TEMPERATURES hit 26C yesterday afternoon, forcing spectators to seek solace under trees and in buildings.

It was a bit too much for some, and the paramedics were kept busy rounding up the victims, squeezing emergency vehicles through crowds which yesterday reached an all-time high.

Coldest place on the showground is the dairy products section, in the South Glamorgan Hall, which is kept at a constant 10-12C.

Needless to say, hot-and-bothered visitors suddenly found the cheese displays strangely compelling.

Second coldest place is the press room, which for the assembled hacks and photographers offers a welcome respite from regular showground dashing.

I'm thinking of selling tickets.

An innovation in the press room is a commercial coffee machine provided by those nice people from McDonald's. Brownies too, but only in moderation.

McDonald's press officers have been wandering around all week offering to make coffee and handing out blueberry muffins.

Best use of a press officer ever devised.

Not sure McDonalds has derived much press coverage from such bribery. But it's left me with a cosy warm glow towards the fast food giant; and a slightly enlarged girth too.

ROYAL Welsh staff are getting a bit excited about the attendance at this year's show.

Wednesday's final figure came in at 69,832. Someone mentioned it was seven more than the previous one-day record. Not sure if it's true - guess we'll find out later.

The traffic problems appear to have eased too. The much vaunted park-and-ride system seems to be working after Monday's teething difficulties.

During the first-day rush hour some northern visitors apparently took two hours from Llandrindod Wells to the showground. It's a trip that, on a non-show day, would normally take 10 minutes.

One rumour going around lays the blame on the scheduling of drivers, who began working at 7am on Monday, as arranged.

Apparently no one had realised they are obliged to take a break after four hours: so at 11am all downed tools for a 40-minute coffee break while visitors hung around in ever-growing queues.

Again, don't know if it's true, but it sounds plausible.

MUCH better journey to the Royal Welsh showground this morning, thank you. Last night organisers promised to fine-turn the show's new park-and-ride system: perhaps it was my imagination, but motorists were being waved straight through, irrespective of car stickers, which seems to negate the purpose of having a park-and-ride system at all.

Maybe it will come into effect later in the day, when the rush hour begins.

Each year parking becomes a bigger issue at the Royal Welsh. Fuel prices are on the rise, but Llanelwedd is a venue which offers few alternative forms of transport, especially from the north.

Park-and-rides schemes are really the only long-term solution. I just wish they'd put them on the right side of the road: on both northern approaches motorists must cross over to reach the car parks, requiring a three-way traffic light system.

On the way out last night, I stopped for a moment by the BBC building (the tardis is still there) to watch the Cossack riders. All the horsemen are cossack caricatures - shaven heads and goatee beards - but, boy, can they ride.

They provided fantastic entertainment, and the Royal Welsh crowds, which are steeped in equine knowledge, were very appreciative.

They finished just before 9pm, just as the sun was casting over low shadows over the surrounding hills. It was a beautiful scene.

IT'S now 8pm and I've just bumped into Glyn Owens, the Ruthin auctioneer.

He looked quite pleased to see me. In fact he looked quite pleased so see everyone on the showground. And not just because he had a winning ticket in the commercial lamb classes today.

"Had a bit to drink," he smiled. "Just to celebrate."

He was being propped up by a very attractive lady. Or was it the other way round?

"I'm off to wash my bullocks for the morning," he said with an unsteady wave.

At least I think that's what he said.

ONE down, three to go. The opening day of the Royal Welsh has, all things considered, been one of the best for years.

Rain? What rain? The sun beat down on Llanelwedd from the start of the day until the end, producing a one or two red faces.

They included, I couldn't help noticing, show director Harry Fetherstonhaugh, who has been dashing around the showground trying to traffic hiccups in between hosting Princess Anne.

It was the Princess Royal's sixth agricultural show of the season. By now she must be suffering show fatigue, Royal Welsh bosses admitted.

But Her Highness went home with three Duff Orpington chickens, courtesy of the Royal Welsh Agricultural Society, and two truckles of Black Bomber cheese, so she seemed happy enough.

By lunchtime it was getting quite hot. I almost felt sorry for the two dwarves hired to wear sheep outfits to publicise a new S4C childrens series.

They were only allowed inside the costumes for 20 minutes at a time, less they overheat - unlike the young farmer forced to wear a giant pair of red lips for most of the morning.

Red lips? Don't ask, it's what young farmers do.

Those magnificent men in their vintage machines have just finished their display of restored tractors in the cattle ring.

