Bridge is booming - the card game, that is. STEPHEN LEWIS went along to find out why.

I MUST have frittered away a good part of my student years on bridge. Not that I ever learned to play properly - I just happened to share a house with three friends, we happened to have a pack of cards, and it happened to be the time of year when we were supposed to be revising for exams.

Anything's better than that: so bridge it was. What began as a mild diversion rapidly developed into an obsession: and before long our relaxed, cheerful household was riven with rivalry, competitiveness and furious rows.

Somehow, we all got through our finals unscathed: and when we went our separate ways, our obsession with bridge disappeared. I haven't taken up cards in anger since.

So when I invite myself along to a Monday morning session at York Bridge Centre in Holgate Road, it's with a mild feeling of apprehension and the realisation, as soon as I sit down, that I haven't a clue what's going on. If only I had the skills of that bridge-addict movie idol Omar Shariff, I muse...

All these people bidding one club, two hearts and three no trumps - what on earth does it mean? What is the difference between a strategic bid and any other form of bid - and what are they all bidding for, anyway? And why, oh why, is York Bridge Club secretary Ray Lyall so disappointed when he wins more tricks than he'd said he was going to?

It's all a mystery: until I sit at a table and begin to watch. Gradually, it begins to come back.

I'm sitting at a table with Ray, his playing partner Tom McCaffrey and their opponents Bill Halford and Lynn Cooper. And it's the unspoken dialogue between players as the bidding process which opens each hand gets under way that fascinates me.

Lynn opens the 'bidding' quietly with one heart. Tom, at her right hand, passes. Bill, sitting opposite Lynn, replies to her opening bid by bidding one no trump. A little frisson runs round the table. Ray passes: and Lynn, continuing her dialogue with Bill, ups the stakes by bidding three clubs. Tom passes, and Bill bids again - this time three no trumps. More frisson, bigger this time.

The others pass. Bill's partner Lynn is looking worried: but it's too late for regrets. The game is on.

Lynn, the 'dummy' for this hand, lays her cards on the table. Bill's in control - and because he won the bidding he's somehow got to win nine of the 13 tricks in this hand, using both his and Lynn's cards, to fulfil their 'contract'.

Lynn's cards are strong - she has the ace of diamonds, the ace and queen of clubs, the ace and king of hearts. So things start well. Bill picks up a couple of quick tricks to open, then instructs Lynn to lead with the ace of hearts, then king of hearts. Two more tricks. Almost half way there.

Then things get more difficult. Bill frowns furiously at his cards, peering above the tops at Lynn's hand laid out opposite him. The pair's opponents, Ray Lyall and Tom McCaffrey, look impassively at each-other, but it's hard not to detect a note of quiet triumph as Bill's deliberations drag on.

"I think you're going off, Bill," says Ray quietly.

"I know I am," Bill says tersely.

He sets down another card. Ray pounces, beating it - and with the cards Lynn has left, there is nothing Bill can do to regain the initiative. Ray and Tom pick up five straight tricks, and win the hand eight tricks to five.

Bridge is booming: and if ever you needed an excuse to get out for the evening and indulge in fiendish mind-games with a bunch of like-minded enthusiasts, here it is. For bridge, all you need is a playing partner, a pair of opponents, a set of cards - and a capacity for wicked, devious cunning.

Actually, insists Ray, that's not necessarily so. Any game that involves 13 million different combinations of cards isn't going to be exactly simple. But despite what you may have heard, you don't have to be a genius or a masochist to enjoy bridge. It's really not that different from whist.

Two pairs of partners take each-other on around the card table. All 52 cards are dealt, players play a card each in turn, and the player laying the highest card on the table in that 'round' wins the trick. In whist, the aim is for you and your playing partner to win more tricks than your opponents. In bridge, it's not that simple: you 'contract' to win a certain number of tricks, and the aim is to win just that number and no more or less. But the principle is the same.

Yes, there are strategies and yes, there's a whole new form of communication involved in the delicate art of bidding. But you don't have to be a great player to enjoy it - and you certainly don't have to take it too seriously.

It's obvious from the friendly banter and laughter rippling around the room that the 20 or so people here today are simply having a great time.

Bridge is, Ray says, a great leveller. "You can play as if it were just whist, or you can play against an expert," he says. "We've even had a 12-year-old playing with his granddad."

Not only is it fun, it's good for you too, he insists. He even produces an article from a learned American journal to prove it. "It stimulates parts of the brain that support the immune system, apparently," he says. "And it keeps you mentally alert. It's good for longevity."

Ray's partner Tom, 79 years old and still sharp as a razor, would agree.

Regular classes are run at the Bridge Centre on Monday evenings (impro-vers, but closed this Monday for the Bank Holiday), Wednesday evenings (advanced) and Thursday evenings (beginners). Membership is £20 a year, classes cost £50 for a 12-week term. Ray is hoping to run classes this summer for eight to 15 year-olds. For details, contact Ray on 01904 709447.

Updated: 11:25 Friday, May 04, 2001