By Dr Rahim Said
New Year’s Eve is usually a fixed ritual: fixed menus, fixed chairs, fixed conversations that grow louder as sincerity competes with alcohol.
This year, something quietly different happened.
I spent the evening in a new restaurant with good company, eating beef Wellington and beef ribs cooked — somewhat rebelliously — not quite to perfection and unapologetically drenched in Worcestershire sauce.
Right next to the dining area, under the same roof, were four pickleball courts.
Not nearby. Not “across the road.” Right there.
Between courses, we wandered out to play. Not as an organised activity or a wellness add-on, but casually — hit a few balls, laugh at our lack of athletic grace, work up an appetite, then return to the table.
Later, we did it again. Dinner, play, dinner, play, dessert. No rush. No programme. Just movement stitched naturally into the evening.
That, I realised, may be a glimpse of how adult social life is about to change.
For decades, dining has been a stubbornly sedentary ritual. We sit for hours, conversations sagging somewhere between the appetiser and the bill.
Exercise, if it exists at all, is scheduled before the meal or used afterward as penance. Pleasure and movement are kept carefully apart.
Pickleball disrupts that — not because it is fashionable, but because it is forgiving.
You don’t need peak fitness, specialised gear, or youthful knees. You don’t even need to be particularly good. It is a social movement: light, inclusive, mildly competitive, and oddly communal.
Precisely the kind of activity that complements a long meal rather than interrupts it.
The idea of a restaurant deliberately co-existing with sports courts is quietly radical. It suggests that leisure no longer needs to be compartmentalised—eat here, exercise there, socialise somewhere else.
Instead, the evening becomes fluid. You sit when you want, move when you want, talk when you want, play when the conversation needs oxygen.
On New Year’s Eve, of all nights, this felt especially symbolic. While much of the world was busy sending AI-generated greeting cards — identical fonts, identical sentiments, broadcast in bulk — I watched real people step away from a table, paddles in hand, laughing under court lights before returning to finish conversations interrupted not by boredom, but by motion.
There was something deeply human about that rhythm.
If pickleball and similar low-barrier activities continue to merge with dining and entertainment, we may see social spaces evolve accordingly: restaurants designed with movement in mind, family venues where three generations can eat, play, and linger without anyone feeling excluded, and nights out that feel less like endurance tests and more like shared experiences.
This isn’t about fitness culture or wellness preaching. It’s about rethinking how we gather. Less stillness. Less obligation. More spontaneity. More reasons to stand up mid-conversation and come back refreshed.
Perhaps the future of socialising looks less like counting calories and more like earning dessert — one casual rally at a time.
So, if New Year’s Eve is meant to offer a hint of what lies ahead, then I’m rather pleased it began with beef Wellington, too much Worcestershire sauce, a pickleball paddle, and the realisation that some of the best conversations only really begin after you’ve stood up.