We’re headed to The Stockman’s Bar.
All this ducking and weaving to avoid being ‘splintered’ can really build up a thirst.
“Straight ahead Julie, just follow your nose”, were my instructions as the Team was tidied-up, bits and pieces tucked back in and we’d been fed ‘n watered.
One of the things I loved about The Show was all the smells and bantered of the Country comin’ to Town.
Without the expert guidance of our resident ‘cocky’, Oggie, I thought I’d treat the boys to the sites of the Bull Pavillion (actually just Barns) enroute to the Bar. Al was as excited as a an 8 year old. But, I insisted he stay in line in orderly fashion. You see the site of 4 Quads in Wheelchairs strolling through the Barns was probably a 1st for the keepers and handlers of some of Australia’s finest breeding cattle. And I must admit it’s no easy feat pushing a wheelchair through a carpet of straw and slush. These animals are huge. I mean really huge in all proportions. Nearly all of the stock had their collective heads in the feed-bin and those that didn’t were taking a well-earned rest from displaying their wears around the Parade Ring that morning.
I couldn’t help thinking of Oggie stuck back in the ward. He would have loved this. He hadn’t missed a Show in 20 years and from all accounts had picked up many Blue ribbons along the way for the stock he managed out at Rylestone. A thought! Something to take with me and present to him on my return. I remembered on the back of my chair was a David Jones bag with some emergency clothing, in case of spillage, and additional medication, a spare Popper Juice and an apple or two. I asked Julie to redistribute the contents amongst the rest of the group so I could make up my own ‘Show Bag’ just for my mate, Oggie. Thank goodness Julie was a good sport. She folded the empty DJs bag on my lap and off we went. Naturally, Al had already overtaken me and was admiring the prime cuts T-Bone and Sirloin, still on-the-hoof. Julie hadn’t gone 10 steps when I asked her to stop. “Look, right there, that’s a nice start”. There sitting atop the straw was a neat pile of day-old, semi-dried nuggets of bullshit. “What”, said Julie. “Com’on Jules it’s for Oggie, just scoop it up, use the straw as gloves and put it the bag”. “Bullshit”, she said. “Exactly”, said I and went on to explain it’d make Oggie feel that a little bit on the Country had come to visit Spinal Unit Ward 1 at PHH. Julie was a great sport. Reluctantly we scooped up the prize and plonked it into the bag, straw and all. Perfect. By this time Al was at least 20 metres ahead and somehow had persuaded his pusher to get him right up and personal with the biggest Hereford bull you’d ever seen. Bloody big. I’m 6 foot 3 inches tall, or at least I still think I am, but everything looks big from way down here in a wheelchair. Al had managed to get alongside the beast and was gently stroking it while it contentedly chewed away at his feed bin. And from all accounts the animal didn’t mind a bit. Al should have stopped right there. But, he couldn’t help himself. On retreating back to the straw-covered corridor Al decided to have a feel of the animals “dusters”. Buggered if I know why. Now these “pills”, nestled comfortably into a scrotum of equally enormous proportions to the size of the animal were obviously the beast work-tackle, his future and his pride and joy. You just don’t go and fondle a bulls balls. The animal lead out with a straight right hind hoof that missed stupid bloody Al’s head by inches. Had it connected we would have been 1 inmate down in the Ward 1. What was he thinking? All Al could say was that the bull “was a bit touchy”. I told you earlier he’d hit his head pretty hard during his accident. Tragedy averted we left the Pavillion relatively unscathed, and I had my Show Bag.
“There it is, straight ahead”. Julia needed no prompting, she was just glad she hadn’t lost any patients on her watch. How would she explain 1 dead patient covered in bullshit to the authorities back at PHH.
Before we went into the Bar I rallied the team and asked them to try to be as inconspicuous as possible and warned Al he’d be left in a corner somewhere to fend for himself if he’d step out of line. The organizers try to make the Bar look as Countryifed as possible. A odd Acubra hanging of a peg, some old saddlery paraphernalia and photographs old past Champion-of Champion stock from the main arena. I’ve got to admit I was excited. Being there gave me a sense of the real-world. Away from the hospital smells and the clatter of bed-pans and the groaning of whining patients.
“Right, it’s my shout. What are you having?”
