"In summer petty crime assumed more humorous proportions. There were always the pickpockets abroad on the streets, in the trams, in the buses - everywhere. Few of them were ever caught. Unless you travelled in your own car or rickshaw then you could reckon to lose at least three fountain-pens a year, a wallet or two, even your outside pockets carefully slit away by razorblades.

But the most athletic performers were the hat-snatchers. Those were the days of panama hats, of straw boaters and similar light headgear. They were also days of steamy heat when the windows of trams and buses were pushed wide open to allow cooling breezes to make city travel a little more bearable.

It was a common sight to see a well-dressed Chinese gentleman, seated by a window, beautifully hatted, patiently waiting for the vehicle to start. Even more patient was the chap seemingly waiting for another tram or bus on the concrete of the terminus, his head just reaching the bottom edge of the opened window. No sooner had the vehicle started than the patient loiterer sprang to life. His arm went up, his grasping fingers reached for the hat, grabbed it, whipped it into the open air and he was off. Not a hope for the hatless passenger to take up the chase as the vehicle gathered speed and was soon a good quarter of a mile away.

What the thieves did with the hats they snatched I do not know. As they seemed to select the best headgear it would be a safe bet to assume that they trotted off to the nearest gentleman's clothiers and there sold the spoils. They never got me. I was worried about falling hair - I blamed the tight-fitting army headgear for that - and I never wore a hat in Shanghai.