10. Nine - see nnn-nn-n

It is September 1st 06. In Adelaide the expected maximum temperature forecast is 26 degrees Centigrade, the same as yesterday. The weather is big news in Australia at present. The official rainfall for Adelaide was merely 59 mm of rain all winter (58.6 to be exact). It was the driest winter since records began some 160 odd years ago.

Like our dry season weather-wise, I had a few dry weeks in writing. I proved that I was not a compulsive writer, who needed to write his problems away by the chapter. During a whole week, at the beginning of August 06, I did not touch the P/C; never turned the power on. I promised my wife also to not write my diary a whole week. 

My wife was hoping it would make me see things differently at the end. "How could this make a difference?" I argued. "It only means I have to remember all the magic I see for a whole seven days." I sometimes struggled to remember the last 24 hours."

Still, I kept my promise. We were both right. The break did not hurt me, neither did I just wake up, as out of a coma, and say it was all a nice dream, or nightmare, whichever way you view my world of clever codes, classic clues and cruel co-incidences.

Two days after uploading chapter 8  (the story of the letters AWB changing to 3 AW) I tuned into this radio station in Melbourne early one morning. It was 4.51 am on my digital clock. Above the crackling I caught a brief comment by a male caller to the talk back program. His name was Phil. The subject must have been hygiene. I heard him say: "40 years ago we didn't even wash our hands before lunch ..." 

My creative brain came up with an immediate thought. It was one of those, which may sound funny, but there was hidden truth - the true state of affairs between my wife and I. Our PM would class it as a case of - You're damned if you do, and you're damned if you don't. 

 

Email to Radio 3 AW, Melbourne, dated 21/7/06:

Hi Ross,
About 30 min. ago (it was 5.20 am or so in Melb) I woke here in Adelaide and tuned into my transistor for about 30 seconds. It was bit crackling, but I got 3 AW (I think so anyway) OK. A caller Phil talked about , how 40 years ago, they did not even wash their hands before having lunch. This reminded me of a joke I had made up a few days ago, while blogging, writing my auto-biography, Part 5, Ch. 8:
 - - - - - - -
Fred goes to a shrink and says, my wife thinks I have a compulsive, obsessive disorder. She reckons washing your hands 30 times a day is too much.
 
The shrink knew how to handle it, gives Fred two years of treatment and Fred is finally cured.
 
After a month Fred comes back to the shrink and says - my wife still thinks I have a compulsive-obsessive disorder.
Why, asks the shrink? Do you still wash your hands 30 times a day?
No, says Fred, I only wash them about 5 times now.
The shrink asks - so why does your wife still think you have compulsive-obsessive disorder?
 
Fred answers: She says, I just become lazy.
- - - - - - -
Kind regards from Adelaide
Dieter Fischer
 

(I added that because of its simplicity the joke may have been told before. I may have read it in a Reader's Digest years ago and it sprung out of my subconscious mind).  

- - - - - - -

 

Readers Digest Magazines are ideal when travelling on a bus. They are also timeless. Read what I experienced just randomly grabbing a couple of these magazines to take on a bus trip.

In preparation for the trip to Melbourne on the bus with Adelaide United Football supporters, I just grabbed a couple of Reader's Digest magazines to read. The trip was to attend the first match of the 2006 A-League season on 25/8. In the RD Magazine of August 2005 (same numbers), I noticed something interesting. On page 31 Word Power was about Scrabble words. Word No. 13 was echt*, which I recognized being German-born. 

(*I just recognized the letters etch, they will come up in chapter 12). 

The magazine, however, did not mention that echt is a German word, meaning genuine, real. I was under the impression that in Scrabble you are not allowed to use foreign language words. 

The other co-incident - and please believe me, it was echt - around 3.45 pm that same afternoon (25/8) I was walking near the top of Bourke Street in Melbourne. I thought I'd have a quick look and say a prayer for the politicians of Victoria (they need it) on the  steps of Parliament House. As I got there, what good timing, I noticed that a guided tour was about to start. I tagged along. (Sorry, the Victorian State MPs have to pray for themselves). 

One point I specifically learned during the 1/2 hour tour of the building was that Queen Victoria's husband's name was Albert. That same morning I had taken a long walk to St. Kilda, along Lake Albert in Albert Park.

Barely 60 minutes after the Parliament House tour, back on the bus, I picked up the other RD Magazine I had brought with me. It was the February 2006 Edition. It kind of fell open to the second last page No. 152. There my eyes spotted the name Victoria in the RD Trivia Quiz. Question No. 12. "What was the name of Queen Victoria's husband?" 

