Craic On

Now I’m alert to the risks that public parks present me with: stray dogs with large teeth that will “hound” you for your lunch or even a takeaway tea, small children on scooters who can neither swerve nor break, teenagers on bicycles taking a short cut at top speed, joggers, beggars, hawkers and pick pockets. To the ever expanding list of hazards I can crash into, trip over or be robbed blind by, add the game of “boules”. Anyone labouring under the illusion that boules is just bowls with a French spelling, had better think again. Boules is no sedate game, played in the warmth of a continental evening in areas reserved for old men to meet and chat about the important matters of the day, while nonchalantly chewing tobacco and casually rolling a wooden ball about. Oh no. Boules is a fiercely competitive game in which metal balls are liberally hurled about like cannon balls. Players aren’t fussy. They’ll play it anywhere. For a good impromptu game, the intersection of pathways in public parks provide just t