Prague Spring Anniversary

One of my earliest childhood memories is the excitement of preparing to go to the Lismore Agricultural Show. In my family at least, it was a tradition to get a new outfit for the occasion. I remember the anticipation of the day off school and the hours of wandering through the pavilions and sideshow alley.

One year, I got lost coming out of the haunted house. I thought it was sensible to walk home, but as an eight-year-old, I didn’t realize that it was a five-kilometer walk. I’m sure my sister, who was supposed to be supervising me, was quite distressed.

I’ve attended many agricultural shows over the years, including the Royal Shows in Brisbane, Perth, and Adelaide (mostly over-inflated sideshows) and smaller shows in Bourke, Renmark, Wagga Wagga, Lockhart, Fred’s Pass, and other locations. I’ve also been to the Royal Easter Show in Sydney every year for the past decade.

Although I work at the show, I also enjoy attending as a reminder of my rural roots, which are important to me as I lead an increasingly urban lifestyle.

Early this morning, I inspected the preparations for the cattle judging at the Royal Easter Show. Some cattle were being washed, while others were having their coats clipped and their hooves polished. Some of the cattle seemed to enjoy the pampering, while others found it a bit of a drag.

If you can arrive early, it’s the best time to visit the Royal Easter Show. Before it becomes one big sideshow, you can see all the preparations and some of the less showy events, like sheep judging.

My excuse for going to the Royal Easter Show is work, but I also enjoy it for my own personal satisfaction. I wandered around and snapped a few interesting photographs that I’d like to share with you, dear reader.

The Animals: I took a photograph of goats through the bars of their enclosure. I wasn’t making a pro-animal, anti-farming protest. I liked the contrast of the silver bars against the softness of the sunlight coming through the window and resting on the goats’ faces. About five minutes later, I saw a man talking to a teenage girl sitting on a bale of hay in her own enclosure. She looked like she was on display, and I wanted to take her picture. I also took a nice photograph of some retiring cattle and of horses crossing.

The Grand Parade: One of the highlights of the Royal Easter Show is the Grand Parade. I was wandering through the cattle pavilions on a warm afternoon when I snapped this photograph of some of the participants preparing for the parade. If you were on the back of a truck dressed as a princess, surrounded by other people dressed as chickens, you would probably have the same look on your face.

Arts & Crafts: To be honest, I wasn’t all that impressed with the arts and crafts this year. I didn’t see anything truly memorable among the paintings and photographs, and thematically, the works could have come from any time in history. In cake decoration, I noticed a trend towards floral imitation. The District Exhibits were nothing spectacular, although I agreed with the “People’s Choice” decision for Northern NSW, as I thought the moving butterfly was very good. I quite liked the first prize jams, and I thought the fruit cakes were quite good this year, with hundreds on display. Possibly the biggest fruit cake display I can recall in the many years I’ve been going to the show.

Early morning visits to the Royal Easter Show, before it turns into a carnival, are a bittersweet reminder of my life before I became a “city boy.” I didn’t grow up on a farm, but I came from a family with a deep appreciation for agriculture. Living on the outskirts of town, we had cattle just over the fence. They would often break through, and we would often see them being marched down the street on their way to market. As a child, it was also my job to jump over the fence and collect manure for the garden. I would scoop up the shit with a shovel, put it in a bucket, add water, and turn it into something suitable for my mother’s geraniums.

My rural awareness also came from my father, who grew up on a dairy farm, and my uncle Barney, who owned a mixed farm, mostly dairy, at Goonengerry, near Mullumbimby. Living in the outback for a while and on an orchard in South Australia further reinforced my personal identity as someone “from the country.”

But in the last few years, I’ve found myself leading an increasingly urban life. While most of my extended family still lives in country towns, a few of us have moved to capital cities. Aside from trips home, we don’t have all that much contact with the land anymore. And as my job has changed, I’m also having less contact with the country. I miss it.

I discussed this last night at the pub with fellow blogger Mark, who reminded me that there are great things about the city that I would miss if I moved back to the country. I guess it’s all about finding the balance between the two lifestyles I love.

So, I’m not really a city boy, and I’m not really a country boy. So what does that make me?