1. Leaving North Uist and moving to the mainland

MOVING to the mainland was significant in a number of ways. I had just started high school in Uist, which could have been a difficult time to make that adjustment. However, it wasn’t a negative experience.

It gave me a different perspective on the life that I had lived in Uist – the Gaelic that I had in my family, the community, the music and the culture. Although we hadn’t moved very far, just to Ross-shire, it was a place where Gaelic no longer had an equal place with English.

When I had started school in Uist there were only 12 in the school, and the head (and only) teacher, Isa MacKillop, had Gaelic and she would teach us songs. It wasn’t part of the curriculum, but we were so lucky to benefit from that.

2. The dusty oboe

AT Dingwall Academy I was given great encouragement in music. My teacher, Andrew Adamson, suggested that I take up an instrument, even though I was a little bit later than some in starting – I was 14. To study music and sit exams I had to play a “recognised” instrument. Even though I played the pipes they didn’t qualify.

He said there was one instrument left at the back of the cupboard. He said, “it’s an oboe”, and I remember saying to him “what’s an oboe?”. He pulled this dusty oboe from the back of the cupboard and said I could have it. I took it home and presented it to my parents. They looked at it and said, “what is that?”

We listened to a lot of different types of music, but classical didn’t really come into it. That one decision taken by him to give me that instrument began this amazing journey of music and wonderful teaching from Heather Hook and David Evans. The school even gave me time off to develop my playing at a school an hour away. This encouragement and support meant that I went on to study music at Strathclyde University. I rarely get a chance to play the oboe now, but it’s there and I do take it out from time to time.

3. The power of words

TEACHERS have had such a positive impact. I will forever be indebted to Calum Campbell, Dòmhnall Bàn Macdonald and the late Sandy Mackenzie from Strathpeffer who gave their music teaching for free.

However, I remember in sixth year I considered applying to study music and asked a temporary visiting oboe teacher what she thought. She said I wasn’t good enough and “you don’t have it in you”. And I listened. I put all those thoughts to one side.

I had three big loves – music, languages and sports – so when I filled in my university application form, I applied for languages and sports courses and submitted my form to the school one Friday afternoon.

On the Monday I asked for the form back. I replaced five of the six with music courses. I was accepted for them all and got an A in my final honours performance recital.

Those words have stayed with me though. No matter how many awards I’ve won, even walked the red carpet in Hollywood, it’s never the praise that comes back on days when self-doubt creeps in, it’s always “you don’t have it in you” .

Perhaps it drove me in some way but it niggles that those words still ring in my ears from time to time.

4. Learning to drive

I WAS desperate to learn to drive. I started on my 17th birthday, passed a couple of months later and I was off! I have strong memories of driving my mum’s Vauxhall Nova around the Highlands with mixtapes of all my favourite music, listening far louder than I could at home.

At that time Martyn Bennett was my main inspirational soundtrack, but you could also have heard Runrig, Elizabeth Fraser from the Cocteau Twins or Massive Attack blaring from the windows. Everything from the Prodigy to Planxty, Aretha Franklin to Capercaillie.

That freedom of roaming around the Highlands, meeting up with friends, having sessions, playing gigs and all the while that music was embedding itself in my mind, shaping me. It felt like getting my wings and learning to fly.

5. Guillain–Barré

MY mam developed this in 2002. She went from an energetic, fully-fit woman in her 50s, to being paralysed from the neck down overnight. My parents had just moved to Perthshire, which meant she was taken to Ninewells in Dundee, where she had amazing specialist care as it’s a teaching hospital. The doctor who identified it as Guillain–Barré Syndrome probably saved her life that day. She was in hospital just two weeks short of a year.

I had just started my first full-time job in Dingwall and memories of that year are mainly of driving the A9 at all hours and of watching my mother having to relearn everything, from sitting up to feeding herself.

Even though it was my first proper job and I had just got a mortgage, I handed in my notice. That kind of decision was unlike me, and it’s difficult to explain it other than perhaps I wasn’t coping well with what was happening. I thought I could maybe play music for that year to get by and then find another job – but I never did go back. In a strange and sad way that was the catalyst for becoming a full-time musician. Watching how hard my mam has worked over the past 16 years has been an inspiration. She is the most amazing woman and any time I feel tired or defeated, she comes into my mind.

6. Finding my feet again

WHEN I was younger, I used to run a lot, to the point where I competed at national level. Three girls from the village and I won the Scottish championships for cross country running as a team during my last year at school.

When I became a touring musician and then a mother, I couldn’t find the time to stay as active. It felt like a selfish thing to do, putting that time aside. About five years ago though, I ended up signing up for something called the 5x50 Challenge. It was set up Raymond Wallace, who is local to us, and it simply meant you had to cover 5k every day for 50 days by running, walking, cycling – however you wanted. The idea is that by 50 days it’s habit-forming. I managed to cram it in, however I could, and even if I was touring, I did something every day. It’s never stopped.

That properly changed things for me because it got me back into a rhythm and since then I have taken up road cycling and rowing.

It’s such a tonic during and after a tour and allows you that bit of space for yourself. I’ve also used it to raise money for GAIN, the Guillain-Barré syndrome charity, among others.

7. Molagh Uibhist (In praise of Uist)

THIS is a beautiful Gaelic song that was the first truly challenging song that I had to learn and which was taught to me by my neighbour in Uist. His name was Uisdean Sheumais or Hugh Matheson and when I was growing up, he and his wife Màiri were simply a lovely couple we would visit for tea and biscuits.

This song, by Ruairidh Mackay, known as the Iollaraigh Bàrd, had such depth and connected me so deeply to the place – by the language, in the vocabulary, but also by the singer I was learning it from. It was one of the first times that I could say, “I understand this. I know these hills. I know these places”. That was the beginning of a journey for me, in exploring local songs, which made the island come alive to me. My focus nowadays is connecting in that same way to the landscape where I live now - to learn from those who have gone before.

8. Sabhal Mòr Ostaig

GOING to Sabhal Mòr Ostaig, the Gaelic college on Skye, was a turning point in so many ways. After I finished my music degree, I spent a year there taking a Gaelic course. I actually went back eight years later to do a Masters.

I feel an incredibly close association to the college and it obviously gave me a great grounding in Gaelic.

However, one of the best things that happened to me during my time there was having the chance to study with Iain MacDonald (pictured), the great piper and whistle player. Even though I had gone to improve my Gaelic, what I learned from Iain, and from singing teacher Christine Primrose, had a huge effect on me.

9. Dòchas

EVEN though I wanted to study music, it was never my intention to perform. That changed when I joined a band called Dòchas. There were five of us at the beginning – all female, which was unusual at the time – and we travelled the length and breadth of the Highlands.

Often, the people booking the concerts would really be organising a dance. They would let us play for an hour before getting down to the real business of playing for a four-hour dance. We spent years of setting up PAs, playing marathon dances, dismantling PAs and packing it all into tiny cars. These were some of the most fun years of my life.

10. Family

I FEEL lucky to have such a close family. My inspiring mother, my amazing sister Shelle and my father, the man who taught me how to play golf, appreciate a good dram and work hard for yourself – and who looks after us all.

My husband Éamon and my children are at the centre of everything I do. At home I speak only Gaelic to the children, apart from a couple of times when a row warranted a telling off in two languages.

Éamon and I met on an initiative that had musicians from Scotland and Ireland and toured both countries. The idea was to strengthen the links between Scotland and Ireland and it certainly did that!