A wet October afternoon, done well

Some October afternoons the rain sets in and there is no arguing with it. The river goes the colour of stewed tea, the lane empties, and the sensible thing is to stop pretending you are going to walk anywhere. A wet afternoon in Bibury is not a write-off, though. It just wants a different plan, and after enough autumns here I have a few I fall back on.

My first move is usually to give in to it properly. A pub with a fire and a long lunch is the right answer more often than anyone admits. The Catherine Wheel in Arlington is the village local, a short walk away, and on a wet day it is exactly the sort of place you want to sit in for a couple of hours while the weather does its thing outside. For something more of an occasion, the Swan by the bridge does a proper meal, and there are few better things to look at through a rained-on window than the Coln in full flow. Book the Swan ahead at weekends in the season, as the wet-weather idea is not yours alone.

If you would rather be out and doing

Take the car. A wet afternoon is the cue for the indoor things you would skip on a fine day, and there is plenty within easy reach. Cirencester is about twenty minutes away and has enough to fill a few hours under cover. The Corinium Museum is the obvious one, and a good one, for the Roman history of the town, with the mosaics and finds laid out properly. Beyond that there are independent shops along the streets off the market place, a handsome parish church to step into out of the rain, and no shortage of places for tea when you have had enough of being on your feet.

If you want to go a little further, the larger Cotswold towns are a manageable drive and made for a wet afternoon’s browsing. Just know that you will not be the only one with the idea, so the appeal of an empty Bibury rather rises by comparison. On a really wet day I often think the village itself, quiet and washed clean, is the better place to be than a busy town.

The best wet afternoon of all

Honestly, the best wet October afternoon I know is the one spent indoors on purpose. The cottages are made for it. Get the fire going, put the weather on the other side of the glass, and let the afternoon go slow. A pot of tea, something to read, the rain on the window, and no obligation to be anywhere.

Cook something that takes a while. This is the afternoon for the slow recipe you never get round to at home, the one that wants three hours and fills the place with the smell of it. The point of a cottage like this in October is not to fight the weather but to have somewhere worth being stuck inside, and a kitchen and a fire and a whole afternoon ahead of you is no hardship at all. Put a film on after, with the rain still going, and you have spent the day exactly as the season intended.

There is a particular comfort to a holiday afternoon where the weather has made the decision for you. No guilt about not making the most of it, no pressure to be out seeing things. The rain has settled the question, and all that is left is to be warm and unhurried and glad of the roof.

It helps to come prepared for it, mind. October will give you a wet afternoon or two whatever the forecast promised, so I would always pack as though one is coming. A couple of books you actually mean to read, a board game if that is your sort of evening, the makings of something slow to cook. The guests who have the best rainy afternoons are the ones who half hoped for one. The ones who fight it, who keep checking the sky and feeling cheated, tend to have a worse day than the weather deserves.

And the rain usually clears by evening anyway. When it does, the village is washed clean and entirely empty, the air smells of wet stone and leaves, and a short turn down to the river before dinner is the reward for having waited it out. The Coln runs high and loud after a wet day, the light comes back low and silver, and the whole place feels like it belongs to you. That walk, after an afternoon indoors, is often the best ten minutes of the trip.