Grand day out

MY first thought on entering the Great Yorkshire Show-ground - after my relief at arriving early enough to beat the traffic queues and panic on realising I hadn't made a mental note of where I'd left my car, that is - was not the one I'd expected.

What on earth are all these men in bowler hats doing? I wondered.

They were everywhere, looking just like the sinister and rather shadowy Men From The Ministry who lurk in the background of Graham Greene novels, their smartish, if rather dusty, pin-striped suits topped by ageing, threadbare bowlers which bore more than a passing resemblance to the top of William Hague's head.

They were there when National Farmers Union president Ben Gill (who farms near Easingwold, in case you didn't know) delivered his rousing speech about the threat to farmers from the strong pound.

They were there when judges were deliberating about which of the Aberdeen Angus, Blonde A'aquitaine and Lincoln Red bulls should be judged Supreme Breed Champion.

And they were there at virtually every intersection, meeting point or tented pavilion across the breadth of the great showground, leaning on those odd pointed sticks that some country folk like to carry and looking important in an unobtrusive and somehow rather intimidating way.

They obviously weren't city gents, I thought, bemused. There was something about the rolling stride with which they moved that spoke of a lifetime of forking hay, sitting astride tractors, or herding cattle and sheep.

And then it struck me. Of course! They must be show officials. How odd.

Now farming, as anyone who lives in a rural area will know, is in crisis. The country way of life is under threat. Farmers, huntsmen, village post offices and elderly people trapped in isolated rural communities by the lack of public transport - all are falling victim to the growing urbanisation of our society.

Ben Gill said so himself. Government economic strategy had cost tens of thousands of rural jobs, he thundered: and the strong pound had wiped £4 billion off the value of farm products during the past four years.

That may well be so: but there was precious little sign of it at the Great Yorkshire Show yesterday. The place throbbed, heaved, teemed with life. It was bursting at the seams. It was, in fact, almost as busy as the set of a Ridley Scott film, if such a thing is possible.

In the cattle pens, a group of squat, powerful shorthorn bulls were being led round a parade ring by white-coated farmers. The bulls' eyes rolled. One bellowed, head stretched, his massive shoulders lurching as he walked, attendant clinging to a rope attached to his nose.

"We hope one thing you notice when you look around is the relationship between man and beast," intoned a voice over the loudspeakers. It was obviously a quiet moment between judging, and he had some time to fill. "Because it is a close relationship. A lot of people don't realise we have this close a relationship to the cattle and sheep we look after."

"Oh, I can't stand to see them pulling their noses like that," said a woman in the crowd, overcome with pity for the gigantic beasts.

"It's the only way they can control them," said her husband, as a tiny, white-coated farmer was dragged bodily around the ring by the huge bull to which he was attached.

"I know," said his wife. "But I just can't stand to see it."

Beyond the cattle pens, down a narrow aisle between tents, were the Alpacas. Yes, that's right, Alpacas. If you don't know what they are, think woolly, long-necked beasts from the high Andes, a bit like gentle llamas. One, already shorn and surprisingly skinny once deprived of its fleece, sported an appealing Patrick Kluivert haircut. It knelt in the centre of its pen with three woolly, unshorn friends, contentedly chewing the cud.

"They are wonderful animals," enthused Pat Bentley, who, with husband Bill, has built up a breeding herd of 180 animals in Cumbria. Why? "They're gentle, sweet-natured, reasoning animals with real imaginations. They can understand things and work things out. If you're taking them somewhere they'll be looking around to see where you expect them to go." The shorn animal looked at me, and I'd almost swear it gave me a nod.

In the rural crafts tent, Margaret White was almost having to fight off customers interested in her hand-carved rocking horses. She, husband Terry and son Richard were a small family concern, she explained.

They displayed their rocking horses at all the big shows, where people could see the quality of their work for themselves.

"These agricultural shows are good for us," she said. "Farmers are traditional, family-minded people. These horses will pass down for generations."

Buoyed by the simple faith in the future of farming her statement implied, I wandered on. Other entrepreneurs, too, I noticed, were keen to take advantage of the throngs of people gathered here to make a little hard-earned cash. Everywhere were catchy little signs, the written equivalent of radio advertising jingles.

One tent, for some reason, sold office furniture. "We've got the chair for you!" said the sign. Another, more appropriately, sold animal tags. "The future is here for animal ID!" proclaimed the sign jauntily.

Then there were the Numnahs. "Visit www.numnah.co.uk for the Very Best in Numnahs!" screamed a sign - without bothering to explain what a numnah is.

It is an equestrian saddle cloth.

Possibly most enterprising of all were the two women from Elnapress Fast Systems Ltd, "The Easy Way To Iron!" Their Elnapress irons looked like a cross between a heated trouser press and an ironing board. Each could iron a whole shirt in seconds, as Linda Murfin and Sue Bullock demonstrated - repeatedly. "Everyone has an ironing problem," said Linda, optimistically. "We might sell 25 or more, depending on the weather."

The award for bravery, though, must go to one of the food stalls in the Yorkshire Farmer Foodcourt: 'French Uppercrust'. "Le Menu," proclaimed a board next to the serving hatch. Ye Gods, I thought, do they know where they are? But the punters appeared to queue there as happily as anywhere else - even if British beef wasn't on the menu.

Back at the cattle pens, the announcer had returned to his theme of the relationship between man and beast.

"Just look at that bull!" he told his audience, as a winning animal was led round the ring.

"He's proud to have won! People say they don't understand, but they do. The men are proud. And so are the cattle."

And so should we all be, I thought. Country life in decline?

Try telling them that at the Great Yorkshire Show.

PICTURE: Man and beast... in the cattle judging enclosure at the Great Yorkshire Show