15. Save your skin - it is hot

 

What a day! Those are the first three words in my diary for Friday 16/06/06.

 

I heard on the radio about a funeral service, which interested me. They gave the location, but not the starting time. I tried to find out when it was to be held, but even Mr. Goggle let me down that morning. I could have taken this as a sign, I was not meant to go. I still went.

 

In fact, not knowing what time it starts was to my advantage. It made me arrived very early, which  gave me time for a bike ride in the beautiful South Australian country side, which was lovely and green on that sunny winter's day.

 

The service I was planning to attend was in the Mid Northern town of Laura. A tragic accident had claimed the lives of three men. A massive explosion, so it was reported, devastated an explosives factory and a large area surrounding it. Two men had already been buried earlier.

 

According to media reports, one of the victims Bruce Millington, whose memorial service was held that Friday, had been blown such a distance by the explosion, it took days to find his remains.

 

My green machine, my bicycle loaded in the back, and I were leaving Para Hills, driving west on Kings Road before 8am. Thankfully, the Suzuki achieves around 600 km for a tank full of petrol. I was to cover over 400 kilometres that day. 

 

At a petrol station in Port Wakefield, (Postcode 5550 and 100 kilometres from Adelaide)  I filled up with $ 35 Petrol. The lady must have been familiar with my story, and recognized my registration plate and vehicle. Did she let me know by asking: "You're on pump No. 3, no No. 5 - that's $ 35 Dollars thanks".

 

Often for fun I filled up with a special amount, such as $ 31.50. Recently on 27/9 I bought $ 27.90 at a Liberty service station. For the rest of the day, everywhere service station I passed seemed to sell unleaded fuel for $ 1.279.

 

(I like the word petrol as much as gas - P&t (on L - gas read backwards is the German word for tell).

 

My next stop was Crystal Brook, where my imagination started to go funny, or those stalking me had their agents in place. a vehicle parked near mine. I read the registration plate Victories 1666. This was to be a day for more victories!

 

At the tourist information in Crystal Brook a lady told me the funeral service at Laura starts at 1 PM. I was glad I had not missed it; even had time to spare. I considered cycling the distance, but it would have been a rush and I would have arrived sweating. So I decided to drive to the nearby town of Gladstone, near where the explosion was reported to have occurred, and cycle the rest  of the way.

 

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Crystal Brook, South Australia.

The 1875 Museum features an Underground Bakehouse.

 

 

Until just now, after I scanned the photo, I had only seen 'all rose' in the advertisement on the wall of the museum.

 

A closer look revealed - 158+7. (In the previous chapter I had fun with 158+9).

 

If the 7 refers to God, then the unrivalled pick is the L -  L is IT.

 

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Near Laura, South Australia

Just before cycling into the township of Laura I saw a sign Cowin Street. Win always turns me on, so I cycled that way and took above photo.

 

What do I see in above photo? Two horses and seven sheep. (Go ahead, count the animal's legs, divide by four and you will find I was correct. You may also want to count the number of trees ... I am sure, the number has a significance ...). 

 

I had taken a walk on Good Friday 06 and stumbled across seven sheep, after walking along Cross Street. (Read on - another Cross Street is coming).

 

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As I edit this chapter I can't help seeing the phrase Jesus used  -  Feed my sheep - in a different light: First walk the way of the cross - then feed HIS sheep! The most effective Christian is the one, whose Spirit has been broken, who by the grace of God has been raised, and with a passion for his Master is feeding HIS sheep!

- - - - - - -

 

 

 

The town of Laura is situated on the Rocky River. The population in 1993 was listed as 510. The towns main link to fame is the Poet C.J. Dennis, who wrote "The Sentimental Bloke" (which, let me assure you, was not about me).

 

Although born in Auburn, CJ Dennis spent some of his formative childhood years in Laura and later spoke with fond memories of the time. (Nice word fond).

