We normally go to Balmoral Show every year as a family, but this year, for various reasons, we were unable to attend, much to the displeasure of the children.

Seeing as I hadn’t been to the Ploughing in three years and the two youngest children had never been, I promised that I would bring them to the Ploughing in the autumn to make up for missing Balmoral.

And although they didn’t really know what the ploughing was, everyone was happy with that and I was no longer in the bad books.

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Going to the Ploughing is a much bigger commitment and effort than going to Balmoral.

Eight hours’ driving instead of three for a start with either and overnight stay or else a very long day.

So, the closer we got to the date, especially with the way the weather was shaping up and the reports that the site was quite muddy before the show even started, the more I was starting to have second thoughts.

But there was no turning back, everyone was told they were going to the Ploughing and seeing as that involved a day or two off school, no one was having any of my excuses.

Off we set on Tuesday morning at 4am. The back seat of the jeep loaded with travel pillows and blankets and enough cuddly toys that could start a toy shop, so that everyone could have a good sleep on the way down.

There was much debate between myself and Dawn as to which route we should take to get to Tullamore.

Down through Enniskillen and Cavan was the most direct route and according to our good friend google maps was the fastest route by 10 minutes, but we both agreed that going through Sligo and Athlone would be a better road and worth the extra 10 minutes.

We made good progress and didn’t stop until we were half an hour from the site. A quick toilet and coffee stop and on we went, and we arrived in the parking field at 7.50am.

Delighted with ourselves we got out the flask and sandwiches. We wanted to get the eating out of the way so we could get a clear run at the day.

The next debate was if we really needed the wellies or would we be okay in the boots.

We were parked in a stubble field that was as dry as the road and the forecast was to be dry all day, so the decision was made that the kids would wear wellies, but me and Dawn would chance the boots.

There was great excitement when we got to the top of the site and the kids could see the vast size of it and the number of tents.

Everyone had shopping on their minds and money burning a hole in their pockets.

Katie our six-year-old asked were we allowed to go into every tent and which one had the toys in it. That’s the one we should be heading for first.

I tried to explain that we would start at one end, zigzag up and down through the rows trying to get to the other end before we ran out of time and at some point in the day we would find the toys.

Katie was not at all sure if that was the best plan but decided she would give it a try. The plan was to leave for home at 4pm. But as usual that plan went quickly out the window, when at 1pm, we weren’t even half way through and still no toys had been purchased or even located.

All the shopping was at the far end of the site and I kept explaining we would get there eventually, which we did.

At 6.30pm, we finally got back to the jeep. Arms full of toys, sliotars, jumpers, jerseys and God knows what else.

No cattle stick though, which had been on the original shopping list, but I don’t think we saw the right colour. Everyone was tired and weary, but happy as Larry.

A few tins of Red Bull were needed to get me back up the road, as everyone else slept around me. It’s hard to beat a day out at the Ploughing.