Le Touquet - 54ème Festival International de Bridge
We had been talking about Le Touquet for a while. Well, if you can call eight years, perhaps ten, a 'while'. Peter Sutcliffe was the man who kept it alive and at any adverse comment about an event, the Brighton Summer Meeting especially, he'd raise the prospect again. Comparisons with Brighton weren't entirely odious; both tournaments fall in the same month of August (though the French one often ends in September) and both feature a pairs weekend, a teams weekend and smaller midweek competitions between. This year, Peter, Debby and Peter Gemmell didn't play Brighton and the excursion across the channel became a live possibility. Then, suddenly, it was all agreed: there would be eight of us, four players and four non-players; Peter's wife Caroline, their two daughters and my partner Jean.
Le Touquet Paris-Plage is quietly and non-offensively a bit posh. We approach through leafy suburbs with wide roads where extensive houses seemed mostly closed up. Both in name and reputation, the town shapes itself as an escape from Paris and urban living but without any rural hardship. The boulevards are elegantly and imaginatively planted though cars are parked, and double parked, everywhere. It's unhurried and even when you reach the built up sea-front, it's still smart. More up-market, less young-person than Brighton, more cosmopolitan than Southwold or Whitstable – it's very French.
One selling point was the schedule: instead of the British model; bridge from 1:00 or 2:00 in the afternoon, odd gap from 5:30pm until 8:00pm - when no good restaurant is ever pleased to see you – then another session until late, the continentals are more civilised. They start about 3:00pm and go straight through until 8:00pm - no breaks. Before play you can shop, walk or swim, afterwards you can have dinner with a glass of wine without your team-mates raising their eyebrows.
We were playing in the teams event on the first weekend, in preference to the more prestigious and tougher pairs. Peter Sutcliffe's unshakable conviction that we didn't need to enter was tested critically: we turned up on the Saturday, twenty minutes before game-time. I couldn't help noticing some competitors kissed the organisers on both cheeks. We were quizzed in case we were experts (non!) or nationally accredited. We misunderstood this last part and should possibly have admitted to our EBU rankings but they were shrewd and refused to put us in the non-expert category for which there was a separate prize pool. Now we had almost twenty minutes to worry about convention cards.
This would be wasted because practically no-one subsequently showed any interest whatsoever in our methods. The Peters had toned down their system to ease explanations but Debby and I were playing something pretty adjacent to 'French Standard'. We relaxed opponents by telling them our no-trump range, 14-16 in contrast to the universal 15-17, and not that English eccentricity, 12-14. Our only other point of divergence was our two diamond opener; natural and weak as opposed to Forcing Manche a slightly convoluted ace asking mechanism. In practice no-one had convention cards and when I lost my back-of-score-card tick-box version, no-one paid it any mind. The lack of paper and the bidding boxes attached to the table sides at least made for an uncluttered table.
We expected Swiss teams, possibly a multiple with a cut for the Sunday. What it turned out to be was a Patton. Eh? We played four board rounds and first conversion was to IMPs then an eight point victory scale. However, in addition, if you scored an IMP on a board, you got another 2 VP. Flat boards were 1-1 on this second scale. So, whilst an overtrick was still just an IMP, if you lost all four boards each by that amount, though the loss of -4 IMPs resulted in a modest 3-5 defeat, you would get slaughtered on the other scale 0-8 and lose the match 3-13.
We did well to not let it affect our game - there were more distractions. We had to call dummy's cards in French but curiously, it soon became second nature. The most awkward thing was the French pack with its Roi, Dame, and Valet. It doesn't sound too difficult but the simple activity of counting my points reduced me to a beginner. I realised that after all these years, I no longer do the Ace = 4, King = 3… business, I see groups, ace-king is seven, king-queen is five and so on. Back to first principles I was desperately slow; caught on the hop once, with a 5=4=2=2 shape and thinking "am I strong enough to bid both my suits?" in response to partner's 1♣ and found myself responding one heart and not one spade. I had a nine count I discovered later; six spades was a good contract but we found it hard to get there without bidding the suit.
