Northern Cyprus has a historic appeal that has long been lost in the busy resorts and cities of the south. In fact, much of the quiet charm that drew Lawrence Durrell here in the fifties is tangible today. Northern Cyprus remains endearingly ageless and if you listen carefully; you can still hear the creak of donkey carts beneath the rumble of four-wheel-drives. The air is heavy with the perfume of jasmine, hibiscus and fig and the land is a patchwork of citrus orchards, olive groves and manicured vineyards.

Northern Cyprus’ appeal lies in the Gothic castles that stud the mountain peaks, the Venetian fortifications which guard long-abandoned ports and the call to prayer which echoes out as it has done for hundreds of years. The melancholy wreckage of a thousand imperial dreams litters the landscape; Byzantine basilicas and abandoned amphitheatres crumble along the coast and the tombs of ancient kings yawn open; their treasures looted long ago. You can wander the wild courtyards of Famagusta, the sand-shrouded ruins of Salamis and the ruined abbey at Bellapais and afterwards watch the sun setting over a landscape that has altered little since the survivors of Troy washed up on its rocky shores.

For anyone wanting to escape the UK ’s grizzly winters, Northern Cyprus offers a perfect refuge. In the summer months the glassy waters shimmer and the sun beats down unhampered by cloud. Northern Cyprus is best visited in spring, when the bloom of wildflower coats the hills and fields and the air is still cool. After sunset tables piled high with mouth-watering meze spill out of restaurants and conversations get more increasingly animated with every glass of raki.