For weeks I’d been aware of the latest blockbuster exhibition at Tate Britain—Turner & Constable: Rivals and Originals—but then as with so many things, time suddenly disappeared, and it was into its final weeks. Often, I simply give up at that point but I really wanted to see this one. So we set aside a day and keen to make the most of our trip I booked afternoon tickets for the annual Wildlife Photographer of the Year exhibition at the Natural History Museum. We were dazzled by it a few years ago, and with our recent expedition to the Kalahari Desert fresh in our minds, we were eager for some more exposure to the natural world. A day in London, Spring sunshine, two great exhibitions…

What could possibly go wrong?

Well, it wasn’t the Turner & Constable. That was fascinating. Two great artists, born less than a year apart, the exhibition highlighted their contrasting styles and how as rivals, they influenced one another. We agreed that we both still preferred Turner but that the detail in Constable’s work was exquisite when viewed close-up. Afterwards, we got the bus from Millbank to South Kensington and popped into Pret for a late lunch. Some spicy Moroccan lentil soup hit the spot but we had things to do so we didn’t linger, and I picked up my handbag ready to set off again. ‘I’ll only be a minute,’ said Mike, heading to the loo while I stayed sitting at the table, staring out of the window at the Easter school-holiday crowds that were pouring in and out of the Tube station.

I was lost in a daydream when I felt a tap on my left shoulder, and spun round to see a man gesturing at the seat behind me as if asking to sit down. ‘Odd..,’ I thought but nodded and then clocked that something definitely was odd as instead of sitting down he sped away. It all happened in a second or two and as I turned back to the table I saw a woman hanging about, and then she darted off just as I noticed that my handbag was on the seat beside me, wide open. I couldn’t be sure whether I’d left it like that but realised instantly that I’d fallen for the distraction trick and knew before even checking that my purse would be missing. For one fiery, furious moment, I considered chasing them but of course they’d chosen their location cunningly and had melted into the crowd outside. Nor would I even have recognised them—all I’d noticed was that they were small, and of Southeast Asian origin, with baseball caps pulled down over their foreheads.

Mike was only gone a few minutes, and when he came back he was astonished to discover that so much had happened. I explained it all in the fewest words possible and was already on my phone cancelling my credit card. He quickly cottoned on and phoned our bank. Fortunately, no money was taken from our accounts and the immediate practicalities were sorted quickly though there would be plenty more to plough through the following day in replacing my driving licence, bus pass, library cards, and various loyalty cards. I would also have to buy a new purse and had already resolved to replace my handbag with a more secure cross-body bag.

The emotions were harder to deal with. I felt thoroughly foolish as I was all too aware that I’d been inattentive—lulled by the relaxed pleasure of a day out. I was particularly exasperated with myself as I’d been in a similar state of dreamy enjoyment when my laptop and passport, and Mike’s camera, were stolen from a train in the Netherlands a few years ago. There was sadness, too, at losing the rose-patterned purse that was a present from my daughter, as well as irritation that I’d been carrying £35 in cash when typically I’m cash-free. Worst of all were the feelings of injustice and violation. If I’d simply dropped my purse in the river, I wouldn’t have been anywhere near as upset.

A strong coffee might have been a first step but instead we decided to carry on with our day, even though we were now late for our timed entry. We weren’t going to let the scumbags steal that from us. It felt like a minor victory and we had a wry laugh, too, when I found my Tate membership card in my pocket. At least the odious thieves wouldn’t be able to enjoy free art exhibitions on their day off.

The staff at the museum nodded sympathetically when I explained what had happened and let us skip the queues. We made our way through the cathedral-like hall, past the mighty dinosaur skeletons, the blue whale suspended from the ceiling, and crowds of excited children with backpacks. It was a relief that the exhibition rooms were so quiet—the Tate exhibition had been packed and we’d had to wait patiently to look at each painting. This time I needed a bit of peace to recover my equilibrium, and although I was frequently distracted by flares of upset, we both loved the exhibition. It’s on until July 12th and there are a hundred photos on display—the very best of over 60,000 that were entered in the competition, attracting photographers from 113 countries. They depict a wondrous range of animals and plants, capturing drama, beauty and humour. Many are moving, and some are shocking. I wholeheartedly recommend it and include a small selection here.

Afterwards, in the spirit of being kind to ourselves, we decided to go to Elephant and Castle, instead of getting the train home straightaway. I’d recently spent a day there doing research for my next book and had discovered the wonderful Mercato Metropolitano —a street food market with over forty stalls offering a huge range of cuisines. On the way, the bus driver smiled understandingly and waved me on when I explained why I didn’t have my bus pass. And as we tucked into our Mauritian dinner, my grown-up children sent messages of support. Most touching of all, my sister texted to say she had transferred some money to my account to replace my lost cash. ‘Don’t argue,’ she said. ‘I’m doing it for no other reason that that you are my sister.’ The meal was exceptionally tasty and one of the joys of street food is that you can talk to the person who cooked it. When we went back to thank him and recounted what had happened, he empathised, saying that he’d recently had a similar experience. Human connections and kind words brighten the gloom like nothing else.

I could have done with some of that the following day. Notifying all the necessary organisations about my stolen items turned out to be a gruelling affair, as I wasted hours tangled up in loops with AI systems that were at best incompetent, and worst completely mad. My card has been stolen,’ I would start, phrasing my problem as simply as I could. ‘So you want to change your email address,’ said one virtual customer assistant. I tried disagreeing but it didn’t understand, so after several rounds I agreed, just to see what would happen. That didn’t go well, either. I won’t bore you with the tedious events of that morning—I don’t want to sound like an old person complaining about modern life. All I need to say is that after being in a maddening loop with the DVLC where they insisted I don’t have a driving licence—despite 46 years of car ownership—I finally got through to a real person. He was Welsh and reassuring, and within two minutes he had unlocked the mystery like magic—I’d omitted my middle name. Well, the online form hadn’t said I had to include it… 

More or less everything is now resolved and life has returned to normal. But I continue to think about the Wildlife Photography exhibition. Many of the images highlight the impact of humankind on our incredible planet. They are compelling and informative but after my encounter with thieves, it was predation that had been uppermost in my mind that afternoon, so the ones I’ve chosen here are all about animals preying on other species. The animals have to. Or they starve. It’s we humans who prey on our own species. 

We don’t have to.

All photos are of images displayed the Wildlife Photographer of the Year 2026 Exhibition, and were captured by Mike Poppleton.

Photographer credits

A close call between a thirsty dove and an opportunistic jackal at a Kalahari waterhole: Willie van Schalkwyk (South Africa)

A rose-ringed parakeet delivers a painful nip to the tail of a Bengal monitor who hopes to raid its nest: Hira Punjabi (India)

A young Iberian lynx plays with a rodent before killing and devouring it: Josef Stefan (Spain)

A ladyfish snatches its prey from right under a little egret’s beak: Qingrong Yang (China)

A diamondback water snake slowly swallows an American bullfrog: Nick Kanakis (USA)

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