The moment you see a teenager trying to lead a prize-winning pig through a crowd of toddlers with ice creams, you know it's summer in Cornwall. Not the beach-lounging, pasty-eating, sea-breeze-in-your-hair Cornwall you see on travel brochures. No, this is the Cornwall of wellies, bunting, and buckets of rain trying their hardest not to dampen the spirit of an alpaca parade.

Cornwall's summer shows are a universe of their own. They exist in a parallel countryside dimension where people can spend entire afternoons discussing the intricacies of gooseberry cultivation or the optimal shine of a show pony. And they absolutely should. Because these shows aren't just about entertainment. They're a social calendar, a competitive sport, a homecoming, and a fashion statement all in one. (Straw hats and Barbour jackets, obviously.)

First up is the Royal Cornwall Show. Or as locals call it, The Big One. Held every June just outside Wadebridge, it’s a three-day affair where the entire county seems to show up wearing its best checked shirts and cleanest dogs. It has everything: prize cattle that look like they know they're fabulous, vintage tractors polished to within an inch of their metal lives, and enough scones to rebuild the Eden Project with clotted cream mortar.

The flower tent alone deserves its own TV special. You’ve never seen such gladioli. There’s a competitive aura about it too. Grown men hover anxiously over begonias while trying to pretend they’re not emotionally invested. But they are. Deeply. Entire marriages have been tested in that tent. Don’t get in the way of someone wheeling a dahlia.

Beyond the blooms, there’s an entire corner dedicated to food, which in Cornwall means a lot of cheese. Local producers set up their stalls with the kind of gusto usually reserved for battle. Sample this blue-veined wonder from Bodmin, then try this melt-in-the-mouth sheep’s milk creation from St Austell. Repeat until slightly dizzy.

If you wander off the main drag, you’ll find the steam engines. They’re enormous, greasy, and adored. Entire herds of older men, all named Dave or Ron, will happily tell you everything about how one of these beasts was rescued from a hedgerow in 1973 and now runs better than your car. You nod, partly out of interest, partly because you can’t hear over the hissing.

For equine lovers, there's showjumping and shire horses. The showjumpers are impressively agile; the shires are impressively majestic. Somewhere in between, there’s a children’s pony fancy dress class which is unmissable if only to witness the sheer creativity of dressing a small pony as a pirate ship.

But the Royal Cornwall Show is just the start. All across the county, villages and towns host their own summer exhibitions, each with its own peculiar charm.

Take the Stithians Show, billed confidently as the largest one-day agricultural show in Cornwall. It’s a sensory overload in the best way. There are chickens that look like disgruntled hair models, ferret races that defy all logic, and horticultural displays that make your local garden centre look like a neglected allotment.

Then there’s Camborne Show, smaller but proudly so. Camborne doesn’t mess around. It’s got proper wrestling, a classic car parade, and an alarmingly competitive dog show where even the sausage dogs look smug. Bring a picnic, stay all day, and leave with a sunburn shaped like your sunglasses.

Launceston Agricultural Show, on the other hand, likes to throw in a bit of everything. One minute you’re watching sheep being judged, the next you’re trying to choose between six types of locally made ice cream while a jazz band plays suspiciously upbeat tunes. It’s a charming collision of farming, feasting, and flugelhorns.

Let’s not forget the art and craft exhibitions dotted through the summer calendar like sea glass on a beach. The Cornwall Crafts Association sets up shop at Trelissick and elsewhere, displaying work that ranges from delicate pottery to large abstract wood sculptures that look like they were designed by trees with anxiety. It’s all for sale, of course, so you too can own a ceramic mackerel wearing a crown.

In Truro, the Lemon Street Gallery serves up some of Cornwall’s best contemporary art, especially in July when the summer exhibition season is in full swing. Expect bright canvases, sea-sprayed abstraction, and the odd attempt to paint the weather (spoiler: it usually involves clouds). The atmosphere is quiet and reverent, which contrasts nicely with the man outside trying to sell cider out of a converted pram.

Falmouth’s Poly Arts Centre can’t be ignored either. Their summer schedule usually includes a mad and glorious mix of photography, textiles, student showcases and live performances. You might go in for a painting and leave with tickets to a one-woman play about the life of a Cornish fisherwoman told entirely through interpretive dance.

And for those who like their exhibitions a bit more...unexpected, there’s the World Tin Bath Championships in Redruth. It's not technically an exhibition, but it’s definitely a spectacle. Contestants climb into old tin baths and race each other across water in a glorious celebration of Cornish ingenuity, stubbornness, and questionable risk assessments.

The whole county seems to operate on a parallel clock during summer. Weekends vanish into fairgrounds, show rings, beer tents and raffle tickets. There’s always someone in costume, always someone selling fudge, and always someone trying to reverse a livestock trailer into a tight space with 400 spectators and a commentator.

It’s also, in its own chaotic way, quite beautiful. Cornwall’s shows and exhibitions aren’t just traditions. They’re declarations. Statements that say: yes, we still care about who can grow the longest runner bean. Yes, we think it matters whether your goat has better posture than mine. Yes, we will queue an hour for a cup of tea in a tent because the lady pouring it does it right and the cups don’t collapse at the sides.

And people keep coming back. Generations pass through these muddy arenas. Children graduate from painting competition entrants to junior cattle handlers. Teenagers work the burger vans or play trumpet in the town band. Retired teachers judge jam. No one really leaves. They just shift roles.

Of course, the weather never behaves. It’s either sunstroke or sideways rain. But no one minds. Rain just adds drama to the tug-of-war. And if the sun shines, well then you’ve got the full magic: the scent of hay, the lowing of prize bulls, the clink of pint glasses, and the sound of a sheep loudly disapproving of everything.

So if you find yourself in Cornwall this summer, don’t just go for the coastlines and castles. Get to a show. Watch someone shear a sheep while explaining Brexit. Try elderflower gin made by someone named Mags. Applaud the dog agility course like your life depends on it. Buy a tea towel printed with pigs in sunglasses.

Because Cornwall in summer is many things. But most delightfully of all, it’s gloriously, eccentrically alive.