It had been decades since Coyote and I had been to the Royal Welsh Agricultural Show in Llanelwedd. Always up for a bit of fun and some new sights, we decided that we'd head over there this year and see what was on offer!
The fun started when we got on the shuttle bus. In a previous life, Coyote was a PSV/PCV driver...so it was quite amusing to see him glaring down the gangway, shooting daggers into the back of the driver's head. "Someone doesn't know his gears..." I think I did a pretty good job of not sniggering. Much.
After a short, sweaty hop to the show-ground, we got off the bus and followed the signs to the ticket booths. £42 lighter we stepped into the throngs making their way from stall to stall in the scorching sunlight. We had no idea where to start.
"Map?" Coyote suggested.
"Bloody good idea," I agreed. Off we set on a hunt for a map of the ground...so at least we could figure out where the loos were.
Eventually we found a stall that had programmes and maps. For £3 a piece. We guffawed and toddled off. There wasn't anything in particular that we wanted to see, so we figured that we might as well just amble around in various directions to see what we would stumble across.
There were sheep. Lots of sheep...
And Roy Nobles...
And horses...
And Jason Mohammads.
There were also tractors, cows, goats, more tractors, sunburnt people, more cows, drunk people, more tractors and a man who looked suspiciously like Billy Connolly. It wasn't him though...his beard wasn't purple and he wasn't singing about his wellies.
After a lot of wandering and wondering, we found ourselves in the shade of some trees at the back of a building elevated above the main show ring. I trained my lens on the horses and then something at the corner of my eye caught my attention. A man and a woman were sat above a building directly opposite us. She was chain-smoking and he was eating something. She looked like Ivor the Engine and he looked like a newsreader...but I couldn't be sure. If he was a newsreader, then where did he find the time to train? He must've trained...because never in my life have I seen someone put away so many olives in such a short space of time. It was deeply impressive.
By now we were thirsty and starting to turn crispy in the sunshine. Being Welsh, you see, we're simply not used to such weather. We're more used to going everywhere in full waterproofs, carrying roll-up kayaks in case of emergency. After a brief confab ("Home?" "There's beer there." "Home it is.") we left the show-ground and caught the shuttle bus back to the car park. N18, if you're interested...which we know you aren't...but it's the only actual fact you're going to get from this post so I thought I'd share it in the name of blogging integrity.
Coyote then shone. The car park was full to the brim. If I'd been on my own, I would still have been trying to find my car as the sun dipped behind the hills...but he made a beeline for Monty. I was impressed. More impressed than I was by the day's earlier display of jaw-dropping olive-scoffing prowess. I was so impressed, in fact, that I made a mental note not to poke his sunburnt bits.
We left Llanelwedd feeling tired but happy. It had been an experience...but not one we'll repeat. It could've done with more local produce for sale, more interactive displays, a cinema, a jacuzzi, a squash court...just kidding! Cheaper bottled water and a free map would've been a start, mind.
*Meep Sheep!*
.JPG)
