Seton barely announces itself — a scatter of old stone and farmland on the East Lothian coast, the kind of place you pass through on the way to somewhere with a postcode people recognise, rather than somewhere you stop for a reason. There's no high street to read, no parade of shops to tell you who lives here; the place itself is the statement, and it's a quiet one. That quietness is the whole story, in a sense, because there's almost nothing else to go on. No crime figures, no school data, no house price record, no transport count has been logged for Seton specifically — which for a hamlet this size isn't unusual, but it means anything said about commuting, schooling, or property here would be invention rather than insight. What exists instead is the wider Scottish picture it sits inside: a median age around 43 and an employment rate close to 58% nationally, figures that describe Scotland broadly rather than this particular cluster of houses. Given how thin the local record is, the honest answer is that Seton can't be assessed the way a town or suburb can. There's no named school to point to, no station to walk from, no green space or restaurant on record to sketch a weekend around. What you're weighing up, if you're considering it, isn't a set of numbers — it's the fact of a small, rural settlement on the Lothian coast, and whether that kind of quiet, largely undocumented place suits you is a question no dataset here can answer.