They came from far and wide in their mud-encrusted 4x4s. Not the kind you'd see pulling up outside Peter Jones on Sloane Square... but the kind more used to hauling a stricken ewe off a bleak mountainside.As the rural hinterlands of Dorset emptied out, so the multi-storey car park at the Bournemouth International Centre filled with hard working cars which - like their occupants - were not usually seen around these parts.The crowd surged into the 4,000-seater B.I.C. in large loud swathes, giant ruddy-faced men, women and children, laughing and bantering like people who hadn't seen each other in months. Many were dressed identically in smart checked shirts, olive green gilet body warmers, flat caps and working trousers and boots. Or 'sheep chic' as one described it.
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