The weekend's downpour may have caused the cancellation of other agricultural shows up and down the country, but a little thing like rain was never going to stop the Moynalty Steam Threshing Festival in Co Meath.
It did, however, make it more interesting.
In the top field, a 1938 Ransomes Sims and Jefferies steam engine was slipping sideways, its massive 6ft metal wheels churning the mud. Owner Michael Barry had resorted to more modern technology, attempting to tow the steam engine with an equally massive Variofavorit 926 tractor - which was also sliding in the mud.
Nearby on a 1920 Aveling and Porter engine was Gerry Doherty from Dundalk. While essentially a stone-crusher used in road-making, Doherty said his machine could have been used to tow the odd fallen tree out of a bog, "but from the safety of dry ground", he said, looking around thoughtfully.
Further off on the banks of the Borora river, stewards were saying there would be no display of the mill and its wheel which had been running on Friday.
"The wheel was swept away a few hours ago," muttered a steward before brightening: "Sure we'll find it when the levels subside."
The rain did little to dampen the mood of 24 committee members and almost 400 stewards who were ensuring trailers carrying vintage cars and heavy farm machinery, as well as the vehicles of exhibitors and stallholders, could take up their positions.
"Let them in, let them in, we've plenty of tractors and Tullamore Show is cancelled today," said Seán Quinn, committee member and curator of the festival's permanent on-site museum.
The museum of antique farm implements in a large - and dry - barn was attracting great interest, as was the spectacle of two whole pigs slowly roasting on a spit. Butcher Pat Reilly from Cavan reckoned that, with a little mashed potato and maybe some cabbage, they could feed up to 500 people.
For those who found the sight of the pigs slowly roasting somewhat graphic, Teresa Gilsenan and a crew were making traditional boxty, colcannon and pancakes, over open turf fires. "Are they good?" we asked Mick Acton from Dunboyne, who was tucking into a pancake. "I'll have another if they're going," he said.
We nodded and watched from under the tent as literally thousands of people smiled, slipped and continued. A little rain is not the end of the world, we agreed with Mick.