 

After a very enjoyable, relaxing cycle from Gladstone, 11 kilometres away, I still had a few minutes to spare. There was much activity in the  wide, main street; parked cars, people already entering a white, flat roofed building. I figured this must be the Civic Centre. A silver hearse was parked in the driveway. I must have been the only one arriving by bicycle for the occasion.

 

Before joining the crowd I paid a brief visit to a Christian Book/Gift shop. The lady I got talking to showed me on a map, where the explosion supposedly had taken place. It surprised me to hear it was along a dirt road, well away from the town, in a bushland setting. Only minutes earlier I had cycled past the turnoff. I could not recall any clue or sign, which indicated there was a factory up that track. 

 

This unusual location, plus many other facts about the reported tragedy, did not make sense to me. Factories are normally on the outskirts of towns and cities. I could not find the factory listed in the phone book, under the name given on the News (Quinn Investments).

 

Windows had been reported shattered as far as a kilometre away, yet from what I saw on the TV there was not even a crater in the ground. Would not the trees surrounding the factory have absorbed the blast?

 

Likewise, it had taken many days to find the Millington body, because it had allegedly been flung far and wide. But since the explosion occurred in a bush setting, how far could one blow away, before being stopped by a tree?

 

The timing of the accident was also strange - it occurred with hours of rescue workers freeing two miners in Beaconsfield, Tasmania. The two men had sat in a small cage for two weeks. When they were freed on the morning of 9/5/06, they walked out of the lift at ground level, as if they were returning from a moon walk, to be cheered by the crowds, in front of TV cameras. Why do I find myself asking questions again?

 

 

Despite having arrived 20 minutes early there was standing room only in the reasonably large Civic Centre. I walked to the back and stood in a small room to view the service through the open door. It surprised me that the local Member of Parliament, a former Premier of the State, was also standing in that same, small room. I would have thought the organisers would have reserved seat for this VIP.

 

Before the service started it was quite an eerie atmosphere, standing in silence with strangers, in a small room. Midway through the service a boy suddenly collapsed nearby. Someone called out: "Are you OK, Andrew? Get an ambulance!" They took the boy outside. Nothing was said about the incidence. Later he appeared to have recovered OK.

 

Bruce Millington was born on 6.1.61. The figures looked very similar to that of his funeral service. He died on 9/5/06. His favourite car, as was shown in the DVD celebrating his life, was a Cobra 068.

 

The 6 & 8 must have turned on my Da Ninci brain. Or should I say, it was already switched on, after I had, no joke, listened to the radio on the way to Laura. Exactly as the announcer spoke about the cyclone at Innisfail three months earlier, a vehicle passed me, registration plate ...486.

 

Darren's vehicle - Cobra - and the street I had cycled in  - Cowin - gave me the words Coco and brain. There is a W left over - anyone need a W?

 

 

- - - - - - -

 

What on earth was I there for?

 

 

Funeral Service for Bruce Millington, Civic Hall, Laura, Postcode 5480.

 

His wife's name was Judith. Their children are Rhys, Koby and Bailey. I can't help seeing J you di t.

Moving one R I arrive at the name Korby.

All of their children's names contain the letter Y. B is the only letter used twice. 

 

The hymnal was "Amazing Grace".

The slogan on the cover of the funeral leaflet:

The greatest gift a father can give his children is to love their mother".

 

- - - - - - -

 

 

-  Hi die -

Not Gladstone, South Australia, but Graubuenden, Switzerland.

In my book ...but now I'm found, Chapter 31, I wrote that my wife and I had stopped at a sale in Gladstone and bought a video. The reason I bought it: When I was 12 years old I spent 2 weeks on a holiday camp in Graubuenden, Switzerland, near where the film Heidi had been made.

 

To be honest, I had also bought it because my interpretation of Heidi = Hi die!

 

This is why I was so surprised on 16/6/06 to find, the place where I had bought Heidi, as well as parked my Suzuki  was in Cross Street, Gladstone.

