It’s all about Winnie the Pooh in our family at the moment. The audio book lives in the car, so everywhere we go, Pooh goes too. Today, Pooh was on an Expotition to the North Pole. And we were on an Expotition to Kantara Castle. The sun was shining, the sky was blue and we were in a happy family bubble.

Kantara Castle, along with St Hilarion and Buffavento, is one of the three great castles of the Five Finger Mountains in North Cyprus. It’s an hour’s drive from Famagusta across the Mesaoria Plain. Or it should be if you follow all the signs and don’t end up on someone’s farm, like we did. The farm track took us up the mountain but it was slow-going and I could see Matt grimacing as we tried to ignore the 200m drop just the other side of the car door. There is, however, a very good road to Kantara – which we discovered on the way back.

‘Right, let’s play ‘Spot the Castle,’’ I suggested, as we drove up. ‘Who will see it first?’

This may sound ridiculously easy, but you’d be surprised. The mountains have huge rocky outcrops and the castles totally blend in with them. With St Hilarion, I was all ‘So where is this massive great castle then? . . . Oh there it is, staring me in the face.’ You can get to within a mile of it before you suddenly see this enormous structure clinging to the side of the mountain. Kantara Castle was a bit like that too. We rounded a corner and there it was, looming over us.

We could see immediately that Kantara had been built by the Lusignans, the same people as St Hilarion. Tall walls, gothic arched windows and the impression that the castle had somehow grown out of the mountain. We parked the car and I opened the door.

‘MRROOAAWWWW!!!’

Oh my god, we’ve accidentally brought Frodo! Of course we hadn’t, but this cat sounded exactly the same. It was part of a noisy feline welcoming committee, who, it turned out, were rather partial to ginger biscuits.

Eager to explore the castle, Goobie and I quickly nipped to the loo. And here is where our lovely family bubble got a kicking. Using impeccable manners, Goobie asked whether I would mind holding his hoodie, please, while he used the loo. For the duration of one wee I basked in the glow of our excellent parenting – we’ve raised such a polite little boy.

And then he Turned.

Parents of four year-olds will know that this is the age of independence and lots of attitude. Goobie can be amazingly wonderfully lovely one moment, then, in a second, can turn into Godzilla if he feels his independence has been challenged.  It appears I challenged his independence by asking, ever so politely, if he could hold my water bottle while I had a wee.

The Pinterest-perfect smile disappeared. He frowned, puckered his lips and said

‘NO!’

I cajoled, pleaded, beseeched. But this is also the age of Stubborn Arseness. And Goobie has an extra dose of this, passed down by his mother. I should have just said ‘That’s not kind,’ and, for the sake of our lovely day out, let it go. Pick your battles. But my Stubborn Arseness likes nothing more than saying hello to someone else’s Stubborn Arseness. Why won’t he hold my water bottle? I held his hoodie! OMG, I’m failing as a parent. He’s turning into a spoilt brat.

He. Just. Needs. To. Hold. The. Bottle. And. EVERYTHING. Will. Be. Ok.

He didn’t and it wasn’t.

We both stormed off towards the castle.

We made our way up the zig-zag path, through the gateway and into the overgrown barbican. At first, I struggled to appreciate Kantara Castle. I didn’t find it as impressive as St Hilarion Castle and it didn’t have that fairytale zing. In fact, it didn’t take much more than an hour to walk around. The atmosphere was an odd mix of resilience and vulnerability. The north and south towers stood intact and we explored the rooms of the garrison and peered into the cistern. But other parts of the castle looked crumbly and we stepped over lots of fallen walls on our way to the watch tower at the top.

And then I saw what made this castle so special.

The stunning 360-degree view.

The view from the roof of the north tower was exquisite.  And walk into the look-out room that juts out of the south tower – with the narrow windows on all sides, it was like stepping into the sky. My spirits lifted.

Looking out across the Pan-Handle

We reached the watch tower which was the highest point of the castle at 690 metres. On one side we could see across the Mesaoria Plain all the way to Famagusta. It was dotted with fluffy-looking trees and seemed like something out of Lord of the Rings. In front we looked along the Pan-Handle (the Karpaz Peninsular) until it met the horizon. On the other side we could just make out the coastal road that takes you all the way to Kyrenia. Behind us was the mountain range, and we knew that Buffavento Castle was somewhere along there, waiting for us to pay it a visit.

Surprisingly, I didn’t get the Mummy Wobbles at Kantara Castle. It’s very high up but it didn’t feel as vertiginous as St Hilarion. The metal railings looked sturdier and most of the pathways were within the walls.  Goobie got to wander around without my vice-like grip on his hand or me squawking ‘Have you got him??!!’ at Matt every five seconds.

After soaking up the view, we began our descent from the summit. While we’d been exploring Kantara, Goobie had been producing flowers for me. I never saw him pick them, but out of the blue, one more would appear.

‘Daddy asked me to give this to you,’ he said.

Daddy didn’t, but I loved that Goobie was making amends for the loo incident while trying to save face.

Then, along a little pathway Goobie spotted some daisies. Three beautiful daisies in their prime, blowing happily in the wind. Seriously, I could almost see them smiling. There were two big ones and a little one in the middle.  A mummy, daddy and baby daisy, in one happy family. Really, my brain does this to me sometimes.

Goobie did what all children like to do, he bent down to pick one.

‘No, no,’ I said, kindly but slightly hysterically. I knew he was just trying to be nice. ‘Don’t pick them. They will die if you pick them. I’ll take a photo of them for you to keep instead. Then we can look at it together.’

I could see him weighing it up. But to do what Mummy asked would threaten his independence.

And so he Turned.

Before I could stop him, he swooped down and snapped the stalk of Daddy daisy. I yelped.

‘WHY DID YOU DO THAT??!!’

The happy daisy family had been destroyed. Goobie chucked the daisy over his shoulder and stomped off. Feeling utterly bereft, I laid the picked daisy next to its family.

And then I did what all rational beings do when they have witnessed a flower being picked. I cried.

The resilience and vulnerability of Kantara Castle had struck a chord. The happiness of my own daisy family felt under attack by our four year-old’s mood swings. I felt vulnerable; my resilience was crumbling. Parenting was no fairytale. But as we left Kantara Castle, I took one last look at its towers, still stubbornly standing. And I knew that our family needed the same resilience to weather the storms that would come our way. To be the safe haven for our little daisy to flourish.