You’d be amazed by how fond crabs are of bacon. A couple of diminutive sisters are sitting on the quayside at Blakeney jabbing chunks of their leftover breakfast onto the end of a length of string, and dipping it into the water where they can find a gap between the cramped fishing boats and pleasure craft. It takes less than a minute for the crabs to bite and be hauled out of the water, stubbornly refusing to let go of their scrap of streaky. The kids put them in a bucket for a while, just to watch the pugnacious crustaceans fight each other, then they are thrown back into the water. If shellfish have arteries, then those of Blakeney crabs are severely clogged.

That kind of innocent seaside fun is an endangered species these days. Children’s holidays tend to be mediated, thoroughly choreographed affairs at artificial resorts or holiday parks, where they will cast a jaded eye over the outdoor amenities before heading back to the chalet and the PlayStation. An idle fortnight messing about by the seaside doesn’t seem to be allowed any more.

Some places have escaped ruthless commerce-led modernisation though, and Blakeney is a case in point. In fact this entire stretch of the Norfolk coastline, roughly extending from shabbily quaint Hunstanton in the west round to Cromer to the east is like a time capsule of old England. For Scots who are dismayed by the brutal vulgarity of so many English resorts, the conservative gentility and well-preserved watercolour beauty of the Norfolk coastline will come as a breath of bracing North Sea air. The birdlife, the marshlands and estuarine swamps give it a character you won’t find elsewhere in England. And its proximity to the capital has given the region a market-led profusion of restaurants and delicatessens to satisfy the haughtiest of gastronomy fiends.

Blakeney hotel is an independent establishment that would induce fits of exasperation in any corporate hotelier. It seems in a perpetual state of dithering whether to be smart and chic or comfortable and homely. Some of the rooms are poky and stuffy, others airy and spacious, with views over the waterfront. It’s a place where you can potter around on a wet Sunday afternoon reading the papers, but it’s also somewhere you’ll find one of the best restaurants in Norfolk, serving simply prepared but impeccable meals utilising the best of the local seafood.

The village is blessed with a beautiful, meandering main street, with the traditional pebble-dashed cottages, and an atmospheric local pub, the King’s Arms, with its low beams and cosy nooks. A local preservation society has been instrumental in preserving and renovating the old cottages, without succumbing to that “preserved in aspic” feel that makes many heritage villages seem like museums rather than real communities. Outside the hotel, makeshift stalls sell seasonal shellfish, usually crab in an unfussy sandwich, but fresh oysters as well, served up with a slice of lemon and optional Tabasco.

The classic day out from Blakeney is the trip to Blakeney Point, the tip of a long shingle spit, home to colonies of seals and the breeding ground for terns. There are two ways to get there. From Blakeney or nearby Morston, boat trips leave on a variety of tours depending on the tides, allowing both close-up viewing of the seals and landings at Blakeney Point. More rewarding is the four-mile walk along the spit, starting from the beach near the village of Cley-next-the-Sea. The somewhat arduous but exhilarating hike along the shingle brings you to the spectacular sight of a sandbank crowded with common and grey seals.

Back on terra firma, those with cars can head off down the back roads into one of the best-preserved regions of England. Burnham Market, a few miles inland, is a picture-postcard village in the sense that it looks as if it has been touched up by an artistic hand in search of olde worlde charm. Its pristine Georgian buildings cluster around a central green in a neat array, and in summer you feel it has been created for the sole purpose of weekenders or day-trippers. It is the urban vision of bucolic bliss, with traditional butchers and delicatessens selling convincing versions of timeless rustic fare, all game pies, home-churned butter and toothsome pâté.

There are beaches in the vicinity too, infused with that purity that seems to characterise a north-coast shoreline, wherever you are in the world. Holkham has that exposed freshness that means it will never be the regular haunt of sun worshippers, although that pretty much applies to most of the Norfolk coast. These are sands seen at their best around dusk in late summer, with still a little residual heat lingering around, and a red haze reflecting off the waves. Further around towards the west, Hunstanton is the classic example of a decaying seaside resort, trying hard, but always seeming sepia-tinged. You only need a few Victorian bathing machines and a marching tune from the bandstand and the period ambience would be irresistible.

Back at the Blakeney hotel, there may be a few rain clouds scudding in from the North Sea, but in the restaurant, they are dishing up fish cooked with a delicacy that would have the likes of Gary Rhodes and Rick Stein purring their approval. In the television lounge, gents of a certain age and a determined G and T habit are snoozing into their newspapers, while down 17 convoluted corridors, somebody has discovered the billiard room and is lining up a red into the corner pocket. Here it is forever an age of innocence untainted by Starbucks, broadband and Thai-style chicken nuggets. This was what England must have been like before the fall.

Details: BMI (www.flybmi.com) has return flights from Aberdeen to Norwich for £162, Eastern Airways (www.easternairways.com) flies from Edinburgh to Norwich from £196 return and easyJet (www.easyjet.com) flights start at £40 from four Scottish airports to Stansted airport, from where trains connect to Norfolk. The Blakeney hotel (www.blakeney-hotel.co.uk, 01263 740797) has an offer of £94 per person for a two-night weekend stay including breakfast and three-course dinner.

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