Claire Smith: Highland Show royally failed to sate my appetite

Published on 23/06/2012 14:48

I DID wonder whether being surrounded by the cleanest, most well groomed and good-looking farm animals in Scotland would make me reluctant to eat them.

But after ten minutes at the Royal Highland Show I was gagging for a bacon sandwich.

There was something about the damp air, the unusual preponderance of Harris tweed and the heartiness of proceedings that just screamed meat in a roll.

This was my first ever visit to the annual celebration of Scottish rural life – and there was much to enjoy.

I loved the outfits, giant tweed coats, gaiters, heather-coloured jackets, even bowler hats. And the feeling that the farming community was here in force, dressed in its Sunday best and ready for a good old gossip over the gate.

I happily browsed the tractors and the fertiliser stands and admired the impossibly fluffy prize-winning sheep in pens covered in rosettes.

“Win a trailer”, shouted the promo girls, while Miss Scotland, gracing the stand of a famous Scottish milk manufacturer was wearing her best and sweetest smile while milking a cow.

But where was the food? Despite rural affairs minister Richard Lochhead spraffing about the land of food and drink there was precious little of the stuff to hand.

Of course, there were samples. But they play hell with your food-combining principles. After some sausage, a strawberry, some Eton Mess, some crisps, some jam and lots of weird cheese, the call of the bacon roll became a roar.

Finally, I found a food stand where the guy at the serving hatch was hustling his customers like the Seinfeld Soup Nazi.

I should have cut and run right then. Imagine my distress when I handed over three quid and was handed something crammed between two soggy, sweet lumps of nasty burger bun. And then offered cheap ketchup to go with it.

Royal Highland Show - I’m a fan - but get your act together. Practice what you preach and put some decent food on the table.