It is some time since I last visited Ayr Show, so it was with some relief that the skies were blue and the sun shone for my return this year in the capacity of judge.

Competitors regularly bemoan the state of the weather, myself included, but spare a thought for the judge who has no option but stand out in all weathers with nowhere to avoid the elements.

Rain has to be the worst, although a good tip received many years ago from a friend has made life so much more comfortable since.

“Always pack a small towel and wrap it round your neck. It stops the drips,” was her advice and it does.

There was no need for the towel last weekend and it was a pleasure, not only to be at an agricultural show of some standing, but also casting an eye on what was new as well as catching up with people I hadn’t seen for some time.

I’ve said it often and I’ll say it again – there’s nothing to beat a good agricultural show. Ayr Show may well be a far cry from the one I originally visited and I do have to wonder how the organisers continue to afford such a large marquee to house the cattle and sheep, however it has all the elements of the tradition on which is was founded and it was good to see a sizeable crowd out in support.

I thoroughly enjoyed the non-horsey banter with farming friends and needless to say the dreaded winter past and Brexit featured high on the agenda. Interestingly, it was only the former which attracted comment from the equestrian community – as I join in being totally in the dark as to how leaving the European Union will affect equestrianism.

Suffice to say it rests in the ever-lengthening list of topics under the heading ‘wait and see.’

Contrary to popular belief, I don’t do much judging but do like to take my turn and this time it included the mountain and moorland ponies shown in hand.

It is an interesting section to judge, mainly due to the diversity of breeds included. However, this in itself brings with it difficulty as the breeds are so varied.

Working on the basis that good sound conformation, freedom of action and quality are elements common to all good equines, I can usually find my winners without too much difficulty unless breed standards have been thrown to the wind.

Last weekend I found the task more of a challenge as, by and large, good sound conformation was sadly lacking particularly in the limb department. The racecourse grass was too long to be able to make a proper assessment of hooves, but small, weak joints were obvious front and back and the lack of bone and substance was common.

All the showmanship in the world can’t compensate for poor limbs in my book, so it was a ‘no brainer’ to select as champion a yearling filly with the very best of limbs who was appearing in the show ring for the first time.

Yes, she was a bit hairy and, yes, she wasn’t as forward going as some of the others, but those can be worked on whereas conformation faults remain regardless.

Funnily enough, I have always been particularly drawn to yearling fillies and enjoyed some great successes with them during my time in showing. Regardless of breed or type, they have an indefinable charismatic quality which often leaves them with age.

As I waited for the next class to appear, I couldn’t help but notice something common to almost all shows these days, a lack of order in the collecting area and scant regard for health and safety issues.

I am convinced this comes about by ignorance, rather than intent and caused by the lack of thought at best and arrogance at worst. Dogs, of which there are many at horse shows, are taken into collecting areas without any concept of potential danger as too are push chairs.

I challenge all those who take young children around shows in push chairs to take a turn themselves and see how safe they feel with horse and pony hocks and hooves at eye level. It says much for the tolerance of equines that they put up with this particular hazard.

However (dare I say it) are those with mobility problems now posing a considerable threat to health and safety. They elect to take their mobility scooters into all areas, by right as they see it, when some of the areas are definitely not designed to cater for them.

Worse still, reversing bleepers can cause mayhem as one did at a recent show. As they say, there is a time and place for everything and collecting rings are not a place for mobility scooters, push chairs or dogs in my opinion.

Show organisers are pushed as it is to find volunteers to man rings without finding others to look after collecting areas.

Talking of which, I had two excellent stewards at Ayr, one of whom knows the job inside out and keen to mentor youngsters who join him. Only experience brings an awareness of procedure as well as a working knowledge of the various society rules which always remain the responsibility of the judge.

A major issue which has arisen in recent years has been the associated paper work which now goes with the job. Long gone are the days when the only time the pen came out was to record the placings.

Most shows nowadays qualify for some end-of-season championship literally anywhere in the UK and qualifying cards have to be completed and awarded on the day. The odd special rosette is kids’ play compared to the issuing of qualifying cards and for once I’d say roll on the day when an app on the i-Phone may be the means of recording qualifiers.

I may not have been overly impressed with the standard of ponies at the show, however the standard of turnout was largely good and in some cases excellent. As much as exhibitors say that they like feedback, I tend to err on the side of caution and say nothing.

There were few ponies which were over fat despite a hard winter, one, which had obviously been beefed up in an attempt to look bigger in order to carry a young adult. It wasn’t a good image and I felt obliged to tell the exhibitor.

However, on the basis that I thought the comment would go completely over his head, I did avoid telling one leader that the bit in his pony’s mouth was so low it almost held it between its front teeth.

Such are the joys of judging and in some funny perverse way, added to my enjoyment of judging at Ayr.