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The 8am Yoga Man
by Lily Murphy

Years ago when I was a student I had an early morning class every Thursday morning which I thoroughly feared.

As a party loving hard drinking university student, I used to dread the fact of rising extra early on those Thursday mornings where I had to be in my seat and bright eyed by 8:30am, but little did I know that my walk to college served as a great tonic to shake the sleepy hung over head off me.

Every Thursday morning, be it under sun or snow, I trudged my weary body towards campus. The route I took was a short cut through a batch of old houses where you could hear nothing more than the sound of curtains opening and the clatter of milk bottles on the door steps.

I usually made my way through this area at around 8am, I timed it well so as I had at least five minutes to spare for a cup of coffee before class started at 8:30, but on one of these mornings I didn’t need coffee to wake me up because my eyes caught sight of something which suddenly woke me out of my zombie like morning trance.

There, standing in his living room and facing the open window was someone I christened as the 8am yoga man, and every Thursday morning at that time he did his yoga there buck naked to the world. The only thing he was wearing was a thick pair of glasses on his wizened old face.

Every Thursday morning I would try to avert my gaze coming upon the house of the 8am yoga man and this went on right through the cold winter into the tepid spring until one morning as I was nearing his abode on my way into college I heard the ear shattering screech of a woman.

‘ANDREW!!!!!!! Put some pants on and get away from that window, I don’t want people thinking I married you for your money!!’

So that morning I learned a lot. I learned the 8am yoga man had a name: Andrew, I learned that he had a wife, and I also learned that it was to be the last time he would do his yoga in the nip again, at least by the open window in his sitting room anyway!