On a busy Saturday, sandwiched between errands, we took ourselves off to the county show, just to wander around the grounds, visit some animals and soak up a bit of rural life. I have memories of visiting grand county fairs in Northwest America, complete with fairground and candy floss, tents of exquisite quilts, acres of livestock pens, and a man being shot of a canon.
The Isle of Wight version is a little less explosive, but equally charming. We watched the small collection of sheep on show, saw a laughably enthusiastic dog run through hoops, and visited the most enormous bovine I’ve ever seen. We walked through the woodland, under kids climbing trees, and people turning wood. The fresh timber hewn from the steam-powered saw mill made me long for a hand built house, which would also justify the purchase of a tidy old tractor, and a sensible selection of old tools.
We had to head off rather quickly, to get supplies in town and sing at a wedding. But we’ll be back next year, to have a go at the archery and maybe enter the contest for best Victoria sponge.