 

It so happened that I had bought the Heidi Video exactly 396 days earlier on 19/3/05, exactly one year before Cyclone Larry struck in Innisfail, Queensland.

 

But there was more: As I cycled along Cross Street I spotted  a pen. I picked it up and noticed the two letters CR printed on it. Later , getting back to my car, I realized I had not only parked in Cross Street, but right outside a branch of CRT, a company, which I had mentioned in an earlier chapter.

 

(The full inscription on the pen, according to my diary, was Cristal M CR - Sorry, I can't locate the item).

 

- - - - - - -

 

Readers will remember that the street names Owen and Edith had a connection to my incredible story about cyclone Larry. It so happened, as if the script had been written for a Hollywood fairytale, that there was a town called Owen on my way home. I purposely decided to drive the short detour, just for fun.

 

On leaving the town of Balaclava, I took a wrong turn and failed to find the turn off to Owen. For a short time I drove around, looking for someone to ask. I noticed a lady walking her small dog. She was on the far side of the road, so I stopped in the middle of the road (broke the road rules again) and asked for direction.

 

As I looked up I noticed I was in Edith Street.

 

When I finally found the turn-off to Owen, something in the middle of the road turned me on. A large black ring (a fan belt) was lying in the centre of the road. It's foolish, I know, but the 0 story of Easter 06 had only just been published, so I turned the car around and picked it up.

 

On the way the word fan (of) be LT came to my mind. (Fan is definitely a better term than stalker). When I picked up the belt I read the Part No. A 40. Good enough for me. I cleared the road of rubbish once again.

 

Arriving home, around 6 pm well after sunset, I had covered 422 kilometres. My diary records:

The odometer read 222 000. I felt reluctant to tell everyone where I had been. They don't understand, who can I talk to? Lonely but lovely  - (ONE OVE)." (I had played with the words in my own diary).

 

Where I had been would have been simpler to explain than, why I had gone all that way for a stranger's funeral service. The name Laura had popped up a few times in my writing. The name has a touch of aura (L-aura). Deep down, however, it was my doubts about the bizarre incident itself, the unexplained questions, which made me take the long trip.

 

For some time I had incorrectly thought that the postcode for Laura was 5860, which was another reason, why I kept up such great interest in the event. How I had gotten this wrong until the day of writing, I can't understand.

 

Unless it has to do with the number 380. Adding this number to the correct postcode 5480 would make 5860. (Strange, on the day of writing the Boeing Airbus 380 made headline News. There is a delay in the delivery of the new aircraft).

 

The postcode of another town, connected to another big story in the media in early mid 2006, looked very similar to 4860 - 3860! It is the postcode for the Victorian town of Briagolong. This is the home town of Private Kovco, the soldier who had accidentally shot and killed himself, under mysterious circumstances, while serving in Iraq.

 

The newspapers and airwaves are still filled with the story, which also leaves many questions unanswered. Perhaps it's all about filling the newspapers and airwaves with stories to keep us all entertained?

 

That's OK, as long as what we read, see and hear is the truth.

 

As I write the death is reported of Peter Norman, a US ex-athlete and friend of Tommy Smith. Something inside jells within me. Is the answer to why I attend stranger's funerals somehow connected to hearing news stories about people dying?

 

 

- - - - - - -

Below: I found this wine-bottle label right under the sign - echt fist, near the corner Main North Road/Robe Terrace (see Ch. 13)

 

 

2004 Cabernet Shiraz - 750 ml battle (sic). I saw the dogs.

Just for the fun of it - please don't take it seriously - I added 750 + ML (1050) = 1800 + 2004 = 3804.

 

I think I was meant to pick up this bottle in the gutter under the sign.  Normally, after his bee-sting immunisations I drive my son Jon home, for obvious reasons. That day, out of the blue, he said: "I feel OK, dad, I'll drive".

