Never one to make a tradition, the next day I tried the coffee house three doors down.  I wish I had gone there first, it being warmer and more friendly. As I settled back and unfolded my newspaper I had this uneasy feeling...I raised my eyes to see the couple come through the door who, yesterday, had been so keen to sit in my chair with me.  Now, I was beginning to think uncharitable thoughts like, 'do people who go to more than one church have more than one reserved seat?' and 'were they going to forcibly evict me from this chair as well?'  They eyed me closely and had that look in their eyes.  I stared back and gave them the Clint Eastwood look - go ahead: make my day.  I was up for a fight over that chair and lost my appetite for my morning coffee.  They backed off and I claimed the victor's spoils!  I wanted to go but felt obliged to remain and make the most of the hard-fought battle of the chair.  So I stayed there for a good 10 minutes, keeping a careful eye over the top of my newspaper.  Having remained for what I thought was an appropriate time, I got up to go and walked back to the safety of the retreat house.  As I walked away I was tempted to look back over my shoulder to see whether they had make a dash for my chair.  However, not wanting to be turned into a pillar of salt, I set my face like flint and carried on.  I'll never know if they enjoyed the warmth of my seat.  It's probably for the best...