Much of my journey in Kazakhstan was about understanding the legacy of the Soviet times and finding out what remained of nomadic.

I love the Altai Mountains. Crimea, despite all the conflict, is a remarkable place historically, culturally and physically. The mountains drop down into the sea. Porpoises swim in the shallows. Horses gallop through the grass. There are huge rocks, castles, caves.

In wider spaces, people bearing historical grudges with each other were separated by the muting qualities of distance.

Had I not stepped into the saddle in the first place, entire cultures, histories, and most importantly, profound connections with people and animals whom I now counted as my friends would have otherwise passed by, invisible.

I worked in an office for eight years, so I know what it's like to slog through for money, but now to be able travel the world and sing to so many people, it's a complete dream come true.

I've met the most interesting people while flying or on a boat. These methods of travel seem to attract the kind of people I want to be with.

I would love to go back to any time in European history, especially in Irish history, to the second or third century, prior to the arrival of Christianity when Paganism flourished. I can always go back there in my imagination, of course. It doesn't cost anything, and it's a form of time travel, I suppose.

The first voyagers to the stars will be creatures whose life cycle is matched to the voyage: the aeons involved in traversing the galaxy are not daunting to immortal beings. By the end of the third millennium, travel to other stars could be technically feasible. But would there be sufficient motive?