Trust, I get it now...

I was down that old farm road again this weekend, this time with the kids for some winter horseriding (them) and driftwood collecting (me) on the beach.

The 'Locols Only' (sic) graffiti has been painted out and something even more offensive is now scrawled on the side of the water tank.

But it continues to have lessons for me, that childhood road.

On the left shoulder, half way down there's a farm house, set back from the road.

Out front is a weathered kitchen table - its been there for years. In summer it has punnets of berryfruit but now its got bags of winter lemons for sale at 50 cents.

Then there's a wooden box with a slit for the money, and that's it - not even a note asking for payment.