I managed to drive onto one of the fields and parked my small car there, knowing it would have to be towed off. Already the mud was formidable. I began directing traffic, but it wasn't long before the only vehicles allowed on the field were four-wheel drives, and even some of them had to have a tow from the increasing number of large tractors that the farmers lent for the purpose. This didn't deter the public, however, and I am told that the queues of traffic stretched back to Threshfield.

By and large, the drivers were patient and understanding. After a few hours, I was sent to help at Conistone Bridge, where the traffic was snarled up. It took a while to reduce the tailback, but with the assistance of the excellent traffic management team, we cleared it. And still the public came.

Then someone decided to use the back road, from Conistone to Grassington as a parking lot, even though there were several free car parking areas. While the police sorted it out, we had to stop people going that way.

Most were very grateful, but a few thought we were doing it for the sake of it. One chap lost his temper, because he didn't want to be directed, took off at high revs, showering us all with mud. We had to jump out of his way or get hit. I was somewhat gratified when he returned five minutes later, having been unable to get through. To give the man his due, he had the grace to stop, and apologise. He was, I think, rather ashamed of his little tantrum.

Most people were super, and determined to enjoy the show, no matter how muddy it was. You always get the odd exception, however.

One woman wanted to leave in her horsebox, rather early. She demanded special treatment as though her needs were more important than the rest of the thousands of attendees. She was unpleasant to everyone who was trying very hard to get vehicles on, off and around the now quagmire of the show field. Then she came to me, and demanded everyone else waited while her vehicle was given priority. I said that when her vehicle presented at the gate, I would ensure it got out as soon as I could manage it.

She made some very derogatory comments about and to me, and so I offered her my fluorescent jacket, and asked her to do it better. She didn't like that and become quite offensive.

Nor did she like it when I explained to another patiently waiting woman that I would get her out of the field as soon as I had sorted the person demanding special treatment, who was behaving like an idiot. Talk about light the blue touch paper and stand back! The nice woman smiled and I got her on her way. Mrs Arrogant behaved as if no one had ever referred to her like that before, which I don't believe. Gone was the refined, "I'm important" voice, instead she started shouting like a fishwife, much to the amusement of a large crowd, who laughed heartily as she drove off in her horsebox.

I saw very little of the show, as most of the time when I was not waving my arms at the traffic, I was helping to push vehicles out of the fields, as were a number of young men, and the rest of the traffic management team. So many members of the public thanked us, and they were so pleasant, it made our efforts worthwhile.

As the ground cleared, I was no longer needed so I waded through mud, sometimes up to my thighs as I walked through the show, back to the car. I did see a bit of the harness racing, which looked wonderful. Having been towed out, I drove away just before 6pm. I got home, on very muddy roads, and then headed into work for the evening. I was a bit tired by the time I finally fell into bed.

A few days later, I went to pick up a loom I had been given from just outside Harrogate. The woman who gave it to me, having read this diary, was wonderful. She and her large and fascinating family live in my idea of heaven, with a string of dogs, ducks, some fabulous horses and Texel sheep and we were pressed to stop for home-made sandwiches and cakes with tea after loading an enormous loom on the back of my pick-up. In return, I am spinning some fleece for her. She found time to make us welcome, despite a family wedding the next day, and a host of visitors. Once home, I got the loom into the barn, did the chores, and settled down to spin.

The light is fading as I write, and there is a strange almost luminescent glow over the moor. The cloud is masking the view, and is almost eerie. There is a strange silence.

One of my Muscovy ducks has hatched five ducklings, which are adorable. I have put them in the coop for safety because there are owls and other predators, hunting.

My guest dog has gone home, and my four once more lay claim to my bed, the chairs and in front of the cooker. My exciting week has been a change, but I still love those quiet times. Now I have some spinning to do, to get ready for the Rare Breed show.