Pendant mes vacances, je suis allé en France. Specifically St-Malo (and a bit of Paris, but there were no fléchettes to be found there), a beautiful fortress town on the North coast of France. I went for total immersion, reading only Patrick O’Brian Napoleonic-era naval fiction where some of the fortifications date from, visiting Dinard to pretend I was the bloke in Eric Rohmer’s Conte d’été and playing darts with the locals in a Hawaiian-themed bar. I count myself very lucky we found a steel-tip board. We found an electronic arcade-style soft-tip machine on the first night, which I had almost resigned myself to. The bar had a variety of beers on tap, mostly from the Atlantic Brewery. I sampled many over a few days, enjoying the Rousse, which I think is a new style to me.

The board was a Unicorn Eclipse Pro. Most of the beds were in good nick, with a nice bladed spider for minimising bounce-outs. However, the centre of the board was a bit tired, especially compared to the treble twenty, usually the most knackered part of a non-rotated board. This could be due to darts cultural differences. The regular players I got to know mostly played cricket. This may be confusing: a very English sounding game played on board common to English pubs but rare in France. However, it is much more common outside of the UK. I’ve never played it when taking on strangers in local pubs. I think that’s because cricket is a classic soft-tip darts game, and soft-tip darts are much more ubiquitous outside the UK. Take all of that with a pinch of salt, though. It could also be due to punters using the pub darts to have a throw on a board not frequently seen. Aiming at the bull as it’s obviously the best bit. Given the state of the adjacent wooden model’s face I suspect some fairly inacurate players had had a crack, or some quite accurate but vindictive throwers.

The oche was naturally formed by a wooden board covering the hole down to the cellar. I didn’t bring my measuring string with me (apologies), but it felt like the right distance to me. The board was the correct height too, give or take. The rest of the bar was covered in sand, which was a bit uncomfortable when it got in my Birkenstocks. However, it did add to the historic feeling of the pub if you ignore the Hawaiian decorations. When we found the board I was indeed as happy as a sandboy. Occasionally the bar staff would have to access the cellar, necessitating a pause in play. It also had the little tab and bit of rope which I occasionally tripped over.

Scoring options were limited to using your phone. Not the end of the world, I’m not sure there was a good spot for a chalkboard anyway. One of the bar staff plus a few of his friends who were regular visitors before disappearing to their own hospitality jobs were keen players. With a range of English levels and my schoolboy French we managed a few friendly games and a bit of chat. I should have used their insider knowledge to get the local scoop on the best boulangeries or places to avoid. However, chat was more general, just giving a sense of St-Malo life I otherwise wouldn’t have got. I held my own well enough that I didn’t have to explain I was using my B set of darts. I didn’t want to risk having my A set confiscated on the ferry or Eurostar (I did get pulled aside on the Eurostar, but they let me keep them).

All in all, I can highly recommend St-Malo. The old town in the fortress is beautiful, the beaches are stunning, and it has a choice of soft-tip or steel-tip boards for whatever your holiday darting preference may be. I also particularly enjoyed the overnight ferry from Portsmouth.