Henry Pike from Nothing by sideSister

This is an august evening sometime in a wet July. Seventy seven is heaven if ever you're passing by. No need to recall it all, just the laughter in the air. Dunedin is freedom, and we've done much more than we would dare to share, but here we go tonight down the hill to Henry Pike.

Tony and Don joke with Jim as we walk the steep and frozen streets. Gail laughs at me and then Gina and Hamish and Nigel join in. Ice on the Canongate steps, and the harbour sparkles so smooth and clear. Soon we're on Princes Street, filling the footpath with noise – and we’re here, through the doors of Henry Pike tonight.

Shuffle is pounding the Eagles on board the Pittsburgh train. One table, no chairs anywhere, so we huddle around the bar again. It might be cold outside, but it's smoky warm in this crowd. Listening and dancing and drinking and talking far too loud. Henry Pike would feel at home
tonight.

Too soon it all ends, eleven pm and it's closing time. Battle the cold to the Octagon, salty hot chips to buy. Slowly we wend our way up the hill to home and bed. Soon we'll come back down the hill to Henry Pike.

• Experimental
• New Zealand