Tag Archives: Viv

Nurse Barbara – Are you Serious?

19 Saturday Mar 2016

Posted by in Mark, Vivienne

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Written by Mark. True stories by Vivienne.

If you haven’t read the first part go here

Nurse Barbara Bees Lips Misses Finger

After all this time writing here and elsewhere I have rarely written anything serious or should I say real or factual. This will be different for us both. No pictures but stick with me, I think this is important.

I have recently had some conversations with Vivienne asking if she could provide some snippets about Nurse Barbara, as you know Vivienne and Nurse Barbara are the same person. Vivienne sent half a dozen snippets or so and gave me editorial control of that information to use here at the Arms.

I used humour on some of the ones that had ready to go material in them but the real story is quite different. It shows a multiple skill set application used by someone who lives somewhat isolated. That skill set develops over time and often comes from events. Mainly these events are urgent  however you usually have to do something or you know that something bad is going to happen. So you do something. This needs to be recognised.

Now the dog was bitten on the lip by a bee, Viv’ husband called out to her that the dog didn’t look right and Nurse Barbara better come and attend.  Nurse Barbara removed the sting and applied Beechworth honey to the wound. The dog recovered half an hour later. The name Nurse Barbara has stuck ever since.

The said friend did have his finger saved by Nurse Barbara and the gag about the finger going the wrong way came from Viv or one of her family going to hospital and being asked why they thought their finger was broken to which they replied “well, it’s pointing in the opposite direction for a start…”

All what we would call the nursing process, assess, plan, implement and review.

Now here’s a first, well at the Arms any way. Here’s the next episode of Nurse Barbara but the truth first, Dr HOO’s version will come second. I’m combining these two snippets in to one story but I want you to hear the real ones first, unedited.

 

Road gravel and broken wrist

“Viv’s daughters were riding their bikes one Saturday afternoon. The road was safe, a gravel no through road. It was good as daughter No.2 had just recovered from a severe bout of tonsillitis. A lovely spring day too. Then knock knock and crying could be heard. Viv opened door to the sight of daughter No.1 covered in blood and crying in pain and panic. Daughter No.2 was okay but they were both exhausted. They’d crashed into each other. One hit the gravel badly. Nurse Barbara went into action. Where was the source of the blood. To the bathroom and a lot of gentle washing and picking out of gravel from chin and knees and hands. Then finally – oh dear, broken wrist. Panadol first, then phone off duty doctor. Drive to town. Doc wants an X-ray. Off to hospital –what a bugger. Back to doc who confirms what Nurse Barbara said – broken wrist (really!). Finally back home. The next day hubby cut off his big toe in ride-on mower accident. This time Nurse Barbara called the ambulance. She then hosed the blood off the verandah. Next day she fixed the mower so it automatically cut out the mower when no one on it. Then ensued three months of nursing. The toe did not grow back.”

That’s a busy weekend and when I read it, I could strongly identify with most of the aspects of the work. One of my nursing roles was, you’re it, look after anyone that comes through that door.

The other issue here is outcome. Injury and illness cause consequence. At many stages on our journey through life the truth tells us what those consequences really mean. Humour can but won’t necessarily do all of that for us. Again this requires recognition.

Now I am going to tie all this in with this gem. Excellent work here by Nurse Barbara.

The Mauled Lamb

“Savlon to the rescue. The lamb’s stomach was ripped open. Nurse Barbara – we have to save it says hubby as he pours himself a port. Do something! All I’ve got is Savlon and a sheet. Squeezed whole contents of tube of Savlon into open wound, cuts up sheet, winds it around lamb’s body, put lamb into laundry with a Hessian sack covering whole body. Next day – it was alive and got up and took off to join the other sheep. It recovered – sheet gradually unravelled after a few days. Got top money at market a year later.”

Clever work for certain. Now the Dr HOO version isn’t written yet but it will be soon as the writing bug continues. Nurse Barbara will have to go herself because Sandy won’t want to get out of bed, Gordon is busy watching TV and the Bish is in the den smoking. Can’t wait.

