'Like Ikea – you couldn't cover it all' – one farmer's comment sums up the variety on offer at the ploughing, writes ALISON HEALY
NINE POUNDS, three shillings and five pence. That’s how much it cost when Athy hosted the first National Ploughing Championships in 1931. That would hardly have paid for a gourmet burger when the championships returned to Athy yesterday.
By the time the three-day event finishes at Cardenton tomorrow, it will have cost more than €3 million to stage. And there were probably no fruit smoothies or glass noodles on offer when the first championships were held 78 years ago.
Nothing is overlooked at this year’s event. From anaerobic digester plants to Aga cookers, it is all covered at more than 900 stands. And that doesn’t include the ploughing, the livestock shows, the sheep dog trials, the pony games, the vintage threshing . . . and the rest.
“It’s like Ikea,” said one IFA man who had recently been dragged along to the Swedish superstore. “You couldn’t cover it all. You need to know what you’re looking for and head straight for that.”
For singer Luka Bloom, it was like Glastonbury, but better. “It’s Grasstonbury,” he declared. But without the muck, thanks to the miles of roadways erected around the 600-acre site.
Some 180,000 people are expected to troop through the site before the biggest event in the agricultural calendar finishes tomorrow evening.
The sun shone for the opening day and the crowds parted to allow a people carrier with blacked out windows to glide by.
“Who’s that? Is it the Rose of Tralee?” one young girl asked her mother hopefully. “Tis even better than that. It’s Mary McAleese,” her mother said as she peered through the black glass.
But the Rose of Tralee was there too. Athy woman Charmaine Kenny stood on the stage and gave a regal wave to the crowd as the dignitaries were introduced before the President opened the event.
Mrs McAleese got a rousing reception as she waxed lyrical about the sheer scale of the event and the resilience of the farming community. Jaws dropped when a man wearing a “Don’t be bullied, vote No again” T-shirt started to heckle her.
“What about our country? What about our Constitution?” he shouted before a garda moved towards him and people looked offended on the President’s behalf.
But she appeared to be oblivious to the drama and continued talking in a measured fashion as the anti-Lisbon campaigner was escorted away.
Proceedings from the Dáil chamber are being beamed direct to the championships this week but there wasn’t a stampede to hear leaders’ questions yesterday. At 4.30pm, Tánaiste Mary Coughlan’s audience comprised a bored-looking small boy and a man with a rucksack who was resting his feet.
The recession has left its mark on this year’s event, with talks on debt management in difficult times and legal issues for farmers, as well as stands offering help for people suffering from depression.
The lady giving a patchwork presentation at the ICA tent was fighting a losing battle with the thumping music coming from next door where fashion shows were under way and the “most appropriately dressed” man and woman were chosen. It was third time lucky for Andrew O’Connell from Cork who previously won the event twice in the late 1990s. He was wearing a brown leather jacket, check shirt, jeans and green wellies when he received the tap on the shoulder to enter the competition.
“I splashed out on this hat,” he said, having spent €20 on a brown hat to complete the rustic look. “I get some help from the wife,” he admitted, when asked how he picked his clothes.
Catherine Fleming from nearby Ballylinan was the lucky woman winner, thanks to her €6 Dunnes Stores boots, €10 pink hoodie and grey sleeveless jacket from Vera Moda. Her $90 Rock and Republic jeans purchased in New York were the most expensive part of her outfit but they helped her to win a trip to the Christmas markets in Poland.
There was a cloud of hair spray hanging in the air behind another marquee. A puff of talcum powder, a dab of baby oil and it was time for the hair dryer to come out. “Does she kick?” asked a passerby as the hairdryer was wielded.
But no, Thomas McQuade’s two Charolais calves stood quietly as they were pampered and primped by his children Nathan and Amanda. “You wouldn’t spend as much time getting yourself ready,” observed Nuala Hourihane of the Irish Charolais Cattle Society.
“The effort they put in is amazing. All these cattle were washed, blow-dried and brushed this morning.” Paul Vickers had his box of tricks at the ready as the livestock classes got under way. It included buckets of soap, wax, hairspray (four different types, if you don’t mind) and a selection of combs. He was with David Wall’s Simmental herd from Newcastle in Dublin. “This makes their tail look like candy floss,” he said, wielding a can of hair spray.
There were no cattle at the first ploughing championships in 1931. Not to mention hairspray and talcum powder. Or candy floss.