It was just lying there when we arrived. Boldly, right in Colin’s usual spot, a narrow strip of turquoise with an elaborate design of gold flowers twisting up the centre.

“It’s a bit of cheek,” said Marjorie, her breath misting up the glass panel in the door. “When Sally hasn’t even got here to set up yet.”

“Gaudy too,” sniffed Colin, hefting his own yoga mat onto his shoulder. “You don’t need a fancy mat for a fulfilling practice. Whoever she is, she’s vain. She’s showing off. That’s not what yoga is supposed to be about.”

“All the gear and no idea,” agreed Marjorie.

Then Sally bustled up behind us with her big Ikea bag full of blocks and belts.

“Looks like someone’s beaten you to it today Colin!”

Colin scowled and made a point of hanging pack to allow her to go in before him.

The class filed in and set up around the offending article, eyeing it mistrustfully. But there was no sign of its owner. Colin put himself directly behind it.

Just as Sally had given up and opened her mouth to tell everyone to centre themselves, the door swung open. In walked a tall, slim sixty something year old woman, swathed in flowing multicoloured robes, damp hair bundled into a towel turban.

“So sorry I’m late,” chimed the newcomer, not sounding sorry at all. “I thought I’d set up and go for a swim. Lost track of the time.”

To Colin’s intense irritation, the woman fell elegantly into a wide-legged forward fold, head touching her mat. The early morning light cascaded in through the window as the class progressed, spotlighting the woman beautifully in a soft pink glow. All eyes were on her and she eased into a perfect Warrior 3.

At the end of the class Colin edged his way towards the group of us who’d gone to welcome the newcomer. Secretly I was cautiously optimistic that she might be a breath of fresh air amid the Colin’s and Marjories of the group.

“I don’t expect anyone has told you,” Colin interrupted, “but we do have our own little spots here in this class. I wouldn’t want you to feel uncomfortable by taking someone else’s…”

“Oh, and darling, I’ve gone and taken yours. I _am_ sorry. Say no more.”

The following day, the newcomer’s mat was tucked considerately into the opposite corner of the room. Colin strode in smugly behind Sally and stood wide legged, proprietorial.

We flowed through our sun salutations, Colin eagerly awaiting the big moment when the sun would outline him in resplendence, highlighting his still-supple-at-seventy-six form.

But the sun rose above the horizon just as Colin’s leg reached its peak in Utthita Eka Padasana - a shaft of brilliant yellow light brutally piercing his left eye at his most vulnerable moment.

He blinked, squinted, screwing up his eyes so that his laughter lines formed black cracks against the first light of the new day.

Colin threw a desperate arm out to save his balance, but it was too late. His poise was compromised, and Colin fell to the mat with an undignified crash, his vanity smashed to pieces on his plain grey yoga mat