I sent the RD Magazine an email with above story. While composing it, I came across a further interesting fact. The theme in the other RD FEB 06 Magazine was LOVE. The letters L.O.V.E. in Scrabble score 7 points - God is indeed Love; number 1 and number 7 at the same time.

As PS I wrote: "Your magazine added to Question 12 - Queen Victoria had an almost obsessive love for her husband, who died young. That's a bit of a worry, because my wife also loves me passionately (I think)."

- - - - - - - 

(Back to 1/9/06) 

Just before commencing this chapter my wife and I had a classic verbal exchange. It was one of those leading nowhere, other than the realization that you can think differently and still love each other. 

I asked casually, while drying myself after a shower: "It's 1/9 today. Do you know what nine means?"

Always cautious about my outside the box ideas, she decided not to comment and walk back to the kitchen. I opened the door and shouted after her: "It means EN IN".

I had a number of times tried to explain, how my unusual story started with seeing the name Liddy as Lindy, a lady wrongfully imprisoned for 3 years. 

I called out down the corridor: "To get Lindy from Liddy - all you need to do is change the d to n".

My wife called back: "You should be doing crosswords." 

This was rather prophetic. I had already decided on writing more chapters, words of the cross.

I have accepted her opposition to my thinking long ago. To me it was part of her natural defense mechanism. She had witnessed my awful mental breakdown years ago. She did not want this to happen again. 

A short time later the 'en in' code came up again. My wife still wondered, why I would make it my business to stand up for a convicted man in jail, when I had never met the man and have nothing at all to do with him? She said: "Let somebody who knows him stick up for him." In her tone of voice I could tell she did not share my believe in the prisoner's innocence. 

God has some humour: I was the one trying to get someone innocent out of jail; my wife Isobel played the role of the opposition. How ironic - our opposition spokesperson for justice, law and order in South Australia's State Parliament is also called Isobel. 

I said: "Somebody did stick up for him". His name is Eugene McGee." Mr. Mc Gee was the lawyer, who acted on behalf of Mr. Liddy in 2001. He was the person involved in an alleged hit-run, drink-driving drama. I say alleged, because there are still many unanswered questions in my mind, none of which were addressed during the Kapunda Road Royal Commission. 

At the time I had little solid information in the Liddy case. I only suspected it was linked to Eugene McGee and his alleged drink driving accident. (Today I know it was so. I have spoken personally to Mr. McGee). 

I knew my little game with the letters D & N or EN IN etc sounded so childish, it would only bring laughter if I talked to a legal professional. Likewise, my wife and family just could not get their thinking outside the rational sphere. They did not understand the dn code, because they never stopped to really listen to it. 

Perhaps, if I were to study the transcript of the court case, would they listen to some rational arguments?    

I decided to investigate details in the case for myself. (Read my findings in the next chapter).

- - - - - - -

 

SHOWCASING OUR LOCAL HE ...

During my June visit to Kapunda I picked up a local Newspaper. Weeks later I happened to flick through it and discovered above gem (No. 15 jersey in front of the scoreboard which shows 03 0). 

It was on page 50. The names of the players, Christie, Heath etc. made me wonder - is the creator a fan of 315 or 0? The zero-magic happened in the Barossa Valley! 

- - - - - - -

 

On Wednesday 19/7, the day I uploaded the previous two chapters of this book, I was driving my wife and son to Adelaide. In Melbourne Street, as we stopped at the traffic lights, I heard on the radio the word store. We were only meters from a place called 'The Store'. Read on and judge for yourself, what transpired in the hour following. Would you feel being watched and set up? 

A few hundred meters further, opposite the Women's and Children's Hospital, I noticed a red station wagon on the grass in the parklands. It looked out of place. Adelaideans love the green belt, which surrounds their inner city. The vehicle violated the parklands. On a closer look I thought I recognized the outside broadcast wagon of the same Radio Station we were listening to.

After dropping off my wife and son,  I decided to drive back to the spot, before going home. I could be missing something. Well, when I got there I either missed it all or nothing went on. The vehicle had gone.

It was a lovely, fresh morning. Why not park the car and take a walk? Half-hour of exercise would stimulate the brain for the monotony of writing, which was on the program that day. In chapter 8 I indicated that my half-hour walk could fill a whole chapter. Here it is:

Out of curiosity I headed toward the spot, where I had seen the red station wagon, less than 20 minutes earlier. There was nothing. At least not on the ground (this came later). I walked on. To my left on a park bench was a bundle, which on closer examination was a man curled up in a sleeping bag. I checked him out. I assumed it was a he. 

