At some point between the blistering Mars Volta set and the 2am Buzzcocks gig we stumbled off into the woods. It seemed like the right thing to do.
Like pack-a-mac clad moths to a flame we were drawn to the gaudy disco lights of the Club de Fromage. This, as the name suggests, was an open air Bacchanalian knees-up dedicated to synth-soaked, drum machine-drenched music of a Cheddary nature. With its heavy rotation of retro floor-fillers, it put me in mind of one of those god-awful 80s theme bar chains like Reflex, yet managed to be nothing like them. For one thing, we were surrounded by gorgeous woodland and – from my experience, at least – this tends to be in short supply at your average 80s theme bar. That’s not to say that a conspicuous lack of dense foilage has ever prevented Reflex patrons from getting out of their trees.
Besides the verdant ambiance of the surroundings, Club De Fromage was also packed full of nice people having a good time. From my experience, this also tends to be in short supply at your average city centre 80s theme bar. I, for one, welcomed the noticeable lack of pinch-faced, dead-eyed, manic-aggressive, “Don’t-do-It-Mate, She’s-Not-Worth It” types. Who knows? Maybe they were knocking back the red sambucas and getting into fights over at the poetry tent…
As Dolly Parton belted out 9-to-5, I leaned against a neighbouring oak and tried to articulate these 80s theme bar observations to my neighbouring friends. Unfortunately, fatigue was taking hold, my timing was off and nobody could hear me.
Clare, however, was on top form: “They should call it Treeflex,” she said.
Wish I’d thought of that.