Heavy horses, immaculate ponies, wet wipes for sheep and the people who make one of our favourite local shows what it is.
“That Shire is knock-kneed. Look at how it’s turning its back legs.”
We were sitting on a straw bale beside the main ring at Rosedale Show, watching the heavy horses, when we heard the conversation behind us. We looked again, but could see absolutely nothing wrong with it. Fortunately, the judge knew rather more than we did and, a few minutes later, the apparently knock-kneed Shire was awarded first place.
That rather sums up one of the things we love about Rosedale Show. From the outside it looks wonderfully relaxed, but underneath it all there is a huge amount of knowledge, pride and competitiveness. Rosedale is one of our favourite local agricultural shows, small enough to wander around easily but big enough to have everything you hope to find at a proper country show, all against that glorious view across the dale towards Chimney Bank.
The people are half the show
For us, the people are probably the best part. We found Andy in the sheep pens, wearing his trademark deer stalker hat and giving the black faces of his sheep a final clean with wet wipes before judging. Andy is one of those local farmers you generally hear before you see. His sheep graze the common land outside Appleton and regularly wander through the village, so we always know when he is around checking on them. Having finished tidying up the sheep, Andy kindly offered to give Ian’s face a clean as well. Ian declined.
Elsewhere, Sue, Ian’s domino partner, seemed to spend most of the day rushing backwards and forwards between the horse judges and the announcer’s caravan. Inside was Adam Collier, another familiar local character and exactly the right person to be commentating on a Yorkshire agricultural show. As well as running the local undertaking business, Adam is a performer and storyteller who celebrates traditional North Riding dialect, and his announcements come with the driest Yorkshire humour. We particularly enjoy his mounting despair as he gives yet another final call for competitors who are apparently nowhere near the ring.
All around them are the volunteers who make the show work. They are directing cars, stewarding classes, answering questions and keeping everything moving, usually while managing to look remarkably cheerful. We understand Rosedale has a reputation for feeding its volunteers particularly well throughout the day, which seems a sensible way of making sure they all come back again next year.
From tiny ponies to heavy horses
The horse classes are always one of our highlights, especially the tiny children perched very seriously on equally tiny ponies. Everything is turned out to perfection: hair neatly in nets, boots polished, jodhpurs spotless and ponies gleaming, with the adult leading them often dressed to coordinate, right down to the hat. The young handler classes start at six and under, then seven to ten and eleven to fifteen, and watching them you can see how naturally knowledge is passed from one generation to the next.
Later, one little girl walked past us in jodhpurs and boots carrying an enormous silver cup she had won. She looked immensely proud, and rightly so.
At the other end of the scale are the heavy horses, which seem to pull half the showground towards the main ring. People settle onto the straw bales and benches to watch these enormous animals trot past, and from where we were sitting there were a few moments when we wondered whether they would actually stop before reaching us. Their manes and tails are plaited with intricate ribbons, every horse groomed until it shines, and this year there were also two long-legged foals being judged alongside their mothers. We couldn’t choose between them, which was probably further confirmation that nobody should ever ask us to judge a horse class.
The things you never knew could be judged
Of course, horses and sheep are only part of it. One of the pleasures of an agricultural show is discovering the range of things people can become intensely competitive about. There were hay bales lined up for serious inspection and a scarecrow competition where first prize went to a Rosedale miner complete with a little trolley of coal. Dogs were everywhere too, in every conceivable shape, age and size, and for once we felt rather conspicuous because we hadn’t brought one.
Sadly, the vegetables, fruit, flowers, baking and crafts were still being judged while we were there, so we couldn’t get inside for a proper look. After our recent adventures at the Appleton village produce show, we were very keen to assess the opposition. It was probably just as well we weren’t allowed in.
The first mug
One of our favourite conversations of the day happened in the craft tent. We stopped to talk to a potter whose work caught our eye, and since our own recent attempt at throwing pots, we now understand rather better how much skill is involved. She had clearly been making them for many years, while we confessed to being complete beginners and ridiculously proud of our rather misshapen first mugs.
“You never forget that first mug,” she told us. “You only ever have that experience once.”
It stayed with us because it seemed to fit the whole day. Everywhere we looked there were people who had spent years learning how to do something well, alongside children who were just beginning. The skills might be different, from showing a pony to handling sheep or throwing a pot, but the same thread ran through all of them.
Old traditions and new flat whites
There is plenty at Rosedale that has nothing to do with judging too. The showground was full of beautifully polished tractors, from vintage machines to enormous modern ones, and stalls showcasing local food and businesses. There was excellent Rosedale goat’s cheese, proper Scotch eggs, glamorous country wear from Crowberry Wood and, because even the traditional agricultural show has moved with the times, a very respectable flat white.
Ian also discovered that he had moved with the times in another way. At the gate, he asked the young woman taking admission money what age counted as a senior and discovered that he now qualifies. Saving £2 on his ticket ought to have been good news, but she accepted his claim without even slightly questioning whether he was old enough. He was devastated. Jackie tried pointing out that, when we were teenagers, everyone over 40 looked ancient to us. It didn’t seem to help.
Why these shows matter
It would be easy to think of Rosedale simply as a good day out, but shows like this say quite a lot about the communities around them. There is a fierce pride in doing things well and plenty of competitiveness, even among people who insist they are not really bothered about winning. There are three generations together, sometimes perhaps four, with skills and knowledge being passed down almost without anyone making a fuss about it. The same look of concentration appears on the face of a six-year-old leading an animal into the ring as you see on someone who has been showing livestock for most of their life.
There is also the simple fact that people see one another. Farming can be a solitary life and it is particularly challenging at the moment, so these shows matter as much for the conversations around the edge of the ring as they do for the rosettes. Old friends catch up, neighbours compare notes and everyone mucks in to get animals washed, brushed and looking their best.
We always let guests staying at the Long Barn know if one of the local agricultural shows falls during their stay. Over the last few years, every group who has gone to Rosedale has come back saying how much they enjoyed it, and we think part of the reason is that it never feels like a polished visitor attraction. It still feels like a real show, made by and for the people who live here.
As we made our way back through the car park, families were sitting beside their cars having picnics and looking down over the showground, with Rosedale stretching away behind it. Perhaps that is why these little shows are so special. You don’t simply go to Rosedale Show to watch. For a few hours, you sit on a straw bale and become part of it.
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