How to Organise a Village Show, Marrow Classes and All

I remember standing in the middle of the village green back in ’94, watching a committee spend three hours debating the precise shade of bunting for the marquee, while the actual tea tent was missing a kettle and the raffle prizes were sitting in the back of a damp van. It’s a common mistake, thinking that a successful event is about the expensive bits or the fancy brochures. If you want to learn how to organise a village show that actually works, you have to stop worrying about the glossy extras and start focusing on the logistics that keep people from walking away unhappy.

I’m not here to give you a corporate manual or a list of lofty ideals that fall apart the moment it starts to drizzle. Instead, I’m going to give you the practical, unvarnished truth based on thirty years of sitting in drafty parish halls and watching what actually makes a community turn up. I’ll tell you which tasks to delegate, which volunteers are worth your time, and how to manage the unpredictable chaos of a local event without losing your mind.

Setting the Foundation With Essential Village Show Committee Roles

Now, before you start worrying about the marquee or the tea urns, you need a team. You can’t do this alone, and if you try, you’ll find yourself standing in the middle of the village green at 4:00 PM with nothing but a damp clipboard and a headache. When we were looking at the village show committee roles for the committee last year, we realised it isn’t about finding people with fancy titles; it’s about finding people who actually show up. You need a Treasurer who knows their way around a ledger—not someone who treats the petty cash like a suggestion—and a Secretary who can actually send an email without it getting lost in the parish inbox.

I always suggest splitting the heavy lifting into clear pockets. You’ll want someone dedicated to managing show entries and prizes, someone who doesn’t mind the tedious task of checking that Mrs. Higgins’ prize-winning marrow actually meets the height requirements. Then, you need a person for the logistics—the one who knows which gates at the playing fields stick in the rain. It’s less about a formal hierarchy and more about ensuring no single person is left holding the bag when the first rain cloud rolls in over the downs.

A Practical Community Event Planning Checklist for Real People

Now, once you have your committee sorted, you need to get your hands dirty with the actual logistics. I’ve found that a decent community event planning checklist shouldn’t be a thirty-page document that sits in a folder; it needs to be a living thing. Start with the basics: the toilets, the power, and the insurance. If you’re looking at the village green, remember it’s a different beast than the church field—the drainage near the old oak is notoriously poor if we get a wet June. You need to walk the site, measure the distances between the tea tent and the livestock pens, and ensure your village show venue requirements are met before the first marquee pole goes in the ground.

Don’t forget the paperwork that keeps the peace. You’ll need a clear system for managing show entries and prizes, otherwise, you’ll have a queue of frustrated gardeners at the judging table asking why their marrow wasn’t weighed. Keep a simple ledger for the entries and make sure the prize ribbons are bought well in advance. It sounds small, but if you run out of blue rosettes by noon, the locals will remember it far longer than they’ll remember the quality of the jam.

Five things I’ve learned from watching shows succeed (and fail)

• Don’t over-rely on the same five people. I know that well; if you only ask the same three retirees to man the gate every year, they’ll eventually stop answering the phone. You need to find the younger families or the newcomers who haven’t yet realised how much work a raffle actually is. Get them involved early, even if it’s just for an hour on the Sunday.
• Check the ground before you commit to a layout. I spent thirty years looking at drainage, and I can tell you that the field behind the church looks lovely in July, but if we get a week of heavy rain, it becomes a bog that’ll swallow a marquee whole. Always have a Plan B for a damp field, preferably involving some gravel or a very sturdy bit of bunting.
• Keep the food simple and local. You don’t need a gourmet food truck from the city; you need the lady from three doors down who makes a decent Victoria sponge and a local butcher who can provide decent sausages. People come to a village show for the taste of the place, not for something they could get at a high street chain.
• Watch your timings. I’ve seen shows that try to cram too much into a single afternoon, leaving everyone exhausted and grumpy by 3:00 PM. It’s better to have a steady, unhurried flow—a bit of music, a few judged competitions, and enough time for people to actually sit down and talk to one another.
• The “small stuff” is what people remember. It isn’t the grand prize in the flower show that sticks; it’s whether there was enough shade for the old folks and whether the bins were emptied before they overflowed. If the basics are sorted, the rest of the day usually takes care of itself.

The Essentials to Remember

Don’t try to do it all yourself; a village show survives on a committee of people who actually turn up, not just those who agree to the idea in a meeting.

Plan for the reality of the weather and the terrain, because a sudden downpour or a muddy field can turn a well-intentioned afternoon into a logistical headache.

Focus on the small things that make people stay, like ensuring there is enough seating and that the tea is actually hot, rather than getting bogged down in overly complicated competitions.

## The Heart of the Matter

“You can buy the finest marquee in the county and hire the best sound system, but if you haven’t sat down with the people who actually live on the lanes and asked what they want to see, you aren’t organising a village show—you’re just running a very expensive, very lonely parade.”

Gordon Ellery

A Final Word Before You Get to Work

At the end of the day, organising a show isn’t about having a perfect spreadsheet or a marquee that sits perfectly level on the grass—though, as anyone who’s tried to pitch a tent on a slope in the village green knows, that’s easier said than done. It comes down to the basics we’ve discussed: getting the right people in the right roles, ticking off your practicalities well before the first tea urn is plugged in, and making sure you aren’t trying to carry the whole weight of the parish on your own shoulders. If you’ve managed your committee well and kept your checklist close, you’ve already done the hardest part of the job. The rest is just logistics and a bit of luck with the weather.

I’ve seen many a village show come and go over the decades, from the old timber-framed halls to the modern marquees, and the ones that truly stick in the memory aren’t the ones that were most professional, but the ones that felt most like home. A village show is more than just a way to raise a few pounds for the church roof or the local school; it is the glue that holds us together when the winters get long and the lanes get quiet. So, don’t let the paperwork daunt you. Get out there, talk to your neighbours, and build something that makes people proud to live here.

Frequently Asked Questions

How much should we actually be setting aside for the marquee and the insurance, given how much prices have gone up lately?

Now, don’t let the quotes from the marquee companies give you a fright; they’ve gone up, certainly, but they aren’t magic. For a decent mid-sized canvas that won’t leak on the jam competition, I’d budget at least £600 to £800. As for insurance, don’t skimp. I’ve seen too many small committees get caught out. Set aside roughly £200 for public liability. It’s better to have that cushion than to be staring at a claim you can’t cover.

What’s the best way to get the younger families involved so it isn't just the same ten people doing all the heavy lifting every year?

The trouble is, if you ask a young family to “join the committee,” they hear “three-hour meetings in a drafty village hall.” They won’t do it. Instead, ask them for something specific and short-lived. Ask a parent to manage the bouncy castle for an hour, or a teenager to run the playlist. If you give them a task that has a clear start and finish, they’ll show up. Once they’ve helped, they’re much more likely to stay.

If the weather turns sour, like we saw last July, what’s the realistic plan for moving the stalls without causing a total headache?

The trick isn’t planning for sunshine; it’s planning for the inevitable downpour. I’ve seen many a show ruined because people waited until the first drop fell. You need a designated “Plan B” site—ideally the village hall or the school marquee—pre-cleared and ready. Don’t try to move everything; prioritise the perishables and the heavy gazebos. If you haven’t mapped out the quickest walking routes for the heavy stalls by mid-morning, you’re asking for a headache.

About Gordon Ellery

I have valued enough houses to know that a place is not its postcode. What makes somewhere worth living in is the bus that actually turns up, the shop that stays open, the neighbour who takes your bins in. That is what I write about. If I tell you a roof needs work or a walk takes forty minutes, it is because I have been up there and I have walked it.