When the chips are down

Harvey won't come out into the sun. He's lurking under the eaves in black jeans and a black jumper, irritably waving away a butterfly. Jimmy and Kira are inside, chainsmoking over a game of gin rummy. I guess this is what happens if you go on holiday with your poker school.

I don't fly. I gave up on the day - and here's a lesson for anyone who likes to play a purely statistical game - that my fear of flying counsellor died in a plane crash. In the 'poker game of life', that's the day your quads get outdrawn by a straight flush in a game of Texas HoldEm with only two players and no wild cards.

When you travel merely by rail and boat, it's hard to find holiday companions. Not everybody relishes a 10-hour journey that only gets you as far as Cannes. But poker associates enjoy nothing better than sitting at a table for 10 hours straight. Jimmy and Kira are so hooked on gin rummy that when the train stopped in the middle of nowhere and the Tannoy announced a long delay while they sought an alternative driver 'qui connait meilleur la route', they were actually pleased.

Of course, one shouldn't get too close to one's poker cohorts; it disturbs the balance of the game. So maybe the holiday is a dangerous idea. But I discover that, away with fellow players, there's no time for bonding over dinner, trinket shopping, sightseeing or confessional chat - not when there are unremitting high-stakes knockout tournaments to be dealt.

The action is relentless. I don't think there's a variant of poker we haven't played, with the occasional backgammon break. On the plus side each of us has won a few of the knockouts, proving that we're all about the same standard and none of us is the home game patsy. On the other hand, when you're back in London losing three months' mortgage in a normal casino HoldEm game, it's not much consolation to know that you're the Five Card Hi-Lo Stud With The Down Card Wild, A Last Card Twist, An Eights-or-Better Qualifier And A Declare holiday champion.

But even for us, 10 days of solid HoldEm might have got a bit much; hence the variety. It soon transpires that even these crazed variants are insufficient for the boys, who stay up playing all night after Kira and I have gone to sleep. On day five, we come down for breakfast to find that they've invented a new game.

Jimmy had brought a Scrabble set, but we hadn't yet figured out a good way to bet on it four-handed. So he and Harvey simply combined it with HoldEm. This irresistible mongrel remains unnamed, but my best attempt is Scrabble 'Em.

It's just like HoldEm, but with letters instead of cards. Everyone is dealt two hole letters that nobody else sees. You bet. Then three communal letters are dealt face-up as a flop. You bet. A fourth is dealt; you bet; the last letter comes, you bet.

As with poker, you have to make a five-card (or letter) hand. The order of hands is: a full house (say, three Rs and two Ns), a flush (five vowels), a straight (a five-letter word), then three of a kind, two pair, one pair. If there's more than one straight, the winner is the highest-scoring word.

So maybe you start with E-T. That's a good hand - all sorts of straight draws - so you make a bet. The flop comes E-R-A. You check your pair of Es. Next letter's a U: now you have a flush draw and a straight draw, so you bet. Someone raises. You call. Last letter comes a D: you've made a straight with TREAD! You bet big. The guy raises; you flat-call, fearing a flush. Turns out he had a B all along to make a bigger straight: his BREAD outranks your TREAD.

And what a joy: by the simple measure of going on holiday to France and taking a Scrabble board, you've found a whole new way to lose money.

I came here wondering what we'd all learn about each other in a relaxed social environment. I'm going home having learnt simply this: we're all even sicker than I thought.