T HE ROYAL WELSH SHOW tempts its 250,000 visitors with competition, spectacle and wackiness. There are lumberjack contests, plastic cows to “milk” and lots of farm machines to ogle. Roaming the fields are the Prince of Wales, a bunch of Zulu warriors and the regimental goat of the Royal Welsh.

It is the show’s centenary, but there is little else to celebrate. Agricultural productivity growth in Britain has lagged behind that of America, France and Germany since the 1960s. Veganism is fashionable. Now Brexit threatens to up-end subsidies; if Britain leaves the European Union without a deal, exporters could be hit by steep tariffs on products like lamb. “We’re in a bit of a pickle,” says Dennis Ashton, a farmer in tweed jacket and flat cap. “If I was young again, I wouldn’t start.”

Yet plenty are. The show has a separate “young people’s village”, with DJ s and 4,000 campers. One caravan is christened a “passion wagon”. “There was some passion there earlier,” smirks a neighbour. Four in ten English farmers have a nominated successor within the family, a slight increase on recent years. Since 2013 the number of agriculture students in Britain has risen in line with overall higher-education trends.

Many are the children of farmers. About four in five students at Coleg Cambria Llysfasi, an agricultural college, have farming backgrounds. “It’s in the blood,” says Llyr Jones, 18, who began helping on the family farm when he was seven. “I’ve always been tractor mad.” But some lack that excuse. Molly Hodge, an 18-year-old, got her first job on a farm last month. Her mother manages a casino; her father works in construction. Her motivation is the same as that of farmers for generations: to work outdoors.

Oddly, Brexit has enhanced the appeal for some. Even those who voted for it (as most farmers did) think it will unleash at least a decade of agricultural upheaval. “You’ve got to be ballsy about it,” says Andrew Fisher, 23, on his annual holiday from the farm. Dafydd Jones, the 29-year-old chairman of the Welsh young farmers’ association, casts it as nothing less than a battle for the Welsh soul. “Everyone loves a challenge,” he says. “We can farm like we’ve never farmed before.” More prosaically, the domestic farm lobby could become far more powerful after Brexit.

As farming begins to make better use of data and drones, it is becoming a little more appealing to those who are reluctant to get up at five in the morning to milk the cows. Automation will allow farmers to work more sociable hours, says Dewi Jones of Coleg Cambria. “Traditionally it was a lot of menial work,” he says. “It’s up to us to make it attractive, otherwise it sounds a little bit like you’re the kid who’s been sent up a chimney.”■

Correction (July 30th 2019): An earlier version of this article stated that the regimental goat belonged to the non-existent Royal Welsh Guards. In fact, it belongs to the Royal Welsh. This has been corrected.