Cheers

Mark

 

 

 

 

Nurse Barbara – Bee’s Lips Misses Finger

18 Friday Mar 2016

Posted by in Vivienne

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tiny microbus

The 4WD

Based on trues stories by Vivienne

Hi all, Sandy here from Inner Cyberia. The Bish wants me to investigate this amazing, well actually incredibly amazing story that a bee’s lips misses someone’s finger and here I am in the four wheel drive heading way back out the back of out there somewhere, hmm.

Anyhoo I have brought along with me Nurse Barbara. “Say hello Barbara”

“Hello Barbara” says Nurse Barbara “been wantin’ to that one for years. Got any cigarettes, hidden stash, bottle, cash?” asks Barbara “Nah, didn’t think so, don’t seem the type.”

“I hope you can fix this poor person” I inform “it’s a lady called Viv, but it’s not Viv” I ramble.

“So, you purse carrying nancy boy, you are dragging me out here to see someone who was called Viv but then it changed and then it became Viv again! Crikey you have a nerve” completes Nurse Barbara.

“It’s Viv’s husband, not Viv.” I say.

“What’s his name ?”asks Nurse Barbara.

“Viv’s Husband, er, um, yeah that’s right, it’s Viv’s Husband for certain, yes his bee’s lips have missed someones finger” I confabulate wonderfully.

“Turn in here” points Nurse Barbara. Waiting at the gate is Viv and we pull over and get out and meet her.

“That bloody husband of mine let that bloody dog in the back yard and yelled ‘Nurse Barbara’ so we thought it must have been yours” says Viv.

“Nah not mine” says Nurse Barbara with typical nurse authority, “Oh and what happened to all of those things in the title, see read it at the top of the screen. It says Bee’s Lips Misses Finger.”

008

So cute

“That’s true, guess we got Nurse Barbara bit so far then it says ‘Bee’s Lips’. That’s right the script goes, well I looked at the dog, the dog wasn’t right, or left for that matter and her mouth was swollen bigger than big, right” continues Viv.

“Sit, stay” says Nurse Barbara to the cute little dog who is simulated on the right, opened up her magnificent and world famous chest and with her best and finest tweezers and skilfully removed a bee sting from the dogs lip.

“I’ll put Beechworth honey on those lips and they’ll be fine in half an hour. Fancy a sherry Nurse Barbara?” asks Viv. “The men can sit out side and scratch their nuts, lets face it, that’s all they are good at aren’t they, oh that and the reproductive organ” laughed the girls as they strolled arm in arm up to the veranda in the shade.

“Now what about Misses Finger?” asks Nurse Barbara reading the rest of the story title.

“Oh Mrs Finger, she lived down the road and round the corner. Moved on ages ago anyhoo a friend, who shall remain nameless, was doing a little chainsaw work for her.  Due to a lack of attention said friend sawed off the said side of his right said forefinger.” say Viv, totally ignoring tense due to “said” overuse in the last sentence. Thankfully at this moment her cat and keyboard are no where in sight.

my kinda santa

Nurse Barbara

What would Nurse Barbara do, hmm thinks Viv– I don’t have a big enough bandaid. “Please sit down while I drive to town for some supplies.”  Can’t you just hear the Benny Hill Theme Song playing here. At the chemist Viv found just the ticket – a couple of metres of continuous fine medical material, gloves and an internal applicator (with instructions and gel!). Hmm.

“Every day Nurse Barbara” says Viv now returning to tense and sense “I re-bandaged the finger until it had healed. Miraculously the finger also grew back.”

“You’re saint Viv, me and you are like minded” gushes Nurse Barbara.

“Well there is only one tiny little problem” fesses Viv “Well I put the finger on the wrong way…”

 

 

 

 

 

 

The Tail of God 3

05 Friday Sep 2014

Posted by in Mark

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Pic by Warrigal

Pic by Warrigal

Just a recap, my name is Gordon O’Donnell. I am scientist from another dimension and me and a couple of class mates accidentally created the universe. Our teachers have sent us here to study for our degrees and I am heading for the planet Earth in the galaxy know as the Milky Way. My task so far is to create a monetary system, teach everyone in the galaxy to speak English but more importantly teach them cricket.

“C’mon Gordon” says Viv. Viv is my SNAP (Space Normalisation Adaptation Process) Coordinator, oh, in case you forgot, space an acronyms go hand in hand. Damn. “We are heading up to the bio so I can show you where you will be living till Earth is ready for you” Viv informs.

