I remember Ken telling me about the white cliffs of Dover being made of chalk and me not believing him. On his next stay at ours, he brought me a piece of what was indeed, chalk from the white cliffs. Sometime later my Dad, Mum, brother and myself travelled to Felixstowe and stayed at Kens place, along with his Felixstowe missus. It was then that I was able to see the white cliffs for myself.
Didn’t Ken have a bit of a complicated domestic situation going on?