Nets Up, Lines Marked: Five Château Stays Where the Games Are Actually Worth Packing For

There is a particular kind of British holidaymaker for whom the afternoon is the most important part of the day. Lunch has been taken; the garden has been walked once; the children have been dispatched in search of the pool. What remains is an hour or two before the bath and the aperitif, and the question of how to fill it. On a French château stay, the answer is usually a game — provided somebody has thought to maintain the equipment.

That proviso does a good deal of work. A tennis court appears on almost every château's list of facilities, and on a good number it is a stretch of cracked asphalt behind a hedge, with a net sagging at the middle and a single wooden racquet, warped since the Mitterrand era, hanging from a nail. None of this is dishonest, exactly. It is simply not the same thing as a court you would choose to play on.

Reading the Small Print Before You Book

The first distinction worth drawing is between a court that is maintained for guests and one that is maintained because the family plays. The second is almost always the better bet. Châteaux run as private houses with a handful of rooms tend to keep their own racquets in decent order and their lines repainted, because somebody on site actually uses them. Larger properties with a leisure complex attached will have newer surfaces and more reliable booking systems, but also more people waiting for the court at six in the evening.

It is worth asking three questions by email before you commit. Is the net checked and adjusted during the season? Are there racquets in adult sizes, and how many? And is the court floodlit or, more to the point, shaded — because a hard court in the Loire in July at three in the afternoon is an instrument of mild torture. A fourth question, if you play seriously: is it a hard court or a porous synthetic clay, which behaves quite differently underfoot and takes a good deal more watering.

The general rule for packing is straightforward. Bring your own racquet if you have any intention of playing a proper game — a racquet travels without difficulty in a holdall on Eurotunnel — and bring a tube of new balls, since the ones in the basket by the court will have been there since the previous summer. Whites are not required anywhere in France. Trainers are.

Five Properties Where the Games Hold Up

Château des Briottières, Anjou. A family house rather than a hotel in any meaningful sense, and all the better for it. The tennis court sits within the park, and the equipment is kept where equipment should be — in the boot room, looked after by people who use it. Croquet is set out on the lawn in summer, badminton appears when the wind drops, and bicycles are available for the flat lanes beyond the gates. The aperitif is served on the terrace steps, which is precisely the right distance from the court: close enough to walk to in tennis shoes, far enough to require a change of shirt.

Château de Villiers-le-Mahieu, Île-de-France. The most convenient of the five for a traveller arriving off the Eurostar, and the most resort-like in character. Tennis, cycling and a broad programme of activities for younger guests make it a sensible choice for a multi-generational party, though the atmosphere in August is busier than the phrase 'château stay' tends to imply. Book the court at breakfast. Do not expect solitude.

Château de Saint-Loup-sur-Thouet, Deux-Sèvres. This one earns its place for honesty: the point here is not tennis but the grounds, where a boules pitch sits under a walk of limes and a croquet lawn is marked out in the French manner — shorter hoops, tighter spacing, no quarter given. The formal gardens give the afternoon a certain ceremony, and the house itself rewards an hour of wandering before dinner. Bring your own boules if you are particular about weight; the set provided is perfectly functional but heavier than most British players are used to.

Château de la Treyne, Lot. A riverside house in the Dordogne valley, and the best of the five for the sheer pleasure of the setting. The court is a modest affair in the grounds, playable rather than pristine, and the real draw is the croquet lawn and the shade of the cedars towards six o'clock. Guests who have asked ahead report that racquets are available but limited in number. Pack your own and the afternoon takes care of itself.

Château de la Bourdaisière, Loire. Relaxed, informal, and happier than most with children wandering between the games and the gardens. The tennis court is a straightforward hard surface, well used and reasonably kept, and there is space enough for a croquet set to be produced without ceremony. It suits families who want games to be part of the day rather than an organised event.

Croquet, Boules and the Question of the Lawn

French croquet lawns are rarely the shaved billiards tables of an English club. They are meadows with hoops in them, and the ball runs slowly and unpredictably. This is not a defect; it is a different game, closer to the original and certainly more sociable. Do check the hoops before you start — six is standard, nine is an affectation — and check also that the mallets are of a usable length for everyone playing.

Boules is the more reliable pleasure, and the one most likely to draw in other guests. Most châteaux with a pitch also have a set, and many will arrange an evening game with the owners or staff if asked at breakfast. A word of warning to anyone used to English bowls: the terrain is unrolled gravel or packed earth, the throw is from the palm, and a good deal of the skill lies in reading ground you have not seen before.

The Aperitif as Full Stop

The best of these properties understand that the game is a means rather than an end. Dinner in most French château houses is at half past seven or eight, which leaves a natural interval after the last set — enough time to shower, dress and assemble on the terrace with a glass of something local while the light goes.

Ask, when booking, whether drinks are served on the terrace before dinner and at what hour. The answer tells you almost everything about the rhythm of the house. Where the aperitif is a fixed and unhurried ritual, the games tend to be properly maintained too. Both are symptoms of the same thing: a household that takes its guests' afternoons seriously.