We live in an increasingly filtered world where almost every natural experience is ringed around with warnings, interpretation boards, bold branded signage  all of which form a barrier between us and… it .

Much of this may deepen ‘visitor experience’ but does it actually insulate all of us from the very site or attraction we might be visiting.

Morston Quay is one of the the best-loved parts of the North Norfolk Coast, especially romantic in autumn mists where twitchers and mysterious worm diggers stride off into fog.

Or on frosty mornings when dog walkers wrap up warm to face the wind across the marsh. But most of all in summer, when the wide open space; mud, gravel, grass and sea shrubs throng with happy seal boaters, serious sailors and mudlarkers .

Parking is haphazard and even mildly hazardous and while there is a whelk stall and some ice creams visitors are generally left to themselves.

Why then would its managers, the National Trust, want to develop the whole site with visitor centres, loos, delineated parking spaces and, in some areas, ‘bonded surfaces’, in short to suburbanize the undefined liminal space between land and sea? 

Many generations have enjoyed, in fact loved passionately, the Quay and the Greens particularly because it is so undefined and soft edged, because it is so wild and because there is so little, visually or physically between us and the shrieking redshanks and the whistling widgeon and because we know we must know the tides to avoid a salt bath for our cars.

The current site is an important part of old Norfolk, perhaps exactly what our visitors come to see and is worth preserving.

It is also central to the life of locals along the coast for who’s wilderness it is.

The various  groups that use it seem to co-exist very nicely among the upturned boats and lobster and crab pots.

A perceived lack of facilities has never been a problem and Morston, Blakeney and their neighbours have plenty of local businesses who can provide anything unavailable out on the Quay.

But as important is the visual impact of this development. In this wide low marsh, purple with sea lavender in summer, golden grass in autumn and dun and silver in winter is vulnerable  to almost any change .

There are no tall forests, craggy rocks or mountains to absorb the impact of new buildings or to dilute the suburbanising effect of ‘bonded surfaces. 

The whole appeal of this wild place is its lack of boundaries and its apparent unplanned layout. Imposing a one size -fits-all National Trust solution can destroy all this at a stroke.

This is not a unique problem.

The desire for neatness  street furniture and lighting in the name of safety is all around us and if great care is not taken in delivering improvements can suddenly make Norfolk look like everywhere else.

We have an extraordinary county with its characteristic wide arable landscape studded with oaks and scots pine and a very recognisable range of vernacular building styles across the county that define each area; brick and flint and chalk in the north, Carr stone in the west, brick and clay lump further south and timber frames as we head towards Suffolk.

We and our planning system have worked hard to preserve this and that care for the environment  must extend to places like this 

The National Trust is a brilliant organisation with a vast estate. It must be able to focus on somewhere else that actually is in dire need of resources, there are plenty of properties to fit the bill.

No more welcome centres please - you are not welcome at Morston!

Matthew Rice is a Norfolk painter, designer and writer, who regularly contributes to Country Life magazine. His book, Building Norfolk, won the East Anglian book prize.