ALTHOUGH WE live in Paris and our children were born there, Ireland is a big part of our lives. With lots of relatives living on farms when I was young, my summers were spent running around fields and wrecking hay bales with my cousins. The freedom was great. Looking back, those summers were all sunny and warm, but, of course, they weren’t — especially in Sligo.
We want our kids to know Ireland too, so we go back to Sligo every year and they get together with the next generation of cousins. Deirdre’s folks come from Enniscrone, which has a fantastic beach, and the highlight for me and my boys is the seaweed baths. Enniscrone has the first seaweed baths to open in Ireland. We go into a steam box to open up the pores, plunge into a hot bath of seawater and seaweed, then run under a really cold shower, which wakes you up like nothing else I know.
Living in Paris means that we can drive to Italy for the weekend, or come to London. Every May we head for Odds Farm Park, Windsor. It’s a working farm and fantastic for kids. In December we always take them to Christmas markets in Germany — Saarbrücken is fun.
I don’t pretend to be an expert, but I’m a bit of a wine buff. For the past couple of years, we’ve taken July holidays in Tarragona, south of Barcelona — it has a great music festival — and we break the journey for a night or two in Meursault, where we all go wine-tasting. The kids love it because there’s lots of interactive stuff for them to do.
In Tarragona we stay at the Tarraco hotel. It’s on the beach — which keeps us all happy. Then we head to Provence for our main summer holiday. Since 1999, I’ve rented the same house in the Luberon. I love it. Every morning, I jog 5km past vineyards and orchards, and on the way back there’s this breathtaking view of the valley. It’s incredible. It feels as though you’re standing on top of the world. It’s a view that makes me understand Mahler — the sounds and sights you get from listening to one of his symphonies.
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There’s no phone service to the house and no piano, so it’s a total wind-down. After our breakfast baguettes, we have a bit of revision, so the kids can keep up with their school work. We might go for a bike ride or just stay around the pool. After a long lunch, it’s siesta time. Then it’s into the car for some sightseeing or shopping, and back to the house for a barbecue. Fergus is the barbecue man of the family.
I spend my life on planes and in hotels, but travel has never lost its thrill. This summer, with all the security restrictions on instruments, was hard for musicians. In August, when we had the Clandeboye Festival, in Ireland, some musicians who were coming from America and Korea were re-routed through French airports, which didn’t have the same restrictions. One clarinettist begged to have his instrument with him on the plane to Belfast: eventually, he was allowed to have it in a see-through plastic bag, but it had to travel in front with the captain.
Moving to Paris was done on a whim. In 1989, with my schoolboy French, I checked in at the George V, spent a lot of money and asked everyone I knew how I could live in Paris. I rented a couple of places and eventually bought my own. We have a studio apartment in the loft for visitors. I always tell everyone coming to Paris, “Don’t stick to the tourist trails. Don’t be scared of getting lost. Paris has such hidden delights.” The art galleries are incredible. We often take the kids to the Musée du Luxembourg, which has just three or four rooms, so they don’t get bored and they leave wanting more.
Our most memorable family holiday was the summer when I rented a van for three weeks, driving around Wyoming and Colorado. It was awesome. We took the chairlift up the mountain in Beaver Creek. That was another Mahler moment.
I’ve never skied and feel guilty that I haven’t taken the kids. Having grown up in chilly, damp Ireland, I don’t like being cold. As all French kids ski, next year I’ll just have to grit my teeth and take them.