|
I wonder if, deep in the heart of the
North, they still play Boule au cadran?
It's a long time since we spent a remarkably memorable summer in Bruay-en
Artois, where they could get pretty serious about what must be, against
all comers, cricket in Yorkshire not excepted, the slowest game in the
world.
It's all very simple and very civilised. Early in the morning, the
Committee arrives at the Boulodrome. The groundsman marks out the target –
le cadran – at one end, while the scorers set out their chairs and table
and the sheets of cardboard they can stand on to avoid marking the playing
surface. And, of course, the umpires' chairs. The rest, at the other end,
get down to the serious business of setting up the card tables and opening
the bar.
At about eleven o'clock the players start to arrive. Each one drops his
franc – I suppose now he drops a Euro – in the kitty and rolls his five
large white boules the fifteen metres or so to the target. One in the
centre scores five, in the next ring four and so on. During the course of
the day, a man can have several tries in between glasses and games of
manille.
At the end of the day the bouliste with the highest score goes off with
half the kitty.
The rest pays for the upkeep of the boulodrome and the occasional new
sheet of cardboard. A full day's entertainment for a minimal outlay, with
the chance of a big win thrown in.
If you can stand the pace, that is. |
.JPG)
.JPG)