With Sandy on the shore

This serene spring morning is filled with thoughts of Sandy Denny, not that it needed the 30th-anniversary reminders in the media. Sandy's death hit me hard: we were born in the same year and damn' nearly died in the same year. I remember looking at the dates on the obit in the Melody Maker and thinking, "Why her and not me?" I only saw her once, when Fairport played UEA in the spring of 1975, this lovely luminous woman, the flowers on her dress the same tawny gold as her hair.

I sang "White Dress" at the Nelson last week but it was the following day when I had the real Sandy moment. She used to sing Richard Farina's song "The Quiet Joys of Brotherhood", which begins, "As gentle tides go rolling by, along the salt sea strand/The colours blend and roll as one, together in the sand". Now, I've heard those lines dozens of times without really stopping to think. What colours? Foam is white, isn't it?

Well, there I was in my favourite place, on the very edge of the salt sea strand, and even at Cromer with a brisk easterly there is a still moment when the outgoing tide pauses and yawns before beginning to edge towards land again. And there at my feet the foam was reflecting and refracting the light from a slightly hazy sun, with bubbles in all the colours of the rainbow lying briefly on the sand before winking out. I had never seen this before - was it unique, or have I simply been blind to it?

Whatever - it was a moment to cherish. Thank you, Richard. Thank you, Sandy