Cardigan Arms - Corby Village (Pt.2)

It's been a fair few Hogmanay's since New Year's Eve celebrations figured strongly for me. I'm not a late night pub man at the best of times, and too many boozers have spoilt the experience by making it a ticket only event, tacking-on an unnecessary buffet and loud conversation killing band and then charging for the pleasure! It wasn't always thus...

Back in the late 20th century the traditional New Year's Eve freestyle bender around a carefully selected trail of Leicester pubs was one of the highlights of the year. I've now come to appreciate Christmas more and regard the New Year as little more than a changing number on the Gregorian Calendar. I think it was the Millennium that finally did it for me. Massively over-hyped, and on the night monumentally undercooked, and it didn't help when the bastards closed and subsequently demolished The Magazine, probably the finest pub for a New Year's Eve dance and snog outside of Bonnie Scotland itself. Nowadays it's a schooner of Port, a knob of cheese, and an early night. I know!!!...

Corby folk do the New Year (Hogmanay) proper though. It's very much a Scottish thing. First Footing is still practiced in Corby of course, a tradition that some believe is a memory of Viking Invasion, when a light haired 'Vikingy' looking man crossing the boundary of your home was considered unlucky in the extreme, particularly if he was wielding an axe! Crucial to get a dark haired fella with a lump of coal in there first then! Corby is of course steeped in the traditions of Danish invasion, in fact the name Corby itself is understood to derive from this turbulent period of English history. I presume this is where the unique Corby tradition of 'Bring A Bottle' on New Year Day originates. Vikings! Booze! Entirely feasible...

Or… We could turn to a piece by Kate Cronin in the local Northamptonshire Telegraph newspaper, which suggests the tradition actually originated at the Cardigan Arms in Corby Village. Annoyingly for me, Kate unearths reliable first-person testament and a number of entirely believable if somewhat inconvenient truths about the day... Come on Kate, drop the journalistic integrity for just one day. Vikings!

New Year Day Corby Style

Young People in the Function Room, thousands of them!

So the beauty of Corby's unique New Year Day tradition is that it's not in fact centred on getting lathered on New Year's Eve (aka. Snoozy Time). Given our reticence when it comes to the whole Big Ben and Fireworks nonsense, we usually find ourselves fresh, practically unhungover, and ready to hit the ground running at the crack of opening time on New Year Day. The traditional Corby starting time for the big day, or so we thought!...

On the one day of the year when it's not only acceptable, but positively encouraged to take up to a Litre of Spirits to the pub, we found ourselves very well equipped in the spirit department, not nearly so well-endowed in the getting to a pub part. The huge popularity of the day has forced most, if not all of the pubs taking part to make New Year Day a ticket-only event (free, no buffet), primarily for the pleasure of the pubs loyal band of locals. Unfortunately, New Year's Eve had crept up on us and we were still embarrassingly ticketless, necessitating a last-minute dash across town with the trusty 'EPIC' begging bowl. Luckily I didn't have to pull the "Do you know who I am?" line (BRAPA if anyone asks). Employing my best 'Sad Old Spaniel Eyes', the landlord of the Cardigan very kindly took pity on me and issued a pair of 'Early Doors' tickets on the strict understanding we wouldn't be there all afternoon cluttering the place up and drinking out of our depth. We were in!

Now then, as I'm sure everyone knows, door-stepping a pub at 12 O'Clock opening time is a cast iron guarantee of bagging the comfiest seats in the very cosiest part of the pub. Guaranteed! We arrived at bang-on midday only to find several hundred people already settled in, their New Year Day Bring A Bottle party in full boozy session! How? What? Eh!... Needless to say all the comfy seats in the front bar were taken. As were the ones in the back bar. And the games room. Oh well! Standing room only then.

A full Scottish litre of supermarket fire water was always going to be beyond us. Two micro-flasks of artisan homemade hooch would suffice, including this fabulous festive Vodka-Pudding blend from the local Baggie Pete & Saxy Jane Apothecary. A cheeky little number that responded very poorly to the little bottle of Ginger Ale I partnered it with. Too sweet. Needed a Tonic really. The deal is you're allowed to bring the aforementioned litre of spirits, but the pubs insist you buy everything else drinks-wise from the bar, which seems entirely reasonable. The mixers of choice for experienced local types come in traditional 2 litre plastic, absolutely loads of them, a steady stream over the bar all afternoon. A typical New Year Day table can be seen below, space somewhat limited for a game of Dominoes as you can see. If we should suffer shortages of Lemonade, Coke, and Irn-Bru in the coming weeks, you'll know who's to blame.

I did my bit for the nascent Corby real ale revival and stuck to foaming cardboard pint pots of Doom Bar. Atlantic Pale too, both in fine form, though I may have been the only one drinking them. A steady stream of punters were arriving now, Vodka bottles proudly held aloft, all rather jolly as things started to get busy in the bar. Music was from the modern club canon, stuff we recognised but probably couldn't put a name to. All the ladies knew the words though, joining in with spontaneous ensemble singing and arms-aloft dancing. In a pub. At [checks notes] 1pm. Crikey!

Cheers!

Almost two hours in and I finally achieved a lunchtime ambition, the coveted status of 'Local’. The pints were now arriving in genuine branded glassware rather than cardboard, a sure sign of local status I reckon. Clearly the barmaid had marked us out as ‘safe enough’, possibly even ‘hapless tourists’, a broadly accurate assessment it has to be said. They could see we knew a thing or two about the safe use of glassware.

The fact is we were hanging-on in entirely the wrong bar, the two of us alone raising the average age by 2-3 percentile points. Remember when young people went to the pub? They still do in Corby, and particularly when they can bring their own booze. Proof, should it be needed, that the way to get younger folk into the pub is by not trying to serve them over-hopped craft beer at £6 a pop! You read it here first...

It was refreshing to share booze-space with Corby’s funky future pub-goers, but it was time for us to go now. How did we know it was time to go? Well, the music was getting that bit louder, the Macarena was surely only minutes away! That and the fact a local piper had just arrived to pipe us out of the pub, now that's what I call proper Corby hospitality!

Rob Muir, Piper Major

Every head turns as the Pipes & Drum enter the bar. I know how they feel!