Stories from the Isle of Wight Festival – Part 2

Continued from Part 1

It was assured a few times during the day, that the walk home would only be a quiet 30 minutes. This was an estimate that was greatly exaggerated and what happened on this walk home was a little more than expected.

Now, the rain didn’t let up on the Friday night for our entire walk home. So were drenched about 2 minutes into the walk. We power through in soaked canvas shoes, singing popular songs but also replacing a word or two to keep them amusing and keep spirits high. I think one of the words was ‘Pasty’… we were hungry. This walk home is essentially a long straight path with about 3 or 4 hills, so after a while you start thinking you’re at the end… but it’ll just keep going and going. A simple, “Oh, we are nearly there.”, kept us from going a little mad.

Arriving at the bottom of the biggest hill we are shouting/singing/complaining but across the other side of the road, we hear another voice. An older looking chap, wearing a high visibility jacket and riding a bicycle. He gives us a little lighthearted positivity boost for our journey and we think that’s the end of it. It was not. He asks us to wait as he cycles across the road to talk to us.

We chat to the guy briefly before he puts his hand in his pocket as he wants to show us something. “This is it, this is the end”, you can sometimes think in those situations, BUT he removes from his pocket… a Harmonica. Scotty gets his guitar out and the extremely impromptu jam starts. It’s raining heavily at this point, we’re out on the side of the road making some beautiful noise, getting super wet but we’re far past the point of caring and it was so fun.

The song ends and our new friend decides to walk with us for a while. We continue to tell the helpful lie of “We’re so nearly there.”, until we actually reach the home stretch. We stop for a while as our new cycling, harmonica playing, yellow jacketed friend wants to roll a cigarette. It went horrendously silent as we watch him pulling out paper after paper, each one getting soddened before you could even start. Eventually, after a little help, one is rolled and we have a small conversation and he wants to share a bit about himself. He stuttered a lot and struggled to structure a sentence but we learn that he had suffered a heart attack and a stroke.

Now the guy is still cycling and just getting on with it so that is incredible, but for a moment we thought things were about to go south again.

“Do you want to touch a man’s heart?”, he asks.

Now, instantly, we’re thinking he totally means his penis. He proceeds to ask again and he tells us he has a pace maker under his skin that you can feel. It only took a little persuasion but it was a ‘Fuck It’ type moment and we touch this gentleman’s heart. Very strange. We began saying our goodbyes, naturally, because something we have now learned in life is that when you begin to touch a man’s heart, the conversation has peaked.

He hops on his bike and continues on… to Portsmouth we were told. When we finally get home we are tired, bemused & bewildered, yet ultimately appreciative of one of the best days ever. Our guitars & clothes were destroyed by mud and rain and after a night-cap we just had to get some sleep as we had another show to do…

The final part of our IOW Festival blogs will be up next week!
Modern Honesty

P.S. We didn’t get the bus because from the festival to where we we staying as it was £6 – A price we could’ve and probably should’ve paid but this blog would have been a lot shorter.