It did not look like he had been there all night. I could not even see his face properly, the hood of the sleeping bag covered his it. His belongings were obviously in the black sports bag near where his head was. Now what? I smelled something and it was not the homeless person's body odor. Trying not to disturb the peaceful scene, I left a $ 2 coin on top of the sports bag and left quietly. 

For a fraction of a second my mind flashed up the 'So Good' box of rubbish from a few weeks earlier. I took this as the general direction, where to walk to. Opposite the Adelaide Oval, just off King William Road, I noticed on the ground a beanie, a grey beanie. 

Now the probability that it had something to do with the said Radio Station increased. Less than a year earlier I had bought a red beanie from them. The studio had been filled with tables of hand-knitted, donated beanies. The public was invited to buy them. The money went to charity. 

 

A half-hour walk - a mine field of Da Nin ci.

Every problem has a gift for you in its hand.

The beanie I found was right near this sign, near the Adelaide Oval. The VW pictured had its cover off. As I walked past, moments after picking up the beanie, I knew it was part of the scene - that day's date - July 19th.

If you look at the H in Hand, I see IT, with a slight stretch of the H and the imagination.

 

 Below: NIN - Good one

In a street approx. 500m away was another hint at that day's date 7 (19) - simple mathematics 7 + (4+7+8). Hey, I just saw another equation - Plus 1 adds to 486.

The Impress 1 sports car and the white J tape were only meters from each other and part of the same photo.

 

Walking north on Bagot Street* I saw a glove on the footpath. It looked expensive. I picked it up and left it at the entrance to the nearest office building. It was the OT Company and the MC Group, all housed in this place, called MENAI building.           (Aha, AI MEN). 

(At 2.30 am or so on this day of uploading 3/9/06 I listened to overnight talkback radio. The announcer, who had featured prominently in a previous chapter, mentioned this street name, referring to Darwin, NT. The chapter had not even been uploaded - it scares me to think ...) 

To reach 'So Good' Street I had to cross Ward Street. On my left I passed No. 147, which houses the NN company. Walking on a few seconds a few ladies were unloading the boot of their car. Not that I was curious, but one looked so much like a lady I had met for the first time the Sunday before. (I had attended another performance of The Witness by the same choir, which presented it in the Barossa Valley on Good Friday.)

The likeness in the lady was so great, I took the liberty of asking the young lady: "Excuse me, is your name Lorna? Didn't we meet last Sunday at Edwardstown?

"No, it's not. My name is Lara". 

I apologized and walked on, still pondering the similarity. Later, my diary says, I did an a/o swap and deducted Lara from Larna. The result was a n. How interesting, right next door to the N N company. 

Writing this, convinces me that the man, tucked in the sleeping bag minutes earlier, had been the reporter from the station I had been listening to. Their outside mobile reporter has a name with 3 Ns. Then again, it may just be a matter of seeing the grass greenner thannn it really is.

In Walter Street I discovered that opposite No. 155 is the IMVS organisation. More useless trivia, unless (now I see it) it could become 1155, if the S is turned into a 5. But even then, would this bit of information even get me a drink at the nearest coffee shop?

Walter Street has a weird shape. We all have seen streets turning corners, or being cut by a crossroad and continuing. This one has the shape of a T. If you were to enter Walter Street from Ward Street and your friend from O'Connell Street, you would meet up, where Walter Street forms a T junction with itself. They must have run out of names. I have not seen this anywhere. 

(Just now, on editing, I did a little wordplay - Walter minus Ward results in letters which could be forming TEL D. In one of my chapters I was led to Tel three times!      

Near a letterbox, outside No. 22 in another street, I saw a leaflet on the ground. By now I was in a frame of mind (I can't explain the phenomena) which sensed something and made me walk back a few steps and pick it up. The brochure was advertising the services of Australia Post. The North Adelaide Post office was only meters away, across the road in Tynte Street... 

(Yeah, now I get it, just as I type it came - 202 Tynte Street had featured in an earlier chapter - and the leaflet was outside 22 - 0 - that figures. I also just became aware this is my 220th chapter of my autobiography - Book 5, Chapter 10)..

At the time I had another confirmation that I was on track. Opposite the post office a car pulled away, just as I came by; a Mercedes, registration number 221  (220 plus one). My dairy adds - I am sure I am watched !

