One evening, from six o'clock to half past midnight.
You can set a clock by an evening at Redcliff Row: the same hour opens the doors, the same hour closes them, and the same four tables carry everything in between.
Six o'clock: the first guest takes a seat.
Six o'clock is when it starts, every weeknight, the same way: the marquee outside switches on, the counter pours its first pot of tea, and whoever arrives first gets first pick of the four tables.
By seven, most seats are taken, and the room settles into the rhythm it keeps until the small hours — hands dealt, points counted, cups refilled, and very little else asked of anyone in the room.
Half past midnight is when it ends, again the same way: the last hand is played out, chips are tallied back to points on a page, and the room empties table by table until the marquee is the only light left on James Street.
You could set your evening by it, and plenty of the regulars do — the building used to run to a very different clock, back when it was Yeppoon's picture theatre, but the idea of a room that fills, plays and empties in a single sitting hasn't changed at all.
Six hours, four tables, one night.
Doors open, marquee lit, first table claimed
All four tables seated and dealt in
The room settles into its evening rhythm
Final tea and coffee served at the counter
Final hand ends, the room empties for the night