Imagine dating Joni Mitchell. I’d try it once. We’d go for a walk in the park, so long as it wasn’t paved. Maybe she’d be humming a tune, possibly something such as ‘Why Do Fools Fall In Love?’ – or maybe she’d whistle it. I’d whistle a taxi, naturally. I’d make sure it was yellow, and big enough for the both of us. And then we could hang out in a log cabin somewhere, drinking wine and chatting and reading poetry. Then Joni would pick up her dulcimer and pluck out a song of her own. And I’d spend the rest of my time there trying to guess if it was about James Taylor, or Graham Nash, or David Crosby, or Neil Young, or one of The Eagles….or maybe – after a date or three – I would be able to leave, and end it all – successfully, letting her sing to someone else, all about me.