Glasgow met me with a grin and a sideways sheet of rain; equal parts warm (metaphorically speaking) and bracing. Within an hour my shoes had devolved from “sensible arch support” to “fully waterlogged,” which is how I found myself shopping on Argyle Street and Buchanan Street for emergency boots and a new umbrella. Reader, they were gloriously waterproof. 

Thus armed, I set about discovering a city that does grand museums, serious food and a warm Scottish welcome as standard. Also, it wasn't actually freezing in October, which felt like a clerical error I was happy to accept.

Day one: Mackintosh mornings and a lunch to text home about

I started at Kelvingrove Art Gallery and Museum, one of those encyclopedic Victorian places that somehow seems to be an expert at everything all at once. The Charles Rennie Mackintosh rooms were my showstopper however. It's hard not to wander from delicate chairs to an impossibly lyrical stained glass window and not reach the conclusion that Glasgow is a city that was built by people who care about design. I drifted out into the park feeling cultured caffeinated and slightly superior, which is the correct way to approach lunch.

My next stop was at Ka Pao, which is Thai-ish in the best, Glasgow way. I ordered the roasted swede with aubergine and turmeric curry and was floored. The hispi cabbage with cashew nut butter and sriracha joined the table and I briefly considered moving to the Hillhead and dedicating my life to Asian-fusion cuisine. It is the sort of food that gets you checking the menu and writing things down before you've even finished your plate, I consider myself a Thai food expert and this was among the best I've ever had.

Palm houses, sunshine and pointless new boots

The rain performed its classic Glasgow trick of vanishing the very moment I'd changed shoes, so I walked up to the Botanic Gardens where autumn had gone full fireworks. The white palm house was nearly completely empty on a late October Monday, and the sunlight streamed through like something out of a film; all curved and glass, featherlight ferns and Victorian panache. Inside, it smelt faintly of damp leaves.  

On the way back I wandered up to the University of Glasgow and into the quadrangle, which is perhaps best described as a castle commissioned for someone to study in. The cloisters throw these perfect ribbed shadows that make even a bad phone photo look like a film still, and the tower does an excellent Hogwarts impression (replete with authentic Scotch fog). Students drifted through in vintage trainers and shirts that I definitely owned in 2006, and I felt approximately 400 years old in my sensible new boots. I took this as a sign to stop pretending I was an undergraduate, admired the stonework like a responsible adult, then went in search of another coffee.

Cocktails and dinner with my own name on the door

A friend told me to try Henry’s on the Southside. I did not choose it because of the name, although the rum basil smash might well have chosen me. Friendly bar staff, an excellent playlist, moody lighting and Asahi (my favourite beer) on draft for balance. Glasgow is excellent at this sort of bar: no attitude, just people who enjoy making you an excellent drink.

Then it was back to the centre of town for dinner after a short 10 minute train hop. I was greeted with small plates at Sebb’s. Tandoori celeriac might sound like a dish earnest enough to be giving its own TED Talk but it tasted absolutely fantastic. The fennel and onion salad with coconut raita was fresh, crunchy and violently moreish. Share plates are dangerous here, particularly if you're dining alone, there's very little sharing involved...

Day two: modern art, ships and a very helpful orange subway

The Gallery of Modern Art is smaller than you might expect and better for it. It rewards a slow loop and has a lovely Glaswegian mix of earnest art and pieces that don't take themselves too seriously. Afterwards I walked to the Subway and took my turn on the city’s famous clockwork orange loop (the third oldest underground in the world). As a Londoner I can report it feels like riding a toy version of the Victoria line. Handy, slightly claustrophobic, impressively punctual. You pop up whereever you're meant to be in under half an hour every single time.

I spent the afternoon at the Riverside Museum, which is a free love letter to the city’s transport and engineering. Trams, buses, locomotives, actual ships, a recreated street and scale models that instantly brought out my inner child. It is the kind of place that makes you quietly impressed by all the things human beings can achieve. Also very good for drying out between showers.

Back in town I rejoined the rest of Glasgow doing sensible urban things on Buchanan Street. There are moments when the city feels like it is offering you a warm handshake. People were unfailingly friendly, from museum guides to the stranger who pointed out I was about to walk into a puddle the size of a modest loch. If Glasgow has a brand, it is practical charm and sturdy umbrellas.

Getting around and getting it right

I walked most of the time, which felt safe and straightforward, and used the Subway when the map and my enthusiasm diverged. Taxis were easy when the rain got extreme, everywhere was contactless, service was consistently brisk without being brusque, and bookings for dinner were unecessary on a week night. If you are a planner, this is a city that rewards you. If you are not, (like me) it's pretty forgiving, too.

Tips I wish someone had given me beforehand

• Bring waterproof shoes and a compact brolly. You will feel smug and avoid athlete's foot.
• Book Ka Pao and Sebb’s if you're in a group or aiming for prime time. Walk-ins are possible but the good stuff always gets busy.
• Kelvingrove and the Riverside Museum are free. Put the saved cash into dessert or a second cocktail.
• The Subway is a simple circle. Buy a day ticket if you plan to hop between West End, city centre and south of the river.
• The Botanic Gardens are beautiful in autumn light. The white palm house photographs like a dream even if the weather fails to play ball.

Two days was enough to get a taste for the place and a mild addiction to hispi cabbage. Glasgow does the big cultural hits and the small pleasures equally well. It is all very human in scale, and even the weather, (which seems determined to give you every season in one morning) has its charm. Go for the museums, stay for the food, and pack the waterproofs.