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

The Port Vaults were packed to the door. On this the Wednesday night of Lanimer Week the paraffin lamps were barely visible through a thick haze of smoke, and the usual reflecting polished brasses were dulled. Light there was enough outside for it was still early on a sunny blue evening, but in the saloon bar there was scarce glimmer enough to see the prodigal son as he plied himself behind the counter. Tomorrow would be a great day again, so the talk was of the Lanimers, and excited talk it was because quite unexpectedly that evening Bob Lockhart had arrived back home from abroad and had dropped in to the tavern and had stood drinks all round. The newcomer took the centre of attention as the nostalgic memories of past Lanimers were recounted and then it suddenly emerged that Bob Lockhart was the oldest in the gathering and, would you believe it, he remembered the Lanimers before the first queen.

"Well it was like this," he said, "The Lanimer procession seemed to be getting smaller and lacking in spectacle. Not that anything was lacking really because as long as the Morris dancers were there there was spectacle enough, but there seemed to be a sameness year by year. Even the models and miniature houses and gardens that were carried shoulder high began to be used more than once. And so when Willie Steel the cashier at the market returned one day from a visit to Northumberland and told the committee what he had seen at a May Day there the idea of a crowning ceremony caught on quickly and the following year Grace Adams was chosen Queen and was crowned on a lorry at the Jubilee fountain."

"1893" interjected Tarn. "Ma faither telt me there were nae children in the procession the first year."

"I've heard that tae," said Wull. "The second year a' the skule kids were out for the first time, carryin' sma' birkies. Then the third year was the start of the lorries with kids packed on each."

"Talking aboot lorries, Wull, let's get ower tae the auld laundry and see what McAuslanes are makin' up this year. If we are ower late we might miss a dram!"

Tarn and Wull swiftly crossed over the Port - and they were away on their annual tour of inspection of the secret preparations for the morrow's procession. As declared their first call was to see the factory girls with Jean McAuslane supervising. And Peter gave them a dram as was expected.

Then they went up to Ninnie Barrie's hay shed to see a school tableau in the making.

Jack's factory had been moved up to Maddersmains from Furrow-flats by this time and they were made welcome there too.

And then back and through the Wellhead Close into Scott's yard in the stables behind the Station and Victoria Hotel.

It was here that they did not get hospitality - for Tarn said to Philip Scott "You'll never get that teapot oot o' there. Ye've built it too high." Which proved to be true, 'The Nation's Teapot' was there in line in the morning only after being dismantled and re-erected in an effort that lasted the whole night through. "What did ye have to say that fur," says Wull. "At least you should have waited till we had the 'gless."

Their next call was over the street to Mrs. Shand's Hotel, where no less than three entries were being prepared on the Caley yard. They patronised the Caley Bar while they were at it, then moved on in fine fettle to Lugless Wull's place where John McAuslane had recently set up his factory, and that event was to be celebrated for sure. "Come on Wull, we canna stay here a' nicht" quoth Tarn, restless to be on.

And so the two comics were to be found tramping gaily along Charing Cross and down Hyndford Road to Ferguson's the coach-builders, and by this time they were singing, and would not stop, and they thought Danny Ross and Tammie Hamilton the wee fiddler might have joined in their song, but these two had a job to do with their nails and paint-----.

From this point onward it has to be admitted that Tarn and Wull were blate. Their inspection of the lorries in Tammie Lyon's yard was from long range, just in the minute before they disappeared into the Black Bull and they would not have seen the work being done in Williamson's yard at all if they had not been steered there by kindly but insistent hands.

By the time they set off down the Delves their progression lacked dignity to say the least. They shouted uncomplimentary remarks to Nicol Aitken and young Tom Struthers at the Engineering Works; they boisterously cheered Jock Melvin and Tom Cunningham at McAuslane's, and they paid ribald respects to Miss Izzard at McDougalls. Unsteady and yet unerring they wound their way through Dandy's Park to the golden gable and they were in the Castlegate and bantering first with the Nelson family and then with Bobby Lyons who always made up Sarah Cleghorn's lorry, and then with Tarn Denholm who made a lorry every year for the young Morrisons and the Walker kids. By this time what with recurring refreshments, Tarn and Wull were undoubtedly fu'.

They ought not to have gone into Bell and Bakers but they did, and had a drappie with wee Teek Little. They ought not to have gone into Cox's but they did, and sipped the bree with Frances Veitch. The time was come when they could do no more and they turned in to Lamb's Close, leg-weary, staggering, sozzled, stotius, making their way slowly to Tarn Walker's with Wull mumbling to himself about having missed a tipple with Sandy Bisset at Purdies, and Tam quietly steering him into a bench seat in the corner. And there they sat, contented, peaceful, tired, not hearing the commotion all around, and not caring to talk but just to sit until Tam grinned at Wull and said in tones seasoned and sombre, "Wull" he said "ye canna whack it."