I wake a few times in the night, but when I finally have to recognise that sleep is gone, it's still only 8.30, horribly early for a holiday Sunday - but I've slept for 12 hours, so there's nothing for it but to get up ... I find it takes conscious energy to fight off the feeling of pointlessness about being on holiday alone in places which have no other reason for existence than providing facilities for people on holiday, but I'm managing so far.

No sign of breakfast, but I have half-a-loaf of bread in the car and a big jar of rather delicious Cretan honey I got from a little supermarket where I was the only customer yesterday: more runny than I would have chosen, but never mind.

OK, here goes: I'm rather afraid that, apart from the busy cities, the whole of Crete is just like those artificial ghost villages and that what I'm looking for doesn't exist, but there's no point in delaying finding out anyway ...

It feels odd that there's no-one to tell that I was leaving the room, but I guess that's their choice ...