Well, not really to die. As possibly the coolest small town getaway, Greyton has been adopted by ad crowds as the official secret but not so secret hour-from-Cape-Town escape. I could see the girlfriend needed a break from Ad Land. Last week I started getting sms replies that read like contact reports. Revert, Specifications, Debrief. I refuse to be treated like a job bag, so we packed up on Saturday morning and headed out.

We escaped the city but never escaped the ad world. As we huddled down at Barnards to watch Germany hammer Argentina, sipping a fantastic local brew from Napier, the first signs appeared. Three well-wined film producers behind us started cackling through the match about Charlize and how they booked her for Sun International. We scouted the streets for a post-game nightcap and snuggled down to a fire at The Posthouse. Surprise, the only other couple at the bar were a designer and ad exec who had retired from the city life to start a Greyton Ad Agency. More was revealed as the conversation rattled on. The Bells commercial was shot at the bar were sitting in. The big Ad man Greyton weddings still remain part of local mythology. The only break we really had was when conversation turned to Football. Luckily Everybody speaks World Cup. It’s South Africa’s 12th official language.

We should have stayed longer. Greyton deserves much longer than one night. A take away coffee and possibly the worlds best oatmeal biscuit from Olive & Vigne and we were on our way home.

People who also love greyton: @alsparkles @gavlevie