Latitude Diary Day 3: Fromage Fray

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, except it was good. For one thing, it was packed full of trees: from my experience these tend to be in short supply at your average 80s theme bar. Of course, a conspicuous lack of trunks, leaves and branches has never stopped the average Reflex patron from getting spectacularly out of their tree. That's what I call a testament to human ingenuity.

Besides the verdant ambiance, Club De Fromage was also packed full of nice people having a good time. From my experience, these tend to be in short supply at your average city centre 80s theme bar, too. 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 tree and endeavoured to be witty and articulate. but fatigue was taking hold. Clare, however, was on top form: "They should call it Treeflex," she said.

Wish I'd thought of that.