“What’s a bio Viv?” I ask as I glance around my beautiful cabin, a book list to die for, my own cook and a bar that never runs out.

“With long distance space travel you need to live in a biosphere otherwise you will go mad or in your case, madder” laughs Viv.

“Do you think I’m mad Viv?” I question.

“No, not so far anyway Gordon but you will eventually live in Inner Cyberia at the Rectory of the Church of St. Generic Brand with Bishop Bishop, Father O’Way and Belinda the housekeeper. Most of the time this lot are found drinking at the Window Dressers Arms Pig and Whistle affectionately know as The Pigs Arms. A stoic bunch of drinkers are always there and they are going to test you out. You need to know how to respond to fit in.” says Viv.

I find I cannot speak. Never in my wildest dreams could I have ever imagined such a scenario. We jump in an elevator and after a few minutes the lift door opens and we are in the main street of some sort of village. A mixture of housing surrounds and I can see a hotel, café and a few shops. People are moving around the streets.

“C’mon Gordon, I show you your house” instructs Viv and we walk a very short distance to a beautiful bungalow style house that over looks the beach.

“Wow this is fantastic” I mutter out loud, more really thinking about my surroundings than making any intelligent comment.

“Fair dinkum Gordon, anyone that doesn’t like this is a few kangaroos short in the top paddock” says Viv. Viv reads my face in an instance. “Fair dinkum means is that right and a few kangaroos short in the top paddock means that if you didn’t like this then you must be a mad” Viv informs with that irrepressible smile.

“This bio is the beach side village with fishing harbour, point break for surf and foothills at the rear and cricket oval in the centre of town. There are about 50 droids here who will create the atmosphere so it seems as if you are having a normal existence plus a four team cricket comp. The central computer has set the weather to replicate your birth planet and is fairly similar to Earth, you know day night, summer winter.” Viv states as this is all fairly ordinary.

Me, I’m overwhelmed. This amazing house with wrap round verandas that take in all possible views. A village, here in space, fair dinkum, hey its working, maybe I can settle into Earth after all.

“Come on Gordon, lets hit the pub for a couple of frothy’s, beers, before tea, dinner” says Viv, teaching as she goes along.

We enter the pub. A magnificent low lying building with a grand bar and a dining room to one side. Several droids are sitting at tables talking about the weather and some at the bar like they are propping the place up and watching sport on the screen.

We perch on a couple of stools at the bar and are approached by the barman. “Gerard, this is Gordon” says Viv. We shake hands, a custom I’m not quite used to yet.

“What will it be Gordy, we have Trotters Ale or Trotters Ale” informs Gerard.

“Make that two” says Viv. I’ve been drinking this Trotters Ale since coming on board and I must admit I really like it now although it did take some time. “So for tea Gordon it’s Bat Shit on toast or Kanck’s gizzard sandwiches?” smiles Viv.

My jaw drops and the bar erupts in laughter, hmm, Inner Cyberians, a tricky lot.

We enjoy a few more ales and I’m feeling quite relaxed but there is something that has been puzzling me. “ Viv” I explore, treading carefully, afraid to be thought of as mad “ Look in the last episode someone spoke to me about getting on with it, I thing the name was Hung”

“ Oh, Hung” reveals Viv, full of knowledge “ Hung’s the author of this story. Look see that screen over there, and how you can see a faint image of a person typing at the keyboard, well that’s Hung”

“ Author, story, you mean I’m not real but simply a fictitious character.” I blurt confused as to what’s going on.

“ Of course you are real Gordon. Everyone that reads this story knows you created the universe and this website has over 450,000 hits so mate you are very real” asserts Viv.

“ But he spoke to me” again my anxiety rising.

“ And yeah, you can speak to him any time but it must be inside closed brackets like this []. If you don’t like something or have a suggestion on the story just type you request inside closed brackets and Hung will talk to you” says Viv. “ Here I’ll show you”

[Hey Hung, great gag about the bat shit on toast]
[Thanks Viv. Gordon may need some sedation later till he understands]
[Yeah, he’s a bit wet behind the ears but I think we can work with him, I mean he likes beer for starters]
[Hung, Gordon here, am I real?]
[As real as anything else in this universe. Don’t worry, any concerns just talk to me. My closed brackets are always open to you.]

