The second retreat, just five days after returning from Croatia, was much closer to home.
The Lake District.
Two nights in Thomas de Quincey's old gaff (first built in 1565 and extended in 1702, his spice cupboard and opium room are still there) in the cosiest little bedroom with views of Rydal Water.
Yoga three times a day in front of a log burner in the barn, with inquisitive sheep having a neb through the glass doors.
Delicious veggie/vegan meals in quantities which were double what had been served the week previously in Croatia. (When we were presented with huge, steaming bowlfuls of carrot and ginger soup and a basket of bread the first evening, my yoga teacher whispered, ''Do you think I should take a picture and send it to the Pirate Chef with the caption, 'This is what a portion looks like' ?'')
There was ample opportunity during the weekend for some solitary exploration of the local area, including a nose round Rydal Mount, Wordsworth's home for the last 37 years of his life. His portrait and various possessions are there, along with his cat. Well, not his actual cat, the cat that currently lives at the house.
The little village church has some impressive stained glass and nearby Rydal Hall's woods, waterfalls and gardens were well worth a mooch.
This is a stunning part of the world, clothed as it currently is in gloriously autumnal colours, and with temperatures and light which are so much more 'me' than Croatia.
It was time to burst the yoga retreat bubble all too soon.
Upward dog on the mat in the spare room with a spaniel licking your face just isn't the same.
Ah, well.
Namaste.