I was living in my flat in South Kensington, where I had lived since 1973, and which is still my London home, and just starting out as a soloist. I’d finished studying the year before but was still having lessons from a very great cellist, Pierre Fournier, in Geneva. But I was generally working about six hours a day at home — which is probably far more than I do now. And who wants to listen to that? When I started getting complaints from the neighbours — I was learning a lot of new pieces and working on a lot of modern British composers, such as Peter Racine Fricker and John McCabe — I realised the only solution was to get a detached house, where I could play any time of the day or night. So my first wife (Celia Ballantyne, who at the time was working as an assistant on the arts desk at the Evening Standard) and I started looking.
I couldn’t afford to buy a house in London, or even in Gloucestershire, which was where I really wanted to live, at that time. So we started looking further afield and went 10 miles north of Banbury, to Upper Boddington, Northamptonshire. We bought Rose Cottage in Frog Lane for £14,600, and immediately changed the name — it was too twee — to Redesdale Cottage, after the first Lord Redesdale, an important historical figure from Moreton-in-Marsh, a place — and a pub — I knew as a student.
Upper Boddington was quite a poor village and Northamptonshire an unpretentious county. It wasn’t a fashionable area, and the M40 hadn’t been built yet. The house, in peaceful, unspoilt countryside, was an extraordinary hybrid: part of it was very old, dating back to the 17th century, and it had one exterior wall that had been rebuilt quite horribly, with reconstituted stone, when someone was trying to extend the house. It was a mess.
The cottage had three very small bedrooms at the top, all in a row, with this modern bit built on at the back: it had a kitchen down below and a bathroom up above. The good thing about it was the big sitting room that ran the whole length of the building. It had a nice, old fireplace — by far the best feature of the house and which was also very effective — and the property backed onto fields, cutting out the neighbour problem altogether. There was also an odd, uphill garden.
It was a very basic, functional house, but it served me well. I was working a huge amount in Britain then, driving everywhere, and the place was perfectly situated for the north and the south, even without the M40. It saved me a lot of overnight stays. It was always good to wake up at home.
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We didn’t do much entertaining at Redesdale, as I would often go there alone during the week from London. I had two cellos at that point, and got my present instrument in 1983 (a 1690 Stradivarius). I had to keep them upstairs at night, as I have to admit downstairs was a bit damp.
I used to have a lovely walk down to one of the local pubs, the Carpenter’s Arms, from Upper Boddington to Lower Boddington. It was about a half a mile downhill, with an absolutely beautiful view of the countryside, although it was always a bit harder to get back up again after a few pints.
When we first went to that pub, it was like being in someone’s sitting room. The bar was behind, in the kitchen area, and everything was served out of barrels. The old landlady could remember when the beer was kept in the bath — they would just dip a jug in the bath to serve people. It was pretty rustic.
We didn’t do anything to the property except paint inside. I did have thoughts of knocking down that horrible exterior wall, but I couldn’t face the disruption. I thought it would just be easier to get out. By 1989, I’d totally outgrown the house and had found the place where I live now, in the Cotswolds, the area in which I always wanted to live. It’s the Elgar connection, you see: when I was a student, getting out of London, I would always head west to the Malvern Hills, Elgar country.
I’ve travelled so much in the world and, no matter where I go, I still think parts of Britain are unparalleled in beauty. Though I’m sure a lot of people think of me as a “townie”, I’m really a country person: it has always been terribly important for me to have a base outside London.
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I sold the cottage for £90,000. They were good years there, though, my early years as a professional cellist. They were all about establishing myself, and I was working very, very hard.
I was so excited about moving to the new place, which I bought for just under £300,000, that I didn’t give much thought to leaving the old one. Once, years later, when I was doing a concert near there, I stopped in Lower Boddington for a lunchtime pint. The landlady had gone and the walk had been spoilt by the lights of the motorway. Life moves on ...
I look back on my home in Frog Lane with great gratitude. It wasn’t a spectacular or special house, but it was just right for me at that time. I just feel grateful for it — and for getting it so cheap.
Interview by Emma Wells