A few last pictures from France, this time documenting the mighty boulodrome in the village. It is here that people from the village congregate at around tea time, and sometimes are joined by folks from the next village along.

Getting to play is just the best bit of the holiday – language barriers fall away and everyone lets their boule skills do the talking. Striking someone else’s boule out the way – a task usually reserved for the men – is probably the proudest moment of my life, second only to the time I won at Bash The Rat at a nightclub. But believe me, when you bowl a bummer and the men shout ‘Mal tombé’, it’s the worst.

If you fancy some of your own petanque action, rumour has it they play in Cleaver Square, Kennington.