ONE of my oldest friends, let’s call her Old Rosie, persuaded me to enter some of the classes in the Chale Show a couple of weeks ago.

I had form. In 1977, when I was 12, our village, Merstone, held a summer show.

I entered the kids’ cake competition with a chocolate cake decorated with chocolate leaves my Granny Charlie had showed me how to make. The curator of the show, Aunty Vera, decided my cake deserved to go in a class of its own, so I won!

At Chale, I entered the novice vegetables, potatoes, runner beans, peppers, courgettes, cherry tomatoes, herbs and sweet-peas, plus a ‘container of growing flowers,’ a ‘tea-time chocolate treat using chocolate’ and a ‘cold tea loaf’ (using recipe supplied).

My tomatoes refused to play ball. On the morning of the show, I had one ripe one.

Three days prior to the show, gale force winds blew down my runner bean wigwams and most of my sweet-peas.

My herbs had taken a hit and also looked past their best.

My lovely ‘container of growing flowers’ had had most of the flowers blown off, and the rest were a bit dead.

We managed to salvage what we could, dug the potatoes out of the compost heap, harvested the courgettes, managed to find five sweet-peas, took the container anyway.

My big hope was on the cakes.

Now, I know it’s all about the taking part, but my pants would be currently aflame if I said there wasn’t a little part of me that wanted to win.

Especially against Rosie.

I decided to pull all the stops out and threw masses of white, milk and dark chocolate chips on top of my brownies as soon as they came out of the oven.

I then made piping bags out of baking parchment and piped lines of chocolate up and down all over. They looked amazing.

My tea loaf looked pretty good too.

It was great fun setting up early on Saturday morning.

The huge marquee was bustling with people rushing round with vases, cake tins, handicrafts and flowers.

The atmosphere was happy, yet slightly competitive in the best possible way.

I saw what must have been the biggest parsnips, carrots and onions in the world, and a spaceman.

It was a diverse and wonderful display.

The judging was brutal! I came nowhere in eight classes but did get a third for my ‘container of growing flowers.’

Guess how many entrants there were in that class? (Clue: three).

It was the best fun.

Planning, making, setting up, attending the show, being judged and collecting my envelope of winnings — £2, thank you very much — was superb entertainment and it was great to be and feel a part of this wonderful community event. Hats off and thanks to the organisers and volunteers.

PS. Rosie and her mother battered me this year. Next year, ladies.