LANARK LANIMER DAY
An ancient celebration held within the Royal Burgh of Lanark on the Thursday between the Sixth and Twelfth days of June annually since the year 1140.
 

Lanarkians' Corner

A sweet kindly breeze ruffled the grasses around the two cronies as they lay side by side on the warm turf, deeply snoring. The laughter of the children and the good-natured voices of the crowd mingled distantly with the pipe music and on this gentle summer day, peace was with the world.

The Procession had been extravagant. The Queen had been crowned. The Lord Cornets and their following had traversed the Town and had covered their time-honoured route, and now a happy and care-free crowd had assembled at the Racecourse gaily attired and in festive mood, jostling hither and thither, and all engaged in light-hearted banter - and somewhere in the very middle lay Tarn and Wull, against a bank and sound asleep.

As you would expect disturbance had to come. A favour tossed by the breeze landed lightly on Tarn's brow and he stirred, and then was awake. He sized up the situation in a flash, and reached over and gave Wull a jab that had him wakened too. 'Wull' he said, 'They're a' here!'.

'Wad ye credit it, so they are 'quoth Wull. 'We must have fell asleep'.

There was no attempt to get up. Quietly they each adjusted their positions to half-sitting against a post and a full minute elapsed before Wull grinned sheepishly and said in confiding tones 'You know, Tarn, I was dreamin' that Dick Willan won the sprint and I had a pound comin''.

'J. Brown o' Symington, ye mean' Tam chortled. 'What they used to dae ...'.

'Mind how the bookies made a packet every year' continued Wull. 'I used to gie them wrang information about the runners, but they aye seemed to get it right in time'.

'See me, I used to spy for Joe Dewson's School and neither Tam Pate or Jockie Barr or Marshal Braidwood ever tumbled to it' said Tam. ' We used to be sure we knew the winners - but we had a lot o' bad luck. I've still got ma stop watch in the drawer to this very day'.

Wull didn't reply. Tam knew he had trained desperately with Tam Pate but had never quite made the minute. Andrew Yuill had made it, and so had Willie Wilson, and so for that matter had Puffin' Sam Coulter, and Shorrie Wilson and Gavin MacPherson - but there was no sense in bringing all that up now. 'Do you mind the year Snowdon put the pint up to sixpence?' was all he said.

Tam never even heard that remark. ' The Sports have lost something' he continued. Lanimer Races were as important as the Clyde Sports and Powderhall, and Chris Lynch widna have been the handicapper if they were na. I suppose Chris Lynch was dae'in his ain spyin' too, for when Wullie Gall won the Glesga Cup and then won at Powderhall, the odds were less than they should ha' been'.

Just at that there was a thudding of galloping hooves and a hearty cheer from the crowd for the winner of the Burgh Spurs. Tam grunted in disdain. 'Hear them, Wull?' he said. 'They're a' being polite. It wad tak' the siller to make it ding again.'

'So it wad' quoth Wull. 'I rode the year Lord James Nelson was disqualified for takin' a shortcut in the Marches to save his horse for the race. Tam and Alex Capie an' Johnnie Orr an' Wullie Hamilton were ridin' that day too. These auld racehorses frae McGingans' o' Ayr could shift - a' except the wan I got!'.

The two lapsed into silence. On this warm summer day each was content to give his thoughts free rein over the years that had been brought back by their talk. Each was young again and jinking about between the cocoanut stalls and side shows, and trying to 'beat the goalie' or standing enthralled as the Royal Scots Greys gave their display, or climbing into the shilling ring, only to be chased out by James McLintock or Alex Linton. Perhaps they were recalling Gogie's dedication to the Sack Race ; perhaps they were remembering the trains that used to take the Lanimer crowds out to the Racecourse Station : perhaps it was the open buses, the cabs, the Landaus, the brakes that used to circumvent the Marches. More than likely they were remembering Cornet Elliot's barrels of free beer lined up against the wall, with Mary Muir keeping order. Whatever were their thoughts, they were content and as Wull grinned at Tam, and Tam grinned back at Wull, Tam leaned over and nudged his pal and said in tones seasoned and sombre 'Wull' he said, 'Ye canna whack it!'.