I'd been to a lunchtime do at the old Station Hotel in Richmond, scene of the Stones earliest residency. A warm day, I'd worn no jacket, just jeans, a shirt & waistcoat. My mobile phone fit comfortably in the waistcoat pocket. Changing trains at Acton I discovered that it also slid out of the pocket with equal ease. As the doors closed and the train left the station I knew at once the phone was gone. Had I realized even seconds earlier, I could have jumped back onboard and retrieved it. 

Two Asian school kids, aged about 12, were waving at me from the departing train. Runts. I found a pay phone, on the platform, and made a couple of calls. About 20 minutes passed & I made ready to get onboard the next Piccadilly line train. Go home. Useless day anyway. Stupid bloody Station Hotel. Stupid bloody phones.

Just then two Asian kids appeared waving my phone! They'd jumped off the northbound train at Ealing, crossed over, caught the next southbound train back to Acton Town & looked around for me.

I was most impressed -- mainly that they'd bothered. Mobile phones are scarcely worth nicking these days: you'd be lucky to get a 10 rock from your crack dealer.  I gave the kids a fiver each; they seemed pleased.