CALL me paranoid but I seem to have this black cloud that follows me around. We arrived simultaneously at the Devon County Show.

Before, it was sunny. Then it thrashed down. Result, alfresco shower, no shampoo — and one rain-soaked notebook.

Still, that's agri-showbiz. Ceaseless sunshine might be uncomfortable for the cattle but the alternative inclemency is less appealing to the rest of us.

The first opportune place to dry out was the flower tent — arguably one place the encumbents might welcome a reviving shower. Here among cascades of fuchsias and exotic arrays of azaelias dwelt an altogether more sinister collection of X-certificate exhibits.

The South West Carnivorous Plants display featured an ominously well-fed show of floral pecularities that prefer air-borne instant meals rather than laboriously sucking up nutrition through the soil.

There they were, curious lime-green sentinels spelling doom for the unsuspecting. Every display says 'Do not touch' but this one carries the gravitas of a government health warning. Pitcher plants, lids ajar hoping for a little action; sundew plants, their sticky leaves primed for entrapment, all waiting patiently . . .

Maybe they could be strategically placed as anti-thief devices. Green fingers could cause the light fingered to have no fingers!

You are never at a loss to find the quirky and the curious at the County Show. Yellowstone Park came to Devon via Cumbria with some chain-saw-chiseled Yogi Bear look-alikes.

The chunky Derwent Bay Bears are popular with people fed up with pointy-hatted gnomes and chime bells.

'They are rather jolly, friendly bears' says Sue Willan who promptly introduces you to 'Barney' who sits and waves, 'Bruno' who stands and waves and 'Brewster' who 'is like a foreman standing with his hands behind his back'.

These durable wooden Bruins will grace any garden from £85 for a small chip off the old block to £130 for a tree-stump sized bear.

For a real flavour of the Rockies the splendidly-uniformed Royal Canadian Mounted Police and their immaculate horses made you want to reach for a holiday brochure.

Pre-display preparations involve meticulous attention to grooming and polishing kit to mirror-perfection.

'We do a lot of shows in our own country — but every three to four years we come to Europe,' said Constable Karen Miller.

In a soft Canadian accent she enthusiastically explained how her life's ambition had been to join this exclusive team of roving ambassadors.

At 20, her horse 'Veto' is the oldest taking part in the world famous Musical Ride.

'He has been doing it for 14 years. The youngest a horse can be in the ride is six years old.'

After they are three, horses are accepted into the RCMP stable where they are trained for three years.

'This is a special section of the police force. You have to qualify for it and usually ride for three years before going back to regular police work.

'Last year we were away for two months at a time. While you are doing this you live out of a suitcase — and you never get to the bottom of it!' laughed Karen.

'To get into this you have to have at least three years in the police so my main job was to join the RCMP.'

To achieve her ambition of getting into the musical ride Karen had to first get into the police force — a career that has seen her spend seven years in Newfoundland and two-and-a-half years in British Columbia.

'I have always had a love of horses — after 10 years I applied for the police ride. It is a good way to see the world and you get to meet a lot of nice people. It is all very positive rather than negative.'

She points out these days they don't carry out normal duties on horse back: 'We use police cars, mountain bikes and motorbikes.'

Well, thanks for the chat. 'Hey, no problem.' Ohh, that Canadian accent.

It's not just horses that get the celebrity treatment — over in the pig judging ring a cool Berkshire Black was glinting in the intermittent sun with a liberal coating of hair gel. Hey, pig, gimme five!

Goat enthusiast Ian Crowther from Okehampton Hamlets had just become the proud owner of the winning entry in the British Alpine milkers class.

'This is my first time at the Devon County Show and only my second year of showing,' said Ian, 35.

He keeps nine goats and was delighted that 'Hayley Black Shadow' — known as Shadow to her friends — did so well.

'I have always had goats since I was a child. I like goats and I like their milk. I don't like cows' milk.'

He says goats are affectionate animals but showing them takes a lot of dedication and preparation.

'A lot of people like the idea of having goats but don't realise the work involved in keeping them healthy.

'For me it is a hobby that has become a way of life. In any interest if you become bitten by the bug you have your job to pay for your hobby.

'You are only on this planet once — and I think you should do what you like when you can.'

One Devon County Show visitor that was certainly not on this planet was the manic machinations of Professor Cyberstein and his wayward seven-foot robot Hammerstein: 'Hoooow arrrre yoooou?' he demanded, crazily spiralling through the crowds.

Fine thanks. Now get me Arnold Schwartzenegger.

Uh oh! There's my cloud again. Another down-pour, and people paradoxically flee for cover in the Ales from Devon tent 'for a wet'. It's a variant of the sheep tent. Instead of 'ba, ba, ba' it's the 'bla, bla, bla' of studious Real Ale connoisseurs doing their homework.

All in the line of research you could sample delights such as 'Summa' That', 'Wallop', 'Technical Hitch', 'Heavy Sleeper' — and then fall over.

One man who kept a clear head and was rewarded with a trio of firsts sheep shearing competitor Andrew Mudge from Collaton.

Trained up by his father George — who won the open blade shearing competition —this is the first year Andrew has taken the sport seriously.

'Competing is good fun. I have entered the Bath and West in June and I will be going over to Ireland for the Five Nations Junior Championship.'

He says his abilities are down to 'hard work and good instruction'.

Sheep shearing is easier when it is warmer according to Andrew: 'The coats are more greasy and the wool cuts better.'

By the end of the morning he had sheared 11 sheep in the competitions. Sounds hard work — but it is a comparative doddle.

To polish up his skills Andrew is doing contract shearing. That means removing 100 woolly jumpers — before lunchtime . . .

In the Country Life area a rustic charmer is explaining the delights of trapping rabbits by using 'long netting'. He is aided in this with three terrier stooges 'Tiger Lilly', 'Scruff' and 'Snuff' all primed to pounce on the unsuspecting prey. A bit like carnivorous plants — only faster.

'These are not bunny rabbits' he assures the squeamish. 'They are bungy-rabbits!'

With that a toy rabbit is catapulted towards the net and pounced on by an obliging dog.

'Then we give them the coupe de bonk! When I was a lad if you bonked something it meant a hit on the head. And now . . .' he continued, throwing in a bit of contemporary observation.

This cosy bucolic insight into how some restless souls occupy themselves on moonless nights concluded with a little wry consolation for any luckless bunnies who may fall foul of such enterprise.

'The rabbit will end up in a dark warm place surrounded by carrots and potatoes — with a nice bit of crust on the top!'

Time to go home. I'd had a good day. So had my cloud.