Festival Fever: Isle of Wight (1969 & 1970) // Guest Post from Momma Firebird

I'm very excited about today's guest post, it is from someone who has literally known me all my life. So I'm very pleased she agreed to share some her festival memories...

In 1969 the legendary Woodstock festival was held in New York state and is regarded to be one of the pivitol moments in popular music history. But the buds of this blossoming festival fever were not confined to the USA. 

The first Isle of Wight festival was held just eleven days after Woodstock, headlined by Bob Dylan (who missed Woodstock to play on the Isle of Wight instead). The second festival in 1970 had estimated crowds of 600,000. It is said to be one of the largest human gatherings in the world at the time and is one of the defining moments of the UK's music scene. 

Today's guest poster ventured down from her student digs in Manchester to attend both of these festivals on the island. So without further ado, I am very proud to introduce you all to my wonderful Mum....

Thank you Momma, I love you x...

I don’t think you ever remember festivals with your brain. What linger are feelings. Fragments of the days and nights blow around the memory.

Leaving your bedsit laden with what you think you’ll need, feeling as if you are the only person heading to some great adventure; seeing numbers of similarly laden people increase exponentially at each transit change until you form a rag tag river flowing down leafy lanes to the metal perimeter fences. It is always further than you think. You start to appreciate why your mother had this thing about sensible shoes.

It was other-wordly travelling to the Island and not simply because the ferry trip dislocated you from the world you left behind. In ’69, I don’t think the local people fully expected the influx.There was more of a Woodstock spirit. By ’70, they had located the festival in a far off corner and were equipped with small tables laden with over-priced supplies by the sides of the road.


No-one stole from our tent and though there was reported to be disruption in ’70, I didn’t see it. Any sleep happened from dawn til early afternoon, because bands played until the sun came up. Maybe you could grab 20mins between sets unless someone trod on your hair.

I remember Dylan, who seemed curiously alone on stage however many people were around him; the Who – popped up everywhere in those days and they played every last note of Tommy; the Nice (interminable) and Julie Felix, whose voice left clear notes suspended in the air.

I ruined my shoes, which were red ballet affairs with ribbons; discovered skirts are way better than jeans in portaloos and that velvet looks beautiful (my grandmother’s Edwardian coat) but offers little protection from the cold.

1970 I was prepared! Layered clothing is your friend. Apart from making the mistake late Friday night of pitching behind a large marquee which turned out to be the Hawkwind tent and made any sleep impossible for 2 days, I was a seasoned festival goer. Everyone I wanted to see was playing, Doors, Sly Stone, TYA, Joni Mitchell, Free, the Who (a-gain), Joan Baez, Jimi Hendrix.

Made a lot of friends; danced in the moonlight; started a tradition of festival-going, which passed down the line to my children.

The spirit lives on!

(All images sourced via Google images, please let me know if you know who they belong to)