Woolly says – It wasn’t the best start to the day, upon opening the curtains I was greeted with dark grey clouds and a thin drizzle of nasty wet stuff, then it got worse, a message from daughter Zoe, who was supposed to be meeting us for the day, telling us that she was positive for COVID. Given that things come in three’s I firmly crossed every paw, my tusks and my trunk in the hope that nothing else would go wrong.

Passing through the lovely town of Malvern I realized that I knew little or nothing about what the day would be like or what we might find, I turned to the human to see if I could gleam a little more.

It was quite nice to be the one in charge for a change and as we waited in the show traffic, I filled my small companion in. We were attending the Three Counties Show, an event that I had competed in many times in my youth on horseback and to which I had brought an 8 or maybe 9 year old Zoe to many years later. This year marked it’s 100^th year although the story goes back a bit further than that.

‘The roots of Three Counties Agricultural Society actually lie as far back as 1794 when John Clerk of Builth published his book, ‘General Views on Agriculture in the County of Hereford’. He observed that there was no agricultural society in the county of Herefordshire which led to the formation of Herefordshire Agricultural Society in 1797 when George III was on the throne of Great Britain and Napoleon was invincible throughout Europe. The first show took place on Broad Street in Hereford in 1798 and the Society later developed into Three Counties Agricultural Society with the amalgamation of Worcestershire in 1894 and Gloucestershire in 1922.’ The website had told me.

Woolly says – Ooohhh will it get a burpday cake I asked, Jo laughed and shook her head, replying with ‘No, but you will see lots of animals and things not seen by a mammoth before’. I sighed happily and wondered how many mammoths might be attending that day and if there was a best mammoth competition. Having parked and found a way in, the drizzle eased and I was able to uncross everything which was is good job as walking was difficult. Having looked at the map and disregarded it I headed to the left and the noise of baaing and bleating.

Sheep everywhere of many different sizes, coat lengths and a variety of colours. We stood watching a class being judged with no idea of what the criteria was but the breeders and owners seemed happy with the rosette giving so all must be good. A large barn allowed us to look at even more sheep, I spent a while chatting to one who had the best fringe I have seen.

Next door were the pigs, huge males were being herded round the ring with the biggest ……

…. Oh, apparently, I shouldn’t have been looking at that part of the pig.

Next came some calves who bounced and tried to leave the area whilst their handlers attempted to keep them under control, sadly their barn areas weren’t open to the public so we headed across the show ground and towards the section that I knew Jo was looking forward to, the horses.

There were a number of well presented mounts doing strange things in the fenced off area with some of them appearing to go sideways and others reversing which wasn’t how I expected horses to be, I peered up at my carer to see if she could enlighten me.

I explained the rudimentary areas of dressage, showing jumping and showing to the furry one and continued to watch number 15 who really needed to sit deeper into her saddle.

Woolly says – As she continued to mutter strange things, I left her to it and headed into the indoor exhibition of orchids. There were some very pretty ones on display and a huge selection for sale at incredible prices, far more than my pocket money would run to.

I wandered back outside into the now steady drizzle and found Jo looking at hunting hounds, who regardless of your feelings on hunting were beautiful dogs and had incredible behavior unlike our trusty mutt who was spending the day in the dry with our neighbor.

As the skies increased in darkness and the amount of water falling from it, we ducked in and out of the hundreds of stores looking at pictures, crafts, wood carvings and all things farming.

A lovely selection of vintage vehicles stood in the rain next to the fair ground which due to the levels of rain had few people interested in doing on them.

A loud buzzing sound greeted my ears and wondering if an over size bee had invaded the grounds I headed towards its source. A large stage held nothing but half a tree trunk and a man with a chainsaw, Jim the Chainsaw (yes that is his real name) was going to produce an amazing piece with just his saw and the large log in 30 minutes. I settled into to watch this incredible feat, five minutes in the sheet rain started and Jo dragged me from my straw bale and thrust me into the first tent opening that she could find.

I found myself eye to eye with a large alpaca who didn’t seem to bothered by my presence and merely gave me a quick once over before tucking into his hay. The tent was full of them and I will own up to giving our a few aarrrs at how cute they were.

The rain had slowed somewhat so we headed back to Jim, sadly Jim and his log had vanished but a large beautifully carved bear showed some of the work he had achieved previously.

Picking up the faint sound of metal banging we wandered towards the smithy’s area passing a large collection of steam engines and there very soggy owners.

The blacksmiths were working under cover and had nice glowing braziers to keep them warm as they shoed the horses and made items for the public.

Slightly further on were the magnificent shire horses, the breed had become well known in the UK during the reign of Henry VIII who had used them as battle horses, the tank of the Tudor times. Today only around 3000 survive across the world which is such a shame as they are beautiful and so wonderful to watch. The parade of this year’s shires told the story how a shame they had featured through our history and I clapped most enthusiastically as they passed me by.

With the rainfall getting heavier and heavier we raced into the goat tent and spent a while admiring their fleeces and horns.

We stood in a corner of the very crowded tent and looked at our map, it seemed that we had at least seen most things even if only briefly and as Jo’s jeans were dripping, her coat was soaked through to her inner layers, I had to be content with the day when she asked if it would be ok to head back to a warm and dry van where she could get changed. Except for the rain it had been a great day sadly they have yet to start events for showing mammoths but maybe that could be achieved in the next 100 years.