I don't know the Fens that well, better since I've been reading Roger Deakin, but still not that well; so much so that slow-flowing rivers which deceive the eye to the point where any movement seems imperceptible come as quite a surprise to me.
We are used after all to living 'twixt the Tavy, the second fastest flowing river in the country, with its rolling, peaty tumble down from Dartmoor and the Tamar, saving us from Trelawney's Army across the border, a wide river which can get a fair lick on when it puts its mind to it.
The gentle River Cam was quite a revelation.
It hardly seems to flow anywhere, perfect stillness and walking alongside gives that sense of pensive relaxation that the Tavy doesn't quite seem to yield.
The Tavy always makes me want to walk fast to keep up.
Lovely to see a familiar Cambridge sight and again I thought of a punt on the Tavy, and how you'd likely be across the Atlantic before you'd even picked up the pole.
Later in the day and off to Ely to hear Margaret Atwood in the cathedral and The Year of the Flood event (more on that soon) but if there's one thing I love besides actually seeing and hearing a writer who is one of my heroes, then it has to be a jolly good cathedral and the Ship of the Fens was no disappointment.
My camera not up to getting it all into one shot but this is one stunning edifice in all its magnificent glory.
A pewless cathedral making it ideal for a wide range of events beyond those it was designed for, and the hassocks seemed to represent every village in the diocese and I just happened to catch sight of this one.
Believer or non- I don't see how anyone can fail to be moved by a nave the size and height of this one, that first glimpse quite took my breath away.
But look again at the exterior shot and that pinnacled dome at the far end towards the chancel.
The low performance stage was sited right beneath that and we were seated not twelve feet from it (which was no mean achievement given that the Cathedral seemed packed to the rafters)
I glanced up at that octagonal dome, was mesmerised and continued to be so.
It's almost impossible to convey the height of this but it is quite stunning and how my little Olympus 6.0 megapixel camera managed this on its 'Available Light' setting with no flash I have no idea because it seemed about two miles up.
Just to prove that Margaret Atwood was really there...