Wonder

I am standing on the back of the boat, steering us between the reeds lining the canal. Rain bounces off the water creating thousands of intersecting ripples. Rain drips off the bottom of my waterproof jacket onto my trousers. The arhythmic percussion of rain patters on my hood. My sandals grip well on the wet metal but my feet are cold.

Above the reeds I can see across the potato fields and the golden stubble to distant trees, hazy through the thickness of rain.

As the others finish breakfast and start on their first lesson I am brought a mug of coffee. It warms my right hand. My left is on the tiller making tiny adjustments to keep us on course. They feel insignificant but when I try leaving the tiller to itself we very soon veer towards the reeds.

Near me a bird rises, flaps, floats on the breeze for a bit and descends. For the joy if it, I suppose. There can't be any insects up there.

What would that bird wonder about me, bedraggled and alone in the wetness? Even to myself I cannot explain the joy of it.

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At the end of the first lesson a student takes over the driving from me so I can finish preparing their second lesson. On numbers. I don't think many EFL teachers teach numbers - there is very little in course books - but I think they are important, and a challenge in a foreign language. When, for example, do the British say 'nought', when 'zero' and when 'oh'. And the Americans? How do you pronounce the difference between 13 and 30 when everyone swallows the final 'n'? How do you tell someone your phone number?

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And ever on.

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For a couple of months during its 900th anniversary, Peterborough cathedral is displaying the bewilderingly small capsule that returned Tim Peake (and two others but they were Russian and American so we don't bother to learn their names) to earth two years ago. It looks for all the world like a bit of steam-punkery and I find it very hard to believe that it travelled at 17,000 mph before slowing enough to be able to parachute into a field in Kyrgystan.

As a result of this strangeness in the north transept, it is heaving with people - I have never been in such a welcoming cathedral where awe, reverence and wonder felt so accessible. My favourite overheard comment was from a child trying to put two and two together: 'Do you need gravity for air?'

Full of wonder. Keep those questions coming!