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.
 

The Publican's Tale

Gillian and Kathryn wish you Happy Lanimers

Yes, the joys of childhood in Lanark one particular Thursday in June; dragged out of bed at the crack of dawn, kicking and screaming, (not unusual) but when there's no school? I ask you! Eventually, breakfasted, costumed and fully made up into whatever imaginary character I was designated to be, it was off "up the street". In the RAIN. Wearing the compulsory makeshift cagoule; which, as anyone who has been involved in Lanimers will know, is a clear plastic bag with just enough of a hole cut in the top so you don't suffocate! But then the Procession begins! The fun! The excitement! Busy, busy, busy, for the rest of the day. And there's still the Reception to look forward to!

Nowadays, it's not really so different. Up with the larks (although most of us probably didn't get to bed until after the larks were up!) and ready to face the day. You know, most people would tell you that either June 21st or 22nd is the longest day of the year. They have obviously never visited Lanark on Lanimer Day!

If you are a golfer, you'll know that a lot of conversation time is taken up with discussing what the weather will be. With Lanimers approaching, EVERYBODY is wondering (and hoping, and praying). Even normal people (not golfers) go home from their work to sit and watch Heather with the Weather with a morbid fascination . . . "Will it be better than last year?" "Could it be any worse than last year?" And last but not least "Well, there's always the pub!" There's always hope! But, I digress. Back to 6.30am. Breakfast is on the go. A Lanimer committee member, an older gentlemen who loves country and western music, family, one or two stragglers from the night before and the day begins. By 7.30am the bar is like a scene from the Mardi Gras . . . Singing, dancing, drinking, and men in women's clothes and they're all using my lipstick! You know who you are!

After breakfast . . . AHHH . . . bliss for a while. Peace and quiet. You sneak a look at the clock. A small jolt of disbelief passes as you think; "IT'S ONLY 9.30!" (Coffee time.) Then the Procession is over, the Queen is crowned and they think it's all over. Not yet.

Suddenly: Pandemonium! Mayhem! And goodbye to reality and sanity for the rest of the day!

There are people everywhere, most of them shouting things that you could be arrested for printing! The regulars, who stand with a hand raised waiting for a drink to materialise, don't shout. You will usually find them muttering things like "Amateurs!" and "Where are the barstools?" There are more adjectives, but as I mentioned, most of them are unrepeatable.

The local and visiting dignitaries appear en masse, ordering fifteen drinks at a time, each, (they always think they are first in the order of service!) and trying to cram in as much as possible before the next procession. That is why the one o'clock procession is never at one o'clock!

There are always a lot of new faces. One Tuesday afternoon, a few years ago, a couple came into the bar. After exchanging the normal pleasantries the conversation went something like this: "It's a little bit quieter today." "Oh, you've been here before?" "Yes, We spoke to you on Lanimer Day. Don't you remember?" "Ah." We keep in touch now and they visit every year (all the way from Fife, if you please) although sometimes I think it's because they haven't figured out quite what it's all about, yet!

And so, the afternoon passes, as afternoons tend to do, and by 5.30pm we're all ready and waiting for the next musical interlude (and the shift change!). After that, harassed mums with distressed children disappear to get ready for the reception. The dads . . . well, what can I say! Life is a cabaret, old son! (No point for that one either!) There is one piece of advice I would like to pass on to you, although if you are reading this and nodding, then you probably don't need it! Never, never, never say you don't like Lanimers, go to work in the morning to avoid all the hassle, and try to venture out for a beer when you get home. Keeping up with the conversation, by that point, is an exercise in futility! And don't try to catch up!

Finally, (do I hear cries of joy?) it would be remiss in the extreme not to say a huge thank you to all the people who make Lanimers possible. The list would be almost endless. But a special thanks from me goes to our friends who work with us behind the bar: after all, where would we be without them!

Happy Lanimers.

Gillian MacDonald