I know Cyprus well.  I was out there as a child between '48 & '59 with the EOKA - pronounced IOKA at it's most active.  When we first went out there we had to refuel overrnight in Turkey - The Daks couldn't make it on a full tank of fuel!  Laughable by today's standards where flying time it takes just two and a quarter hours.  I was six months old when I went out there and came back when I was ten so part of my schooling was done out there, the other part in the UK.  Like kids growing up in Northern Ireland, I grew up with tanks  and Tommy guns on every street corner and the deafening scream of Hawker Hunters on high speed low altitude manouvers.  With week-long curfews it was little wonder my schooling went to pot.  Although there was tension we made the most of it with virtually every weekend seeing us at Kyrenia or Famagusta.  My late father worked for BEA - British European Airways, for the ten years we were out there.  

I have been all over the Far East but Cyprus holds it's fondest memories which is the one reason I would never go back.  The Kyrenia I remember was s simple fishing port with it's fort.  If I returned tomorrow I would see a very different Cyprus where urbanisation would have reared it's ugly head and seaside ports would have been swamped out by holiday hotels, half of them bombed out.  The Cyprus I knew would be shattered forever whereas my memories will last a lifetime and at my age, memories are all I need.  Long live the dream.