No tears over spilt milk

And so back to Heraklion at last ... I drive first to the boat, to check what time I can go on board - the night ends so early next morning, I think I might get a early start to it too ... That's fine, I can go on board from 7.30 pm for the 9 pm departure, that allows time for a last gyros in town, then to Georgious Kafetzakis (or do I mean Yoannis? there are only two possibilities, anyway) ...

I realise by now that I'm a bit nervous about returning the first car I'd ever hired in a foreign country - of course I haven't caused any damage that I know of and have filled up the petrol, but it has got pretty dusty up there on those tiny mountain tracks, I've noticed a tiny area of scraped-away paint on the trailing edge of each door, and of course I've managed to spill a bit of milk on the passenger seat ... Kyrie Kafetzakis isn't expecting me before 7 pm anyway, so I have the idea of waiting till dark before delivering it ...

In the event, he doesn't look at the petrol gauge, he doesn't look at the paintwork, he doesn't look at the upholstery: he just asks me if I've been to the places he suggested and if everything has been OK, drives me back down to the boat, makes sure I have everything that's mine, gives me a warm handshake and his web-page address, waves goodbye and drives off ... WHAT a relief!