I interrupted the silence with a “I’m having a schooner”. This was followed up by “Me too”, from Al and Kal. Andy, the biggest member of the gang said “I’ll have a Southern Comfort and lemonade”. “Bullshit”, I said. “Hey, Jules make it 4 schooners of VB and whatever you and girls feel like”. I indicated to Julia to get the money from my bum-bag around my waste. With a look of reluctance she took the money and in no time had returned with the beer and several lemon squashes for the girls. And then announced we just having the 1 drink and then moving on. RightO, we’re set. One problem I didn’t see coming was that Andy, Kal and myself didn’t have the hand movement or control to hold a schooner. Come to think of it we couldn’t hold anything. Julia offered to hold the glass to my mouth for me to take a sip. I casually looked around the bar and noticed several of the bushies looking our way. Not staring, just interested. I told Julia I’d be OK, just hold the glass next to my chest, put my hands around the vessel and I’ll give it a go myself. It just wasn’t going to work. Bloody hands, bloody body! It won’t comply. So I asked Julie to prop my arms up, bend my elbows, with the back of my hands touching each other and my fingers pointing towards my throat. Hey, this might just work. Gee, I just want to feel half-man again and feed myself a beer. The guys watched in silence as Julie nestled the schooner in the back of my hands with the rim of the glass touching my chin. Success. I’m holding the schooner at last. Kal squealed out a ‘yippee’ or something just as inappropriate and thankfully shut-up when he saw my glare. Inconspicuous boys, remember. I craned my neck forward and lent back a little and tasted my 1st beer that I was drinking on my own in over 3 months. Albeit in a very unique manner. Now that’s progress. I must be getting better. The other helpers followed Julia’s lead and positioned the rest, who by now were chomping at the bit. I’ve never been one to lack confidence. Even in these difficult times. God, that beer tasted good. That good in fact, that I continued to lean further back to take a good sized gulp and ended up pouring 10 or so of the 15 ounces straight down the front of me. The boys roared laughing at my untimely beer bath. I’ve got to admit, it must have looked pretty funny and had a chuckle myself. Julia offered to change my sloppy-joe and I said we’d do that later after she’d renewed the round of drinks, “cause I’d only had a sip and spilled the rest”, and promised to be much more careful with the next one. She said “and the very last one”. Yeah whatever Jules. She really is a good sport – our Julia. Naturally bloody Al didn’t spill a drop and looked pretty pleased with himself at sculling his schooner down first. The new beer load arrived and the same manipulation of limbs took place. But, with this one I I’d be was very careful and hardly spilled a drop. Gee, it felt good. Not just having a beer, but feeling semi-normal. Another glancing look over to the bar and I saw the bushies raise their glass in my direction and say “Good onya mate”. Julia announced that we’d be on our way. The boys looked in my direction. Thankfully Andy said we couldn’t go yet “cause he hadn’t bought a round yet”. You should have seen the look on Julia’s face. She looked straight at me and waited for me to take control and redirect Andy’s generousity into leaving the bar immediately. Silence. She took forceful control of my chair and shoved me out of ear-shot of the boys to give me a quick lecture on the state of the other guys health and my responsibilities as team leader and, this drinking should cease now! During the 3 minute dressing-down, Andy had convinced his pusher that not completing the shout was totally un-Australian and he wouldn’t be budging until he’d returned the ‘shout’. By the time Julia had got me back Al was half way through savouring his 3rd schooner, Kal was having his choice of a double JD and coke and Andy finally got his Southern Comfort and lemonade. My schooner was sitting on the table waiting for someone - me. Julia was fuming. Thankfully, the icey atmosphere was suddenly broken by one of the bushies coming over to say g’day and inquire where we were from. We couldn’t be rude could we? So I started to give a drawn out brief of the team and where/what predicament we 4 now found ourselves in. After a minute or so Bluey, as he introduced himself invited us over to meet his mates. What were we to do. It would have been down-right rude not accommodate such a simple request. “Give us a push Bluey, Julia I promise this won’t take long”. And off I went. I could feel Julia’s eyes piercing the back of my neck. The boys followed in an assisted conga-line. A couple of Blueys mates helped with the transfer and assured the girls “We’ll only be a tick luv, relax”. How good is this. I deadest nearly forgot I was in a wheelchair (nearly). They were a good bunch of blokes. Bluey a wheat and sheep Station Manager from Warren. Gibbo a property worker from somewhere just 30 ‘clicks’ from Blueys joint. Macca a raw-bone mercenary farmhand that could turn his hand to anything, and always found work around Show time. And Robbo, the son of a property owner from out Barrabra way. He just attended the Show every year and met up with old school mates and fellow farmers that he’d played Rugby with either at Private School in Sydney or out around home. Al had finished his drink. One of Bluey’s mates said let me get you guys a drink. I quickly said no thanks and reminded Kal it was his ‘push’. You beauty drink number 4 arrived. Same as before. I wasn’t game to look over in the direction of Julia. The blokes told us a few yarns of what that’d been up to, what they were showing and what they were trying to achieve during the Show. But, in all honesty, I don’t think they would have lost any sleep over missing out on Show ribbon. They were there to have a bloody good time. And soon enough, so was my team. Gee, it felt good. It was as if they bushies didn’t even notice we were wheelchair-bound. What a great bunch. Without so much as a stare Al had asked Gibbo if he could fetch our next round for him. Gibbo even offered to pay, but I quickly insisted that Al was loaded and his money was in the top pocket of his shirt – look out for the moths. Drink No.5 tasted better than the 1st. I even felt a familiar glow from the effects. Not surprising considering we were into our 5th in about 50 minutes. It must have taken effect cause the ‘dutch-courage’ kicked in and I looked over at Julia to gauge a response. No sweat. She was nowhere to be seen. Probably gone to the loo. The other girls were ‘tut, tutting’ in a school teacher manner in the corner. Anyway, we didn’t miss a beat. We laughed, joked and were having a terrific time when I received a tap on the shoulder. It was Craig. “Hey fellas, before you get us all in the shit, drink up and let’s go”. Fine with me. “Hey Bluey and boys, thanks for the laughs, take it easy eh, cheers” and we were off. That touch with the real world just made me all that more determined to get better and get the hell out of PHH. Craig became my pusher and the girls followed. I told Craig the quickest way back was around to the left, follow along near the perimeter fence, down Sideshow Alley and that would take us straight back to the bus pick up area. Of course I’d also promised Al that route anyway and he could see it all, or what there was to see on the way out.
“Hey Craig, where’s Julia?” I inquired. “Don’t worry mate she’s waiting for us at the bus, she’s not very happy”.
The story will continue........
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