This is what I took away from the Natural History Wildlife Photographer of the Year exhibition:
A lone polar bear on drifting ice.
The snout and tail of a fox, vertical, caught just as it jumped into a blue sky.
A raven that, with its feathers fluffed up, was transformed.
A tied-up baby baboon with a face filled with terror in the arms of a small boy.
A sleeping macaque with bagged eyes, so familiar that it almost looked human.
This is what I took away from yesterday:
That brunch is a wonderful invention, especially when you have it at the Dean Street Townhouse and it includes warm doughy bread that you can stretch apart.
That there is something magical about London in the winter, when the coldness wakes you up without reaching the stage of discomfort and the buildings stand out against a clear grey sky. When the excitement of Christmas is simmering but has not yet become the chaos that puts you off going out.
That you can go through an amazing spectrum of experiences and emotions in one day.
That the world is so incredibly big and contains so many unimaginable things.