The people of Birmingham are fonder than most of their home city, and it certainly shows. Over the last few weeks local folk have emailed in their droves to recommend funky food emporia, urban art galleries and disused factories-cum-disco retreats in England's second capital. Heck, even slapheaded 70s star Telly Savalas has something nice to say about it. It may not be a place which is often celebrated in song, but the local tourist board have put things right with a country and western tribute which includes the peerless line 'So much to do in Birmingham, any time, day or night/At the theatre or the ballet you can see grown men in tights'. I don't remember bumping into many lycra-clad folks during my stay, but there was certainly plenty to make a song and dance about in lovely Brum.

As if on cue, the ominous rain clouds which had been gathering throughout my journey burst into a rambunctious thunderstorm the moment my train pulled into New Street Station. They say you should fight fire with fire, so I decided to extend the principle still further by seeking shelter from the rain on Birmingham's newly redeveloped waterfront.
Rumour has it that the city has more miles of canal than Venice, and the peaceful stroll up from the Gas Street Basin to the spanking new Brindleyplace certainly seems a million miles from Birmingham's grim industrial past. Gastronomes aren't short of options in the spacious square, with the acclaimed Birmingham Bank restaurant and Brasserie Blanc providing sophisticated and succulent dining options. The nearby Ikon modern art gallery supplies the development's cultural sustenance. My creative juices were certainly flowing after an inspiring stroll through its airy galleries and I was soon drawn inexplicably to a funky book of origami paper and design sheets. Tate Modern hasn't called yet, but I'm waiting by the phone just in case...

Having rapidly had my fill of impossible paper-folding exercises, I followed the city's canal up towards the famed jewellery quarter, one of the four  places in the UK with its own hallmark. I was so mesmerised by the rows and rows of stores selling sparkly things that I almost walked straight past the front door of the Museum of the Jewellery Quarter. The museum's guided tour may be a little detailed for some people's tastes, but nonetheless offers a fascinating insight into the jeweller's trade and The Way Things Were in Victorian England. Our guide also livened things up with an impromptu demonstration of an antique soldering flame. If you manage to walk out uncharred, keep your eyes peeled for exhibits including a 27-year-old jar of Marmite and jewellery pieces crafted entirely from recycled Coke cans in the museum shop.

As any self-respecting curry connoisseur will tell you, Birmingham is home of the balti. There are plenty of serviceable places to find a spicy plate in the city centre, but real aficionados will want to head out to the Sparkbrook area in search of the fabled Balti Triangle. The award-winning Al Frash restaurant is always worth a shot (temporarily relocated to the nearby Zeb's restaurant for refurbishment if it's not where you expect it to be). If you prefer your décor a little less polished, try little known local gem Shabab's, a few doors down at 163-5 Ladypool Road. This family run restaurant knows where its priorities lie, with a stonking range of dodgy wallpapers as well as the obligatory signed photos of Gary Lineker and Frank Bruno above the till. The real effort has gone into the culinary side of the operation, which offers freshly prepared starters, jugs of soft drinks big enough to drown a dog in (Lassie lassi, anyone?), and compound dishes to suit everyone's taste (try ordering the tongue-twisting balti chicken tikka masala dopiaza vindaloo after a couple of pints...) As with any balti house worth its salt, customers are invited to bring their own drinks, so I was happy to arrive with a four-pack and savour my food late into the evening, when the joint really starts to buzz.

My slightly inebriated quest for a suitable pudding led me in the direction of the fabulous Custard Factory in Digbeth. Perhaps I should have read the email tip I received from local man Lee a little more carefully. As he points out, this Bird's factory has now been converted into an atmospheric nightspot where you're more likely to find a White Russian cocktail than a milky dessert. Still, the split-level Medicine Bar is certainly a classy drinking hole and it's worth swinging by during the day to take a gander through the rest of the complex. As Lee suggests, its range of 'funky art displays and retro shopping' provides ideal retail therapy to ease the pain of a drink too many the night before. If you fancy something a few hundred yards closer to town, the ever-popular Arcadian centre on Hurst Street is another great spot for a night on the tiles, with a lively gay scene, straight scene, and everything in between.

I bounced out of bed the following morning with the firm intention of exploring Birmingham's great outdoors. Unfortunately the weather seemed to be wired to my alarm clock, as the first sheets of rain began lashing my hotel window from the moment I slipped on my shoes. Never the mind – who needs al fresco entertainment when you can enjoy a nice round of golf, insulated from whatever the weather gods choose to throw at you? At Livinggolf there's no need for ill-fitting plus fours or those tiring hikes between holes. Instead you simply programme a simulator to display the course of your choice and thwack balls into a state-of-the-art canvas which measures the power and accuracy of your shot. As a golfing novice I decided to book in for an hour of tuition rather than attempt a full digital Pebble Beach course. Fortunately my instructor, Adam, had the patience of a saint, carefully diagnosing my many technical weaknesses and enthusiastically praising every shot which didn't end up sailing into the (virtual) forest behind the pin.

Rain or no rain, there was no way I was coming all the way to Birmingham without meeting up with the world famous Brummie of the Year™ 2005, Babu. Little did I know when I arrived to visit this city celebrity at the Nature Centre that he was in fact a red panda. Unfortunately Babu was about as impressed by the weather conditions as I was, refusing to do much more than poke his nose out of his hidey-hole. I settled instead for a more stimulating meeting with some garrulous otters and a Pygmy Goat before local lawyer Mark kindly recommended more temperate entertainment in the form of the Barber Institute of Fine Arts. I exchanged my sodden coat at the door for admission to the totally tropical 'The Parrot in Art' exhibition and the quality of work at this venerable gallery soon warmed the cockles of my heart.

After hearing with tears in my eyes that Cadburyworld was temporarily closed, I found myself in desperate need of an alternative source of comfort food. Fortunately I'd already made an advance booking at Jessica's, a restaurant with a growing reputation for haute cuisine and home to Birmingham's only Michelin star. Things started promisingly, with a couple of superb nibbles on offer in the form of a parmesan choux pastry and a plateful of paprika popcorn. My starter could have done with a bit more scallop for my dollar, but the dish was nonetheless beautifully seasoned and cooked to a turn. Next up was a piece of red mullet worth mortgaging the house for, no questions asked. As you'd expect for any self-respecting top-end restaurant, the 'banana cheesecake' I ordered to finish came in a cunning disguise, with the 'cheese' served in a dollop on one side of the plate and the biscuit base crumbled on top of it. It's certainly not one for visitors on a budget, but anyone looking to celebrate a special occasion in the Midlands should consider giving maître d' Pascal a call to secure a table.

As Michael Winner will no doubt confirm, eating, drinking and making merry can be extremely physically draining. All the more reason to take advantage of the health spa in the basement of the fabulous boutique Hotel du Vin on Church Street. After a heavenly sauna and steam, every ounce of stress was pummeled out of my body by an expert masseuse, who then proceeded to offer me lotions and potions for every ailment under the sun. By the time I had strolled back to the station in a daze of pure relaxation, I was ready to sleep all the way home.