That time of year again: our annual pilgrimage to The Lake District for a seven-day gathering with friends. Nestled in a holiday home among England’s most majestic mountains, we catch up over walks and home-cooked meals to the drumbeat of evermore pitter-patter.

This year we’ve gone to the most northern part of the district. From a bygone royal charter, Ireby is officially a market town but its population barely makes triple digits. Our AirBnB’s windows daydream onto the Caldbeck Fells, an area known locally as ‘Back O’ Skiddaw’.

One of the reasons I’ve relished this year’s location is the prospect of a pub in no man’s land, an alternative to the nice but tourist-focused establishments of Keswick and Grasmere. At the town’s centre’s cross-roads, Emily’s Black Lion purrs at the corner. I request a lads’ night out in support of the local economy. Monday night is given a royal charter.

The only problem with Monday night is the pub is closed, discovered an hour before kick-off by inspecting the opening hours sheet on the pub’s window. Other days’ times aren’t much more promising: closed at 10 other nights, with 8pm closing on Sunday. My kids could join us and still be in bed on time on the Sabbath.

The two or three people propping up the bar when I walk by on Tuesday night is the same vista we encounter upon entering at 8.30pm on Wednesday night. There’s nobody else bar the two staff. We grab a table in the corner and our chat competes with 80s and 90s music videos playing on a TV screen above the wood stove. By 9.30pm, the two counter colonisers have called it a night. By 9.55pm, the barman is approaching with a solemn look. A third pint of Rivet Catcher doesn’t appeal.

Much has been written of late about the demise of rural pubs. When you see emptiness like this, you wonder if anything can sustain a small village establishment with in times of cheap off-licence drink, zero-tolerance for drink-driving and less emphasis on community gathering.

A sideways glance at the pub’s noticeboard gives me hope for Ireby’s sociable denizens. Tuesday nights are pie night at the pub. Every second Wednesday night is quiz night. The owner seems to have put much store into providing good pub food six nights a week. Its Meta account reveals that the pub makes a real effort into providing a sense of occasion for big events like the Eurovision, the World Cup and the coronation. And so it is: the pub’s hours reflect the demand that’s there, and all the owner can do is offer food and drink and a place for people to gather and mark the big moments and the small ones.

A local newspaper interview with the pub’s owner casts light on the name. Emily is the younger of his two daughters. His tea rooms in nearby Uldale are named after the older. Naming his businesses after them is a constant reminder of his motivation. If pubs like this succeed then places like Ireby will have a greater appeal when Emily and her generation decide whether to stay or go.