Hubble, bubble, toil and trouble … Here is the Prospect Park Tennis Center, which from November through to the end of April each year is shrouded in an enormous air-conditioned bubble to ensure that we mortals don’t freeze our tennis balls off when trying to play the game.
Our group of four – three ex-pat Australians and one ex-pat Brit – play every Monday. In order to reach the tennis courts I walk for thirty minutes at my usual pace (I have been nicknamed “The Greyhound” for my walking speed), as they lie on the diagonally opposite corner of the park from where I live. It’s a great warm-up, especially in the below-freezing conditions that have been part and parcel of life here since I returned from Sydney in early January.
