The Old House at Home had me feeling exactly that the moment I walked in - OLD.

Like some twisted time warp, I was transported back decades to those bedraggled, unloved town centre pubs full of blokes sat around while the world passes them by.

The feeling was only reinforced when a 1970s song blared through the speakers and several old soaks started singing along to 10cc’s classic I’m Not in Love – a feeling I’d already reached about this monolith of a Maidstone boozer.

I’d compare it to accidentally plonking yourself down on some old chewing gum left on a bus seat, you’re immediately aware you’ve made a mistake and realise you need to find the best way to get yourself out of the mess.

But, the barmaid in a cropped top with a nasty cough, had already poured me a pint of Speckled Hen so I felt duty-bound to take a seat and get better acquainted with my surroundings, just in case I’d formed an opinion about this place too hastily.

The pub is one, large cavernous space in which I counted 16 blokes and two members of the fairer sex, the aforementioned hacking barmaid and a woman at the back having a bite to eat with a local.

Four fellows at the front of the bar were making their own entertainment, poring over the sport pages of The Sun and occasionally raising an eye to the screen which was showing live horse racing.

The other four or five screens, either showing Jude Bellingham silently mouthing an interview or incredibly boring golf coverage, were all being ignored completely.

However, the music was still attracting a couple of guys eager to join in and their next rendition was an astonishing version of Rose Royce’s Car Wash.

It’s a pub dominated by its locals and I think you’d need to be a regular to keep returning. There was one exception when one bloke came in who only had eyes for the fruit machine. Ignoring the bar completely, he made a beeline for the flashing electronic monster and never even pretended he wanted to buy a drink.

Meanwhile, the local and his lady friend had finished eating and he was making his own entertainment by teaching her the bar mat flipping game. She seemed to get the hang of it quite quickly but, obviously a flipping virgin, struggled to get beyond a fifth (if anyone knows this game, I’d be interested to know your best score as, with lots of practice, I once managed 22).

As well as the two fruit machines, there were also two dartboards available.

The blackboard on the normal side had been signed fairly neatly by Jesse, who informed anyone interested that he/she had been here. In an effort to match Jesse and also inform us he was here at some point, Adam had also signed, although he only managed to complete the first half of his surname before becoming totally illegible.

The door to the gents is back and centre of the pub, a door to the right, I was reliably informed, leads to ‘some sort of garden’ but apparently it wasn’t worth taking a look and is kept locked in any case. This means a drinker wanting a fag - and there’s many - always heads for one of the three picnic tables out front on the pavement.

For anyone wishing to powder their nose, the door to the ladies’ loo is off to the left. I can report that the gents, with it drugs warning notices, is neatly tiled but wasn’t particularly fresh or clean and could do with some attention.

On my way out, I noticed a staircase leading to the first floor of the pub and so popped up to take a quick look. Unlike the somewhat bland and uninviting bar area downstairs, this room appeared much more inviting.

There was a pool table, several comfortable looking chairs, another dartboard and a TV screen, as well as some interesting old photographs, one featuring Churchill visiting the Kent County Show.

I don’t know how often this small private room is used but if I was ever to return to the Old House, I’d definitely want to swerve the downstairs bar and head straight here.

That said, this is sadly one public house I wouldn’t choose to revisit and if I’m honest, I felt considerably more deflated on the way out than I’d felt on the way in.

I wouldn’t describe it as openly hostile but it certainly isn’t overly inviting and whilst I’m sure it fulfils a need in the area, it’s not something I need to experience again.

THE OLD HOUSE AT HOME, 10 PUDDING LANE, MAIDSTONE ME14 1LN

Décor: I got the impression this place has probably undergone something of a facelift by Craft Union and, although everywhere is very sticky, the furnishings aren’t too bad. The room upstairs is far more interesting than the bland bar below. **

Drink: There was only one bitter available but there was a decently-priced Guinness on offer and plenty of lager options. ***

Price: Weekday drinks seem to be cheaper than their weekend versions and a pint of Speckled Hen was only £2.60. A Tuesday pint of Stella was a fair bit dearer at £4.25. ****

Staff: Staffing may increase later but during the afternoon it was strictly a one-woman show behind the bar and if she disappeared through the door with the rainbow flag on it, then you just had to wait until she returned before you could get a drink. **

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