Sway Bar (Holborn)

Jack Torrence (The Shining)

I'm a man who has a love-hate relationship with his wife.

That's to say, she loves me; I hate the son of a bitch. He he he.

If you'd ever met Wendy, you'd know why I feel so strongly. You'd understand why I crave time away from the pain-in-the-ass little sweetheart.

She's never thought about MY RESPONSIBILITIES. It doesn't matter to her that my editor has put his COMPLETE CONFIDENCE and TRUST in me, that I have signed an agreement to write a book, a CONTRACT, in which I have accepted certain RESPONSIBILITIES.

I'm a writer goddamn it, and I need space to think. That's why I come to the Sway Bar. There's never any one in here – least on a week night - and I can collect my thoughts alone (albeit Jack Torrence thoughts move around in dark corridors).

Anyway I can't be with my family all the time. Apart from hating them with a (violent) passion, every guy needs a break. All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy, as they say! Hey, that's not a bad title for my new book.

Hmm, in fact I like it so much, I might make it a theme that runs right through. Finally, inspiration! Something I've struggled to find since I froze to death in the grounds of the Overlook Hotel. Ice block brings writers block, so no one says …he he he.

Dead or not, living with Wendy would leave you an empty void too. Some people shine and some don't. And let me tell you, Wendy don't shine one iota. Dull as freakin' ditchwater.

As I was saying, I started coming to The Sway Bar for peace and quiet, to support my writing once we'd moved to England. But this place is also a nostalgia trip for me. Kinda has the same feel as the Overlook's empty ballroom, with its pointless space and garish chandeliers. Reminds me of that crazy night I spent with O'Grady the caretaker and Lloyd the barman at that freakin' head-wound party.

I didn't carry cash back then, but that wasn't a problem. Didn't need to. Not like here.

"How's my credit?," I ask with a trademark Jack-the-hack-lad smile, when I first came to The Sway Bar. "We don't do credit here sir," the cretin replied.

Gimme Lloyd any day. No cash, no fuss, just a soul sold to the devil for an ale or two. I liked you, Lloyd. I always liked you. You were always the best of them. Best goddamned bartender from Timbuktu to Portland, Maine. Or Holborn, London for that matter.

Truth is, there's another reason I'm in here tonight. Wendy and I had another of our rows, quite a bad one in fact. As usual, she was getting in my face trying to talk about the kid's problems - as I was trying to collect MY creative thoughts.

I mentioned she was breaking my concentration. Told her she was distracting me. Suggested a new rule that when I'm typing or not typing or whatever the f**k I'm doing, she should leave me the f**k alone. And casually remarked that I was going to bash her f*****g brains in with a baseball bat - albeit I made clear that I wasn't going to hurt her. Just, bash 'em the f**k in.

Well, she went freakin' spare. It was HER that ended up smashing ME around the swede with the stick. Then she locked me in the larder. Jesus! What a ball-breaker.

Anyway. I escaped, and I'm back in Holborn. At The Sway Bar, off the orange juice and back on the bottle. Here's to Johnny. And here's to five miserable months on the wagon, and all the irreparable harm it has caused me.

* raises a glass of bourbon to no one in the room *

Now, where's my word processor. I need to correct a few things I've said. Before I go home and correct my wife. And son.

Jack Torrence's rating for The Sway Bar – 3 / 10

Sputnikski

• View by pub
• View by reviewer
• View by place

• Natural Selection,..

  “,….. Why didn’t they live to be 100?Huh? Well, they woz running round all day, hunting mammoths, eating berries,..rumping their little hearts out. No boozing or smoking. They must have been fit as fiddles. Yer Neanderthalls……….I’ll tell you why, it’s … Continue reading →