First published: http://hungsworld.wordpress.com/2014/09/05/the-tail-of-god-3/

The Bottom of the Barrel

16 Wednesday Apr 2014

Posted by in Emmjay, Politics in the Pig's Arms

≈ 74 Comments

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One down and one to go

One down and one to go

Story by Emmjay, Photo borrowed with undying thanks from the Canberra Times.

“But he was one of the better NSW premiers,” said Voice.

“That’s a load of cobblers” said Gez.  “His mates are up to their tits in it”.

“Not a chance of being up to my tits”, said Viv, adjusting her polo neck.

The usual suspects were having a quiet one or fifteen in the main bar of the Pig’s Arms and the ABC was re-running an interview (if you could call it that) of Robbie Robertson repeating over and over and over some horseshit about three cabinet ministers and one premier gone already and three more sitting members to face ICAC after Easter.  And “This has nothing to do with a bottle of wine.  It’s got everything to do with the untrustworthiness of the Liberal Party, blah, blah, blah. And I’m not going to draw any comparisons with anyone on this side of politics who has made a career out of corrupt behaviour and scored top billing at ICRAP”.

Arturo stirred his 1959 Grunge with a finger previously dipped in Granny’s wedges sauce – for that extra bit of piquancy.  He looked piqued, for sure. And he could have easily landed the lead role in Baz Luhr’s upcoming pulp movie ‘The Piquinese Falcon’.  Sinister, didn’t raise his eyes above the rim of the glass when Hung demanded to know where he got the Grunge.

“I don’t remember”, said Arturo.  “Wot, so the label embossed with ‘Compliments of the O’Bad Empire’ is no clue ?” inquired Hung.  Manne emerged from the cellar in the Greiner of time and added helpfully “I remember the Grunge, Mr Demons”.  That was the one that Merv had lying under his bed for a rainy day and he lost it in a poker game with Sir Lunchalot.  I dropped it off at your place on the way home, and you scribbled a note that I delivered to Mr O’Bad.  It said “Not half O’Bad, many thanks, the Rodent”.  “I thought it was very funny, Mr Demons.

“I don’t remember” said Arturo. The juke box was playing the Beatles’ “Baby said she’s drivin’ on the one after 59”.  “That reminds me”, said Manne, “Is (former) Justice Sin Minefield out of the slammer yet ?” “Nope said Gez, it’s getting pretty crowded in the P-wing library out at the Bay”. “Is it true that Ivan Milhat and Peter Snidearse asked to be moved out to avoid the corrosive influence – or more likely the smell of bent politicians ? I mean – even psychopathic killers have standards”.

“Most likely” said H (who was renowned for thinking the best of even the most obviously evil criminals).  “I’m given to believe that they adored their mothers and were kind to sparrows”, she added.

The acoustically-enhanced Pig’s Arms car park gravel gave up its customary crunchiness under the weight of a huge white NSW government Falcon piloted by Chikka Kerryovski and Colin Peters.  Obie, One Barrel Fatobie, rolled out of the back seat onto the deck trailing about a half a canteen of cutlery from the back of his commodious jacket.  The other half of the canteen was in the Kent street lunchroom – lacking almost all the knives.

The entourage entered the side door of the pub and took up the more comfortable seats in the ladies lounge.  “I had a serious memory failure” said Obie One.  “Thank Cripes for that”, said Arturo, who had been wondering whether the Cook’s River was going to give up more flotsam.  More in the shape of a Sinister Demon, he was thinking.

“GEEZUSS”, said Hung, holding a rather tired napkin over his nose.  “Someone must be cleaning out the grease trap in the Ladies Lounge”.  “There IS no grease trap in the Ladies Lounge, said Manne in his ever-helpful way”.

“For some reason I feel like a felafel” said Gez.  “You must be kibbehing me” said Hung  “I’m smelling the overwhelming stench of hypocrisy.  “How can you hommusly think of Foodge at a time like this ?”

“I feel awful”, said Voice.  “Our good ship NSW is without a rudder”.

“Perhaps” said Gez. “But there’s no shortage of ballast”.

Tabouleh continued ……