You can tell a lot about a man by the glass he chooses, that was the claim made by the barman in Ye Olde Thirsty Pig. I must have driven past this oasis on an inner ring road a multitude of times and never knew it contained a friendly clairvoyant who knew I was a jug lover at heart. I don’t often find myself on foot in the middle of Maidstone and only really made it into YOTP because the van delivering a firkin of Mad Cat made it easier to fall through the door than walk around and risk the traffic on Knightrider Street. But boy was this a lucky break, how’ve I managed to avoid this ‘not as sm…