African drummers, Breton guitarists, poets and local gentry were among the constant eclectic stream of people found in our home upon returning from school, in deep and light conversations about music, philosophy and cooking, drawn to our mothers magnetism.
We were very much involved in her life, staying with her in the studio while recording in Antrim or travelling the length an breath of Ireland and further afield to gigs and festival with Lá Lugh on tours that doubled up as family holidays in our very small campervan that could barely manage four people let alone a family of six!
She loved an adventure and nature with endless walks around our home in the Cooley Mountains or long strolls by the sea at Templetown Beach. She was extremely thoughtful and I remember lovely surprises of being collected early from school to search for horse chestnuts in the Deerpark in autumn.
Always singing, always warm, a gentle mother who spoke the softest of Gaelic, she loved a glass of Guinness and a foot rub from her kids – even at the hefty price of 50p. Maybe a soft touch, as we would run riot when our father was away on tour, but only because we were so close and loved her dearly.