 

As we stopped at the red traffic lights at Robe Terrace I happened to glance into the gutter from the passenger's seat and saw the word HUNT. Hunt was the name of the journalist, who had reported the Kapunda Road Royal Commission. Wine had played a big role in the Eugene McGee hit run case and later at 1/26 Flinders Street.

 

I insisted that Jon stop the car in a nearby side street. I collected the broken bottle from under the sign. When I came back with my find, I felt like I had won fist (sic) prize in the Boy Scout's annual treasure hunt.

 

But there is more - Cast your mind back to May 05. One day, leaving the KRRC hearing in Flinders Street, I entered the lift on the first floor. Some of the big players (you know the game - they play, you pay) were in the lift with me. But the lift did not go down, it went up by mistake.

 

The door opened on the Twelfth Floor. Nobody exited. I bet, everyone read the huge letters above the reception desk, just outside the lift - Hunt and Hunt. Got the hint? Seventeen months later I'm still hunting, still hinting. 

- - - - - - -

 

 

It was the day (24/7) of our 35th wedding anniversary. It was a sunny day. Adelaide had many sunny, dry days this winter and is still having them as I write in early October.

As I write (on Oct 4/06) the weather is big News; the minimum temperature overnight had been 22 degrees (C). The forecast is for high temperatures, 10 degrees above normal, and extreme fire danger. People are asking themselves, what will our real fire season shape up to look like, if the rains don't come before the real fire season?

We took this occasion (*read about occasion at the end of this chapter) to visit the southern side of Adelaide. At the request of my wife, we visited and had lunch at the huge shopping complex at Marion. Later we went for a stroll at Brighton Beach and a coffee at an outdoor Cafe on Jetty Road.

 

OK, I know what you think; believe me, for my wedding anniversary I would also have preferred Waikiki Beach on Oahu. However, what I saw outside the Brighton Surf Life Saving Club, was as valuable as a trip to Hawaii. I spotted a clue, which indicated to me that others in Adelaide must be thinking the way I do about the Liddy case.

 

Here is the photo I took of the large container, placed right on the lawn of the Clubhouse.

 

 

 

 

 Left: Container 9 G on the lawn outside the Surf Life Saving Club.

On right: B righton Surf Life Saving Club slogan - Save your skin.

Adelaide faces danger this summer season - Danger from fire and danger in the water.

 

If the authorities, from senior politicians to influential church leaders and journalists, keep ignoring my voice and refuse to face the big C (and I don't mean Hepatitis C) Adelaide faces fire on another front - a corrupt element that fails to deliver justice. I could point to a name right here - but the time is not yet!

 

Stop Press: On the evening of writing the headline News was the arrest of six people after investigations by the Anti-Corruption Branch. One of the arrested is a policewoman from the Northern suburbs. She will appear in court, charged with supplying classified information to Adelaide's drug dealers.

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Uncanny timing - as I write these lines of the first draft of this chapter, our Minister of Police is being interviewed on radio, regarding new gun laws to better combat outlawed motor-cycling gangs.

- - - - - - -

 

 

Hours before writing this I made a phone call to Sydney. I was almost sure, I had cracked a code again. This one had looked at me, on the wall of my office, for nearly two years. Today I got it.  A montage of pictures of our football-team support group shows players and supporters celebrating a win at the Parramatta Stadium. In the background I saw part of a billboard. Only the letters ccasion and a phone number are visible. 

 

Out of curiosity I dialled the number on the billboard, to enquire what company it was. When I heard that part of their name was ALL, it all figured. I must have confused the perplexed receptionist when I told her, how I saw in the word occasion:

 

By changing the letter a to e and reading the word backwards, you will get - noise. Adelaide United supporter's group, originally called the Stand, now called The Gate, has as original theme song the opening line: "Come on boys, make some noise..."

 

I've made enough noise in recent months. Is anybody listening?

 

 

Chapter 16

 

Index