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It should mean nobody in the building ever needs to know the site is made of code — not that the code has been hidden behind a harder interface.
“No code” has come to mean a drag-and-drop canvas with a hundred controls, a settings panel for every element, and a learning curve that would embarrass a spreadsheet. That is code with the brackets removed. It is not what a small business asked for.
The ask was simpler: I want to change what my website says without asking anybody. Not “I want to design a website.” The design was done once, by someone who does that; the words change every week, by someone who does not.
A website has two jobs that get confused. One is building it — layout, colour, type, the shape of the thing. The other is keeping it true — prices, hours, the new service, the photograph of the actual van. The first job happens once and rewards a powerful tool. The second happens forever and punishes one.
A builder that treats the second job like the first makes the owner a designer every time they want to fix a typo. A tool built for the second job makes the typo a click.
It should mean: if you can read the page, you can change it. Everything else exists for one reason — the guide that builds the first version, the AI that drafts a page from a sentence, the checks that catch a missing description. The person who knows the business never has to become the person who knows the tool.
No account until it is built.
We would like to record how this site is used, so we can fix what does not work. Nothing is recorded unless you say yes. How we use it