Yesterday’s anniversary of the death of Sandy Denny (37 years ago. She was 31) had me indulging myself in a Sandy-Fest. Her voice has beguiled me for many of my 58 years. A song will crop up, in these days of Shuffle and Playlists, and catch me unawares. This came on the other day. It is my favourite song that she ever sang. I adore everything about it, and it is one of those songs that I wrap around myself, for comfort, and solace, and sanctuary. My wife found me gazing out of the window as it played, looking at nothing in particular, and completely unaware that she was in the room. After several attempts to rouse me by calling my name, she leaned in and kissed me, softly, on the cheek. I could have cried. She just gets me. I am so lucky.