The end-of-season party is in full swing as I write, but I did get to enjoy watching a few rolls of the final game in Central Park on the weekend. The style of the game varies from the one my father enjoys – for example, there are 16 ends as opposed to 21 in Australia. But the biggest difference was in the green itself, where balding patches and falling leaves would have created many excuse-ridden deliveries. Not that anyone seemed too fussed, as it’s a very casual caper. Visitors are welcome, you can play your first year with borrowed bowls, and you can receive free lessons at the end of the summer. Looks like a good opportunity for me to polish up my swing before I hit the perfection of the Kirton Point Bowling Club when I next head home…