Staged by the Clwyd Vintage and Classic Tractor Society, I know how hard many of them have worked to get the collection down to Builth Wells.

I was looking out for the Ivel, Britain's oldest tractor, but didn't see it. Apparently it's worth a cool £250,000.

Hope no one's nicked it.

HERE we are again, back at Llanelwedd for another Royal Welsh. Llanelwedd is in great shape: hard to believe that the green carpet on the main ring was last year's muddy mess.

So far, so good. Yesterday saw the usual organised chaos amongst the livestock sheds as trailers jostled to unload their precious cargoes. Somehow it always works out in the end, which is more than can be said about last year's parking arrangements.

During the 2007 show a Royal Welsh grandees ticked me off for daring to suggest the parking arrangements were not up to scratch. It was the weather, stupid, and no one's complaining.

That wasn't quite my experience. My ears are still burning from the public's opprobrium. Even the country's chief vet got a £28 parking ticket rather than face the three-hour wait to have her car hauled into a quagmire, which is what most of us experienced.

In the last couple of months the Royal Welsh Agricultural Society has been busy issuing press notices re-assuring potential visitors that everything will be alright this time round.

To its credit, the society hasn't hung around. It's spent a lot of money weather-proofing car parks. It's re-organised lay-outs. And it's re-inforced its park-and-ride schemes to ferry punters in from out-lying car parks.

Hopefully motorists will play ball. Or will they just continue to be "stupid", as one society official labelled them in public last year?

My journey to the showground from Llandrindod Wells this morning took twice as long as it did in 2006. Long queues formed in advance of temporary traffic lights erected by the park-and-ride turn-off from the A483. I came early, so Lord knows what it'll be like at rush hour.

As the park-and-ride car park was on the opposite side of the road, a three-week traffic management system was in operation. Had it been on the near side, delays would be halved.

In the road, marshals furiously waved cars without Royal Welsh stickers into the car park. One worries that elderly lady motorists, en route to Brecon, might find themselves inadvertently parked up for the day on the outskirts of Llanelwedd.

It's a small pain - the price motorists must pay for the success of the Royal Welsh. My journey took me 30 minutes instead of the usual 15 - still much better than last year's three-hour crawl.

AT this time of year, on the eve of the greatest rural show in western Europe, strange grimaces are silently shared by some of those preparing to attend.

I count myself among them. As awe-inspiring as the Royal Welsh is, it presents mixed emotions for those who have to work there.

For some, of course, it's a marvellous jolly. For others, it's hard labour, a 14 hours-a-day heads-down manic sprint fuelled by endless cups of lukewarm coffee.

By the end of the week trade exhibitors in particular have that far-in-the-distance look. At 3pm on Thursday you can guarantee there's a packing frenzy as stallholders dash for the exit.

For all that, the Royal Welsh retains its magic. I often wish I could come just as an ordinary punter, content to take leisurely strolls down the livestock lines or wonder at the crazy climbing antics of those mad people who fling themselves up 100ft poles for no good reason.

I envy too the livestock exhibitors. All get their 15 minutes in the limelight, some a good deal more.

And in between the showing, and the preparation, there's always plenty of time for a good natter and a few sandwiches in the pens - not to mention the night-time parties and occasional riotous assembly.

THE Royal Welsh Show attracts hoardes of day-trippers from the South Wales valleys: often their northern brethren are harder to find.

Hopefully the southern bias will be adjusted in a year that the old county of Clwyd is the sponsoring county.

Certainly there's been a magnificent fundraising effort by thousands of rural people in the north east. Over the past six months barely a day has gone by without a coffee morning, open day, promise auction or miscellaneous event.

Perhaps fundraising records won't be broken this year - there's been no generous benefactors or flush council to rely on. But in terms of the sheer effort, and the countless number of fundraising events, it's hard to imagine Clwyd's contribution ever been surpassed.

And to think the old county will have to go through the same process again in 14 years' time.

SOME 23,000 visitors attended last weekend’s Royal Welsh Smallholder Festival, around 2,000 less than last year.

I was slightly surprised: when I visited on the second day, the place was packed to the rafters, with thousands of red-faced punters hauling vintage spades and clematis plants backs to their cars.

THOUGH I say it with gritted teeth, it was good to be back in Nefyn for the opening agricultural show of the North Wales season.

It’s in a great location, is sound underfoot and has accommodating section secretaries (my thanks to Anwen and Gwen, as always). So why do I always regard the event with a certain dread?