Chudleigh

Chudleigh spent centuries as a wool town and now spends its days as the place you drive past at seventy on the way to somewhere with a beach, which suits it fine because the bypass took the traffic and left the town. What remains is a proper high street, a set of caves in the rocks that people have been hiding in since the Iron Age, and a bishop's palace reduced to a farmhouse footnote, which is roughly the trajectory of every grand plan ever hatched in Devon. The moor is close enough to look at and far enough that nobody expects you to walk it in February. If you want a town that has stopped auditioning for anything, this is the one.