The physical aspects of playing were quite odd too. Strangely, for an 'international' event we didn't have any pre-dealt boards. And I don't mean just no computer boards, the movement meant that we had to deal before each four board round. And both teams moved; it was like a conga, eventually you arrived at a rotation table, played the people you'd been following and then headed back. This seemed to create quite a lot of slack time. In the five hour session we played 28 deals. This created a relaxed environment and as we moved, shuffled and dealt, our opponents introduced themselves, seemed genuinely pleased that we were there and happily tried their English when we fumbled in French. At Brighton this year, Peter Stocken, tried to encourage competitors to shake hands when they met at the table: it lasted just the one round. In Le Touquet a decent proportion shook hands, especially if they met you as both pairs approached the table.
We avoided the director until late in the event. We were conscious some of our explanations might be misinterpreted but it seemed to be going well. Until we had a competitive auction where I agreed partner's hearts and then bid two more suits, the final one being a control. I think the opponents thought we were having a misunderstanding and doubled our four hearts. It was cold. They were now aggrieved the last call hadn't been alerted. The director didn't bother with us; as far as I can tell, he told the opponents to get real – how many suits did they expect me to have? It was rather refreshing.
The director was there again when one of the opponents revoked: I was now two off in a nine trick four spades. However, because they took the trick and a subsequent one, we were scored as making. I acknowledged the decision but offered to call it down one – in the spirit of entente cordial. However, possibly defending the laws, possibly fearing I'd misunderstood and catching sight of this, the director forbade it and summoned a bilingual player. The opponents thanked us for our gesture and conceded the game.
There were only twenty two teams with fourteen rounds over two days, nevertheless the prizes were quite good. First through fourth, were in cash; 600, 460, 300 and 150 Euros per team. With 460 and 300 for the first and second non-experts. There were additional non-cash prizes, reminiscent of the prize-table of consumer durables that was once a feature of our local congresses at Clacton and Felixstowe. I think they had sponsorship because these were either clocks, suitcases or bathroom scales. The remainder of the top third got these. We came in fourth; we'd staged a good run at the end, the leading scores were 155, 154, 152 and us on 144, 4VP ahead of the only other foreign team, an outfit from Kent. After the prizes there was a champagne reception and after our modest success, the Piper Heidsieck slipped down very easily.
The next day was bank holiday Monday in England so we stayed in France and built sand-castles on the beach, delved into the pools the sea left when the tide went out (almost forever) and went to dinner again. The girls hadn't tired of the beaches; they are sandy, clean and uncrowded yet not isolated. The restaurants were mix of family run and, I'm guessing, franchises and small chains. All of them were reasonable, curiously, the spookily empty one when all the others were full on Friday night, was the best. After four nights we left the next day after early morning raids on the cheese and chocolate shops. The four non-players pronounced it as much a success as the four players.
Bridge: just turn up at Le Casino Palais, (Place de l'Hermitage) with cash (180 EUR per team). The pairs, second weekend, is slightly more per player but has much larger prizes.
Accommodation: we stayed at Ibis Thalassa Le Touquet, it was 108 EUR/night per room, breakfast, continental style, not bad, well organised, 10 EUR/person. It's literally on the beach, consequently some noise but we'd all go back.
Travel: Eurotunnel was 148 GBP both ways between four. Le Touquet is just under an hour's drive from the Tunnel. We didn't need a car once we got there, parking seemed to be no problem near the hotel.
Food: We did no research and just took put luck. I liked Le Café des Arts (80, rue de Metz), slightly odd décor (teddy bears on tables…) but good food, good cheeses and best wine list. Also Chez Philippe (91, rue de Paris) with five course seafood tasting menu.
Shop: Incomparable chocolates at Le Chat Bleu (47, rue St Jean) and fabulous cheeses at Le Cercle Turophile (118, rue de Metz).