I was clearly an easy target, writes Brian Byrne. Left my hotel earlier, pulling my soft trolley carry-on, small rucksack on my back with keyboard and iPad. Camera in my right hand, doing some street and bridges stuff (above) along by the Seine down from Isle de la Cite.
Turned onto Pont Neuf, quiet on a Saturday morning. Two guys in their 20s, waving competition cards. "Speak English? Big prize. Sign here, please?" Shook my head. "Not interested. No." Persistent, the guy in front crowding, big smile. "Please, mister. Sign. Good prize."
Classic distraction pickpocket attempt. I pushed forward, spotted the second guy's hand slipping towards the zip on my jacket pocket. Reaching it, starting to pull. Hands full, I turned, yelled loud into his ear. He jerked, they gave up, scarpered, empty handed. They'd only have got my reading glasses, don't keep anything of value in outside pockets when I'm travelling.
The third time. The first on a bus in Rome, on the way to the Vatican, notorious for the crime (the buses, I mean). Felt it in the crush, turned, caught the guy's eye, he pushed away. Later, getting off the bus, somebody said their wallet was gone ...
The next getting onto a train in Barcelona. Man in front stopped suddenly, somebody behind bumped. Felt a hand on my back pocket, turned, caught a young fellow in the chest with my elbow. Hard. "Oh. Sorry," I said, pushed my way onto the train, past his confederate.
Three times lucky. Someone, sometime, may succeed. But I'm watching ...
