I have a fascination with agricultural shows. Especially when they combine rare British breeds and livestock contests. For some reason photos like this make me smile.
My parents live on the northern edge of the Yorkshire Dales and their local paper is full of these sorts of things. Maybe I find it a nice escape from London life, where our local free paper is full of tales of murder and woe.
Not that London life is all bad. I occasionally fantasise about living in the sticks, breathing the fresh air, growing my own food, wildlife surrounding us in a Disneyesque fashion.
Then I step out of my front door and am bombarded with people from all echelons of society and all four corners of the globe. Within a 5 minute walk I have restaurants covering South America, Italy, Kurdistan, Thailand, Turkey, Japan, a lovely yarn shop, quirky boutiques, bus links, tube stops, old Georgian squares, including one where George Orwell used to live, an Italian Futurist museum. I could go on.
If only I could have all this and a bigger garden, where I could rear and shear Wensleydale Longwools and Alpacas.
4 hours ago