When I was about ten-years-old, I had a secret hideout on the chalk escarpment above my primary school in Folkestone. My gang and I would sneak out the back gate of the school, across the fields and up the steep slope to the World War Two pillbox that was the base of our operations.
I did not really appreciate it at the time, we were too busy playing war games, but from up here you can get a distinct sense of just how connected this corner of Britain is with mainland Europe. On a sunny day, you can see the white cliffs of Cap Blanc-Nez gleaming in the distance, cliffs that are composed of exactly the same Upper Cretaceous rocks that you are standing on. If you follow the contours of the chalk ridge from my hideout to the east, and out across the water, it does not take much imagination to see how intimately the two sides of what is now the English Channel were once linked.