Monarchs come and go; Governments rise and fall; there are times of war and times of peace, times of plenty and times of want: but the village pub is always there. A friendly light on a dark winter night, gathering place for games and village gossip, the neighborhood living room: the village pub has been the heart of community in rural Britain for centuries. From St. Ives to Thurso, the pub is the hub. Or at least it used to be.

In recent years, the pub has fallen on hard times. It is no longer news to report that village pubs are closing across the island at the rate of one a week. Many communities whose civic life was centered on the pub for centuries are now publess. This is serious, economically as well as socially. Among other things, it is reckoned that a pub is worth eight percent on village property values alone.

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The reasons for the decline of the village pub are several. Government taxing policies have made drinking in the pub much more expensive than buying wine, beer or spirits in the nearest supermarket. It's simply far more economical to drink at home, even with friends. And the blanket ban on smoking in the pubs has put a great damper on pub time for millions. Somehow, it's more than the prohibition on smoking itself; it's the idea of it. Tobacco has been part of the fabric of the pub for centuries—back to the days when a well-run pub stocked a supply of clay pipes for the mutual shared enjoyment of their regulars and travelers alike.

The nature of society has changed, too. Not only is it cheaper to enjoy your cider or g&t at home, but also that is where the television is. The pint's accompanying conversation and pub games that used to wile away long winter evenings aren't necessary to our entertainment any more. And if we decide to go out for a drink, it's just as easy to hop in the car and drive the half a dozen miles into the market town, where there's more choice of ambience, beer and companionship.

It's not that we don't value the village pub any more. It's simply that as an institution, it has always been taken for granted—like the parish church and the manor. And much like those timeless features of the village, it has lost its vitality over the years.

But not every village is about to let its pub fail without a fight. Across the country there are many working diligently to save their village pubs. After all, this has not been a silent passing. The media have been all over this story for years. The Prince of Wales has been an active campaigner for the viability of rural pubs since 2001. Prince Charles' The Pub is the Hub initiative is actively helping hundreds of pubs across England and Wales build partnerships with their communities that allow them to be economically sustainable.

And up in the mountains of northeast Wales, one village has taken matters in its own hands. At Llanarmon-yn-Ial, The Raven Inn closed down last summer. So, the residents of the village got together and formed a cooperative to run the pub themselves. I went up there this autumn to see how they were getting on. 

It took some getting to. Llanarmon-yn-Ial lies tucked a few undulating miles off the A494 between Ruthin and Mold in sparsely populated Denbighshire. There are about 600 souls in the village. It's not on the way to any place. I wound my way there on a dark, rainy Thursday night in October. It was no trouble finding The Raven Inn. The pub was the only place with any exterior lights on in the village—right across from the village church. A banner greeted me on the garden wall announcing: "Welcome to our Community Run Pub."

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