The Great British Heatwave (and Other Dog Show Catastrophes) at Plympton Castle Green

The day began with that most dependable of British institutions: a ceiling of heavy, featureless grey cloud that promised the sort of aggressively monotonous weather we have all quietly resigned ourselves to of late. With a shrug, I bundled myself into what I fondly imagined was sensible clothing, hoisted my camera bag, and set off for the Midsummer Solstice Lamb Feast in Plympton. Our specific, noble mission for the afternoon? To document the companion dog show, an event masterminded by the formidable talent that is Lauren from Plympton’s own The Dog House 47.

For the uninitiated, the Plympton Lamb Feast is a cornerstone of the Plympton St Maurice Midsummer Festival. It is an entirely free, delightfully wholesome, family-friendly community gathering staged upon the historic Castle Green, a spot where, in 1224, the Sheriff of Devon thoroughly demolished the original castle because the local lord was being historically difficult. Walking up to it today, it is the sort of quintessentially English village scene that looks so impossibly idyllic you half expect a detective from Midsomer Murders to step out from behind a burger van to investigate a suspicious death by a poisoned scone.

As we arrived, a steadily swelling throng of eager canine participants was already lining up, each doing its level best to put its best paw forward. And then, right on cue, the atmosphere shifted. The clouds abruptly parted, and summer; proper, genuine summer, made a sudden, unannounced appearance.

Now, the British are notoriously bad at handling sudden weather. Give us a drizzling November afternoon and we are masters of our domain. Give us twenty minutes of actual, direct sunlight, and society begins to unravel. This unexpected meteorological plot twist was, of course, wonderful for morale, but it left our photography team looking rather less than picture perfect. Stripped of the breeze, we found ourselves instantly reduced to a pair of red faced, sweating individuals who looked as though they had mistakenly taken a sauna while fully clothed.

Soggy photographers aside, the entire affair went swimmingly. A spectacular plethora of rosettes was enthusiastically distributed to some of the most dashingly handsome and undeniably pretty pets in the whole of Plympton. Quite how the judges manage to pick a single winner from such a dazzlingly talented pool of fluff and good manners is utterly beyond me. Personally, I’d have given a prize to them all, if only to get back into the shade.

Plympton pet show photographed by a professional photographer