Despite it running through (and today I do mean only through) the county for the best part of 30 years, I have yet to set foot on a Eurostar train.

And given they can no longer be bothered to stop at the enormous glass-fronted international stations built for their purpose at Ebbsfleet and Ashford, I rather suspect I never will.

Because should I decide I need to head to Paris, the ludicrous nature of having to catch an expensive train out of Kent to then catch an even more expensive one from London to retrace much of my steps seems to defy all sense.

Which is a shame, as once Eurostar was popular in the county. It brought jobs, it brought us closer to our continental cousins and it brought potential.

Potential, that if so desired, you could stroll to one of the Kent stations and board a train which would drop you off in northern Europe. You could, if you were suitably flush, actually live in one of those converted chateaux which always appear to be sold for about tuppence in France, and commute back to your job in the county.

No-one would argue with the concept. Although, in truth, I have often argued with the price - hence my lack of patronage thus far.

I remember the excitement of its arrival nearly 30 years ago. For all the pain people in Kent had felt during its construction, the fact trains were starting to run (albeit, not at first on high-speed rails and into Waterloo, back then, rather than St Pancras) seemed to suggest it could all be worthwhile.

That all the gifts we had showered it with - the plaudits, the marketing campaigns, those station buildings - our love, at least, was reciprocated.

Yet, today, Eurostar is a brand held in contempt by many of the county’s residents. It let us down. Badly.

It promised us plenty then, having embraced it, relied upon it, decided, as we emerged from the pain of the peak pandemic, it was going to run away with London and leave us with two hulking white elephants.

Yes, I know the stations are now hubs for the high-speed domestic trains, but you know what I mean.

And just to tease us with what we no longer have, it continues to rush past us every day - leaving us just to gawp at its sleek lines as it disappears into the distance.

But there is hope. Because Eurotunnel bosses are dangling a £50 million carrot on a stick in a bid to lure in rival operators.

There’s spare tunnel capacity and despite our recent political stance of repeatedly sticking two-fingers up to our French neighbours, there’s still a desire to travel, by train, from our little island to mainland Europe rather than all the hassle that goes into flying there.

And it would be fair to say that if any international newcomer to our rails wants to add a handful of minutes to the journey and stop in Kent as it zooms between the continent and London - and they jolly well should be made to do so or we’ll develop a complex - it will become a firm favourite among the good folk of Kent.

Because even if, by some miracle, Eurostar deigns to stop in the county again, the chances are we’ll never be able to trust it again. That relationship, sadly, is surely over.