This weekend we popped down to my homeland, Devon.
Ah Devon. A place so beautiful, everyone married their sister to stay there.
But be warned, nature will always right an imbalance. Beautiful landscapes may seem appealing but bear in mind 'the mother' will make you pay for it elsewhere. In this case, in-breeding has ravaged the area to such an extent that I can categorically state I didn’t see a single good-looking person all weekend (excluding my family of course).
We were visiting because my folks have moved from the sprawling metropolis of Ottery St Mary and retired to a quiet town by the sea imaginatively named Seaton.
It's actually not a bad name. At least it's short. If it were being named by a brand they'd want to call it something like Super Seaton 3.19® SmartPebble™ Ultra Edition. Something that means nothing to anyone except some product guy in Croydon who insists you use the full name. Then when you point out how ridicuous it sounds, they'll soften and say you must write it in full in every instance except when it's already been used twice in one paragraph, in which case you can abbreviate it to simply Super Seaton 3.19® SmartPebble™ Ultra.
That name then sits in the middle of your copy, like a turd in the middle of your living room floor. So no matter how flowing and well crafted the copy is, all you can see is this stinking name.
Sorry, I just had to get that rant in once I'd thought of it.
Anyway, Super Seaton is actually a very happy, friendly place. Here are some bits that caught the eye:
It was all going so well until…
“Hang on Clive, don’t elephants have ears?”
“Don’t worry, I think I’ve got an old satellite dish in the garden.”
For all your panic-designing needs (I have no idea).
The only thing the town lacks is a few pretentious London types. If you're interested in moving down and spreading a little glamour, get in touch. Maybe we could start an agency? I'm sure they'd be delighted to hear from us.
3 hours ago