A calendar,not a clubhouse.
Why it exists
Oran empties out on a Saturday morning, and for a while we were part of the reason. Everybody had a group chat full of plans that never survived contact with an actual weekend.
So in April somebody booked a court, told eleven people, and six of them turned up. That is the entire origin story. It has not become more sophisticated since.
How a day goes
There is something to do and then somewhere to sit. Tennis at nine and the cafeteria at eleven. A film at six and an argument about it at eight. A walk up Murdjadjo before the heat, and a very long lunch on the way back down.
The first half gives you a reason to come and something to say. The second half is where you actually meet anybody, which is why we never skip it.
Who turns up
People in their twenties and thirties, 3 of them at the last count, most of whom arrived knowing nobody at all.
Architects who have never held a racket. Doctors coming off a night shift. Somebody who restores motorbikes. The mix is the point. It is the one thing we are careful about.
Five things,loosely enforced.
Nobody has ever been thrown out of anything. These exist because a club is only as good as its worst afternoon, and every one of them was learned the hard way.
If you say you're coming, come.
And if you can't, say so. Somebody is usually waiting for the spot, and they would rather know on Friday than on Saturday. Confirm and then don't turn up and it counts against you — twice and booking pauses until we've had a word. Tell us in advance and it counts for nothing at all.
Phones face down once the food arrives.
Nobody is policing this. It just turns out to be the difference between a lunch and a queue of people waiting to leave.
Nobody sits on their own.
If somebody is standing at the edge of the group looking at their drink, that is not their problem to solve. It is yours.
The bill is split evenly, without discussion.
Counting out who had the extra coffee has ended more clubs than bad weather ever has.
Talk to somebody you arrived not knowing.
One person is enough. It is most of why any of this works.
Full is notthe end of it.
Courts and tables get booked for a fixed number, so some things genuinely fill. The waitlist is not a formality — it moves nearly every time, because plans change on a Friday.
You join the list, in order
Strictly whoever asked first. Not by how long you have been a member, and not by who replied fastest.
We check with everybody the day before
One message to everyone holding a spot. Anybody who can no longer come says so, and their spot opens.
We ring the first person on the list
An actual phone call. If you can come, the spot is yours. If you can't, no hard feelings — we come off the list and ring the next person.
Reasonablehesitations.
If none of these is yours, the number at the bottom of this page is a real one and somebody answers it.
Come to one thing before you decide anything.
Nearly everything is open to anyone. Joining only matters for the handful of evenings we keep off the calendar.
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