DRIFTERS FESTIVAL WITH CIROC VODKA
A HOLIDAY FEEL MUSIC FESTIVAL ON THE SPARSELY INHABITED ISLAND OF OSEA
We were welcomed to the sparsely inhabited island of Osea by the smell of cow parsley and seaweed. I was anxious, having not been to a festival for the best part of my existence. As a creature of habit how would I survive the weekend without my creature comforts? The calm sanctuary of my memory foam mattress, my Sunday Madras with Sag Paneer, the iPlayer and my triple-layer scented toilet paper. I get my rocks off to Rachmaninoff, Debussy and Bach, a stark contrast to the Drifters line-up on decks; Sigma, Tube and Berger, The Usual Suspects etc. etc.
"We want Drifters to be more like a holiday than a festival” as they were now “too old to deal with tents, no showers and hangovers.” - Mr Potter & Mr Boud, founders of Good Life Projects.
Overseeing the event were sponsors Kopparberg, The Cake app, Pops and CÎROC. CÎROC laid on a selection of castaway cocktails such as Summer Punch, Blue Stone, and Drift Away. A refined menu, masterly crafted and served at the exclusive Bomb Factory dance venue. The Island provided the stage, CÎROC provided the backdrop; Drifters in a snapshot. A stylish and soothing escape paired with a distinctly luxurious and refreshing French grape vodka.
The rooms would boast four poster beds, roll top baths and showering facilities. My fears for inadequate hospitality, now firmly at ease. The Cumbrian Sausage Company camped outside the glamping tents and served sustenance with a smile in abundance. It was there I eavesdropped as others swapped life stories with no emission of gory details. Other food partners for the event worthy of note were Le Rac Shack, an Alpine chalet shelling out Raclette (melted cheese on sausage). Raclette, the best a man can get. There is no doubting Drifters' potential, and I had ringside seats from my presidential suite.
In short I shall savour the long dance-offs in The Bomb Factory to No Artificial Flavors and The Sunset Sons. New friends and memories were made with whisky tea parties, sexface selfies and games of charades. CÎROC n'roll, and so long Osea. See you next year, if you'll have me.