should you drive under the influence, get caught on your mobile phone or be kneading dough while on an expressway. These can trip you up if you muddle up your imprisonments from your lashings and your fines and you only get five wrong'uns before you fail the test and have to resit.
Furthermore, while most ladies of my age have recurring dreams of a Fifty Shades of Grey type with passion, romping and throbbing, my recurring nightmare since I was about 20 was turning up to my University finals not having revised. This continues to haunt my dreams nearly 20 years later which is a testimony to how miserable I was at university and also what a total dork I am. Therefore, study was implicit and luckily I passed. Amazingly, with full marks.
Now, given I passed my test, normal Beverly Hills form is for ones Daddy to buy them a new car. Sadly, I don't have my Daddy anymore, I don't live in 90210 and my husband did state from the outset that my total budget for this endeavour was $17.65 (cost of the registration and test) as opposed to the $75,000 required to buy a four year old beat up Toyota.
Instead, as I felt I deserved a reward for reading a book for three weeks and answering fifty multiple choice questions, I have bought myself a bike. I have justified this by my ongoing commitment to not taking taxis anywhere, always walking or riding the bus and continuing to wear my four year old Primark clothes for another four years. All false economy as these have been my self-imposed restrictions for many years while I continue to buy extravagant things that I don't need.
My key criteria when making enquiries about a bike was that it was a Raleigh (because that was the only bike make I know), it was 24inches because I could reach that comfortably without hurting myself, that it was aluminium instead of lead as I believe that makes it lighter, that it was baby blue and has a basket, not a wire basket, but a rattan basket. I was very specific about the rattan basket.
The nice gentleman on the phone asked me about Shimano gears and I responded, "yes, why not? Throw those things in too my good man". The next day my pretty new bike was delivered.
Now, we live on a very steep hill and my only way to town on the bike was down said steep hill at a pace and then left on to the very busy three lane road which goes on for about a mile and then left into Holland Village.
It must be pointed out that I have not really been on a bike officially since I was about 8 years old. I had a chopper then which is frankly like riding around on a comfortable dining chair. I have done a few saunters in the New Forest with my family and on the Canal Du Midi in France which was glorious because it was flat. That said I still managed to fall off my bike twice. Once trying to get through a four metre wide gate and the second time because I saw some people approaching about 100 metres away so threw myself and my bike on the floor so I didn't accidentally ride into them.
I generally consider myself an excellent driver. However, I am a complete numbskull on a bike (see above). I wobble all over the place. I have no sense of direction and as Pilates does not apparently count as proper exercise I have no stamina to get my lard arse up a hill. That said, I can do a shoulder stand, not that that helps much with cycling.
My first trip out was horrific. It was midday sun which was not my brightest move and cycling up the major Holland Road which takes you into the village was to me like cycling on the fast lane of the M25 when there is no traffic other than speedsters. It was absolutely terrifying as unfortunately, most motorists in Singapore, specifically taxi drivers suck and the concept of a wide berth does not exist.
After getting sucked into the wind of a few cars that decided to drive at 60mph as close to me as possible and then wobbling off my bike before coming to a complete stop, I decided to give up and do the thing I hate the most as a pedestrian and cycle on the pavement.
Given by this point I was scared, trembling and drowning in my own sweat I had little patience for the people at the bus stop and general amblers who refused to give way to me as I very slowly cycled down the pavement. Instead of stepping aside they would wait until I had reached them, braked and then would move so I would have to start off again which is always an ungainly wobbly affair, often heading in the direction of the road I was trying to avoid in the first place before sharply regaining my balance and righting my bike to cycle straight.
I did manage to get my lunch but by the time I got back home I was too hot, dizzy and nauseous to eat it.
Yet, as awful as my first trip out was, sheer doggedness did get me back on the bike yesterday whereby I took a different route to town. Cycled on the quieter roads, hopped onto the pavement on the faster roads and dismounted my bike when approaching people as by rights I should not be on the pavement. I think it is a fair compromise. I only plan to ride my bike to Pilates three times a week and for the odd trip to town. Of course on Monday I deliberately got to Pilates early because I needed fifteen minutes to stop sweating and shaking.
It is fairly clear if I continue to risk my life in this reckless manner I need to get a cycle helmet. Unfortunately, the bog standard cycle helmet is not the most flattering of items. I have purchased a particularly ugly one which sits high on the head as most cycle helmets do but is that much higher as it has to sit a further three inches off my scalp due to my enormous Singapore high hair mullet.
Ideally, I would have liked one of those little helmets children wear when scooting or on the ski slopes, however on adults they tend to look like the helmets one wears before getting shot out of a canon. So I will have to resign myself to looking like a pratty girl on a pretty bike.
Ultimately, the bike is good exercise and eventually I should have the muscular body of Fatima Whitbread to match the muscular hair of hers that I currently sport. It is my ultimate goal as long as I don't get run over first.
