The competitive edge

Last weekend, one of the biggest events in the local horticultural calendar took place. It's not cool, and it doesn't have bells on. But it's still great in its own right, and it has a special place in my heart: the local Village Show. 

If you're struggling to imagine what this entails, just picture a bowling club function room, the perimeter delineated with makeshift tables, and a further row of tressles filling the centre of the room. At 8am, the tables are empty; by 10:30am, they are gradually filling with all sorts of flowers, vegetables, fruit and handicrafts, carefully sorted by category. 

An elderly gentleman is shuffling photos (class C: handicrafts) to make his snaps more prominent. Children run, carrying pristine miniature gardens and vegetable animals (all the children's own work, the parents vouch). The dahlia man has been lurking outside to keep his blooms fresh, and enters at the last minute, passing ruddy faces that are scrutinising marrows of impossible proportions.

At 11:30am, the room is vacated, and only the judges remain. Assessing each entry to (slightly wobbly) judging criteria, they determine the success of your produce, and place beside three entries from each category a red card (for first place), a yellow card (for second), or a blue (for third). Lucky entrants from each class may be given green cards for best in show or special commendation - and all come with generous cash prizes.

It's superbly parochial - it's middle-England at its best. Even taking the children's entries into account, the average age must be over 60. There are gaggles of scones-eaters and tea-drinkers and islands of slightly awkard old men.

But I'm a sucker for it. I've entered something every year since I was a tot and progressed from the children's categories to the sections for 'real' flowers and veg. I'm a veteran, and I'm not ashamed to say it. So what is it that keeps me coming back year after year?

Prize carrots, age 8

Nice roots, age 17

There's certainly an element of pride involved. That's not to say it's about showing off, but there's a strange satisfaction in seeing your produce displayed alongside others' and in having the fruits of your labour appreciated - even if they are comically bad.

Not much improvement, age ??

For me, another aspect is inspiration. The Village Show is a necessary annual top-up of enthusiasm for me as an amateur horticulturist and lover of crafts. The seasoned pros bring carrots longer than you could ever imagine, perfect victoria sandwiches, and impeccable specimens of gladiolus. And a vain, competitive, almost primal part of you thinks: maybe I could grow carrots that long, make a victoria sponge that perfect, foster gladioli so impeccable. 

But the competitive aspect of the Show doesn't just give amateurs aspirations. It gives the gardener and amateur craftsperson, who, for 364 days a year sees visible zeds across the faces of others when they mention the wellbeing of their onions, the feeling that they are not gardening or crafting in a vacuum. Fundamentally, it creates a sense of community, of shared journeys and common battles. It's by discussing these - the what and the why and the how of pests and disease and exploding ovens - that you learn. 

And you know what? Next year, that learning may just give you the competitve edge!