To draw attention to the whole drama, I did something different. I ripped the leaflet from Australia Post into a large letter J. I crossed the road and left it inside the alcove (nice name alcove) of the Post Office in Tynte Street. It was still early morning, around 8.20 am. The main door was still shut. Many customers would be walking into the post office later, probably wondering about the J on top of the steps.

There was another reason I did this. It was around that time I had read the transcript in the Liddy case. On one page I read that one of the main accusers in the Liddy case had worked at this Post Office. Peter had recognized the young man one day and exchanged a few words.

I knew my 50 cents parking fee would soon be used up. Still there was one more remarkable observation, which would later lead to another discovery online. A flyer displayed in a restaurant window read - Make sense of Life. I hardly took notice, still amazed at the Merc's rego 221. 

Seconds later it registered - make sense of life. The slogan on my driving school website came to me - it all makes sense. I walked back and read the flyer more carefully. The name Poulton stood out immediately. A meeting was advertised in the Cynthia Poulton Hall. The date, May 27th, however had long gone. The flyer looked younger than 2 months old. I noted it was an invitation to a Buddhist gathering.

Later that evening I googled for a Buddhist website with an Adelaide contact. It was easy to find. I emailed the contact listed and received a nice reply. (One day I will take up the invitation to visit Buddha-house). But strange as it sounds, there were two incidences, which either were co-incidental or it was some kind of test, which I needed to pass. 

The first was the sender's web address. It came up as GABE. This is the same word as the German word for gift. The first word in the second line in above sign, outside the Language Learning Centre, is gift. This is a long shot, which again would not buy me a coffee anywhere. 

The second peculiarity jumped at me from the screen on the Buddha-house's website. To sent an email I had to copy a word shown on the screen into my P/C. The first word that came up was SUFFER. This led me to the next step, another word for verification. This time is was the word REALM. (REALM). This really did jump at me. If or what, if anything at all was behind it, who knows?

  

 - - - - - - 

A Holden Astra and a Yamaha motorcycle collided on Main North Road on 18/7/06. It happened about 6.50 am, the rider died. The article in the newspaper indicated that there had been a sharp increase in the number of cyclists killed - from 9 in all of 2005 to 12 in the first seven months of 06.

I visited the scene on my way home on 19/7, where I picked up the MINT wrapper on the grass near the cross. The mourners didn't waste time erecting a roadside shrine for the 40 year odd, who had died barely 24 hours earlier. 

According to the board attached to the white cross, the deceased's name was Eddie. His friends had also interesting names - Tony, Rocky, Dave, Peter, EM.TJ, Kylie and (Miss you, love you) love Paige. (Which Page?)

Hearing it on the radio the morning it happened, I knew the location was right near the Furniture Store, which had featured the green Lounge/Ottoman in their catalog. But only then, when driving off did I notice the businesses on each corner. South was the NMC store (baby gear).

On the northern corner was the sign for a mechanical business repairing a car's CV Joint. It only came while writing this - join t to see V? Goes well with the Mint.

- - - - - - -

 

On the way home, again it is difficult to explain, I experienced a case of mental telepathy or plain guidance from whatever spirit controlled me. Earlier in the morning on my walk, just north of Bagot Street, I had picked off the street a used bus ticket. I had sensed some significance; the number 210 was one of the numbers on it. But I had no idea what to do with it. I dropped it into a letterbox in Walter Street. Don't ask why.

Now, as I passed the Service Station on Main North Road, corner Montague Road, on the far end I spotted a bus in the driveway by a petrol pump. I remembered the bus ticket. It was too late to stop and check out the bus. Inside, however, I was stirred to act, do something. I could find no rational explanation, why I should delay my trip home any longer. 

With every second driving further my inner-self felt uneasy. I started praying. So much had happened at that corner. The experience in Chapter 8 is only a small part. (I had weeks before picked up a newspaper and seen a code, one which led to New South Wales and to the name of a very senior politician - so much to tel, so little time). 

Still driving at full speed north and thinking about the bus, I suddenly heard the name 'bus' on the radio. I could no longer ignore my inner prompting and turned left at the next turn. A few minutes later I entered the car park and parked my Suzuki near the bus.  

As I did the driver boarded his medium sized bus, and drove away. I read the name of the company (FOR-N-HOME) and the registration plate - the cross (is) it, number 149 (not in that order).

Was this another message - 1 for ENIN or was the key word - Home? 

It was not yet 9 am. The mornings events took up four pages in my diary.

 

Chapter 11

Index