AFTER what has often felt like blanket sunshine for months on end, the rainy season looks like it’s finally setting in. Let’s admit it: this is sorely needed, by our gardens, by our parched reservoirs, by us all really, although we might not be so grateful when we’ve been cooped up indoors for days/weeks on end.

One thing I am definitely grateful for, however, is that I am lucky enough to live in what has officially been crowned the best place to visit on a rainy day: step forward, Truro.

Earlier this year, I fought in this column for Truro’s right to celebrate its city status; indeed, next year, it is planning a proper shindig to mark the 150th anniversary of the conference of city status upon Truro following the erection and consecration of the cathedral.

For all that some are scathing on social media about what Truro has to offer (or about everything on earth, let’s face it), I find it to be one of the best served places I have ever lived, with pretty much all the things I could possibly want access to.

The Hall for Cornwall has been getting some really decent shows since its Covid-era refurb (we’re especially looking forward to Twelve Angry Men in January); a museum/gallery of some history and renown (look out for the world-class Red Dress exhibition launching in the New Year); a cinema, and a good range of shops.

Small wonder, then, that it has just been named the UK’s cosiest rainy-day destination by holidaylodges.co.uk, beating 30 other UK destinations to the top spot. I say: amen to that.

Despite experiencing an average of 35.4 heavy-rain days each year, Truro's combination of “cosy accommodation and nearby rainy-day activities” scored 80.8 out of 100, with 78 per cent of accommodation analysed featuring a hot tub and 61 per cent boasting a fire, and all within 5km of a cosy pub with a real fire. It also offers all seven categories of indoor attractions assessed by the index, from museums and galleries to cinemas, family activities and wellness facilities.

Some wetter locations scored higher than their dryer counterparts, simply because they were better prepared for all weather eventualities. Travel expert Ellen Sanders recommends a “rain reframe”, explaining: “My advice is to stop thinking of rain as something to plan around and start seeing it as part of the experience. A grey afternoon can be the perfect excuse to settle in, unwind and enjoy those little moments that make a winter getaway feel special.

“A rainy day away from home gives you permission to slow down, get cosy and enjoy a break at a different pace, without feeling like you need to be out exploring from morning until night.”

Truro’s rainy-day provision will come as no surprise to anyone who has had to navigate the crowds when the weather turns during the summer. At that point, any visitor within a 30-mile radius shuns the beach and heads for the shops: M&S, Primark, the farmers’ market.

I’m under no illusion about Truro’s limitations, of course. Its cinema is small by comparison with some; I enjoy foreign cinema, and only recently made a 100-mile round trip to see a French blockbuster in screen 15 of a larger chain in Plymouth (it even had reclining seats). But that is rare, and of no detriment to the independent and committed team at the Plaza, which we visit regularly to see more mainstream and Cornish cinema releases.

I recently visited London to see the magnificent Abba Voyage and from there caught the Eurostar to Brussels for a half-term city break with the family. Both places were chock-full with things to do, friends to see; even with long days, it was impossible to cram it all in. Just thinking about it makes me want to go back and catch up on the bits I missed.

But I’ll tell you something: no sooner had I arrived in London than my stress levels were off the scale. Daughter’s tube ticket stopped working, demagnetised by her phone. Big thanks to the staff and complete strangers who reassured her this happens all the time, to everyone – or at least, to those who don’t just tap their phones, which is apparently the 21st-century way.

Then our London-based pal started yelling at me via text message: “WHY ARE YOU ON THE TUBE AT ALL? GET OFF!” She had our route mapped out like a black cab driver, but thought we had arrived via Euston so had got it all wrong.

It made me ache for the ability to just walk out of my front door and be at the theatre or cinema within minutes, watch a show and walk home again, chatting all the way with the family about our shared cultural experience.

Perhaps the only thing missing in all of that is the hot tub and the roaring fire – but I’m sure those could be arranged …