(Please note: The date of final editing and uploading this chapter is 1/1/07 (US) and Australia (2/1/07).
24. A cap the key?
Once again I am absolutely astounded about the perfect timing of events. Without any manipulation, apart from determining the uploading date, the magical script had me in tears, after I had seen God at work with numbers, once again.
To know that somebody is interested in us, arranging miracle after miracle, simply to show Himself to his creation, each of us, is nothing short of breathtaking. Let me say it once again, I am far too ordinary to come up with the magical timing of it all. HE once again overpowered me, showing HE is there. When it happened, the year 2007, was barely 10 hours old.
In the previous chapter the address 170 Francis Rd (very similar to 1-7 Francis Av) played quite a role. The title 'Proclamation Day' seemed appropriate, because I had written it on the day, where South Australia celebrated Proclamation Day. What I did not think of was that it was 170 years, since the original event, the proclamation of South Australia in 1836. (But that wasn't the real magic).
Early in my writing I had brought into my stories the number of people killed on our state's roads. On 1/1/07, as I write, I have reason to mention the road toll. The total for 2006 was 117, the lowest since 1949. (But this was still not the numbers twist, I referred to in the introductory paragraphs).
Many readers, I sense, are tiring of this weird game with numbers. To a degree I am too, and so is my wife. Our relationship, surprisingly perhaps, is as good as it has been for many years. She is accustomed to me being a little crazy, but mega excentric. I have long ago accepted that she showed little interest, and attitude to follow my thinking, because I sound not just a little crazy, but mega crazy and mega excentric.
She felt safe going to church with me or to meet friends, as long as I stayed away from talking about the man in jail. Sweeping dirt under carpets is a quick-fix, which is as old as carpets themselves.
To me the truth about the man in jail has become a greater issue than a mere miscarriage of justice. If an official enquiry, with a subsequent admission by the authorities, proved the magistrate was indeed framed, perhaps my family would regard me no longer as mentally ill. (But there is no guarantee of this, as I have found out after posing the question).
Further than that, even the biggest doubter, would have to rethink, if indeed my excentric mind was guided by an intelligent, higher power. When my dream comes true, and truth will win the day, many prominent politician and community leaders, who had used the Liddy case for their own political purposes, will have egg on their faces. I say, better egg on your face now, rather than shame and damnation for eternity.
- - - - - - -
TRUe ne r g y - Our Power supply company.
SHIVERS !* or whatever word you use when your hot water runs out mid-shower.
In the 1990's there was a big public debate about our power supply. The Government consistently denied that it intended to privatise our Electricity after the next election.
Lo and behold, once re-elected they broke their promise and privatised our Energy anyway, arguing it would bring us cheaper power. It did the opposite, prices went up and rather sharply.
I witnessed the deception first hand. One of my clients had come from England. He took his driving lessons from work, the Headquarters of our Electricity Company.
Well before the election, while the Government was denying it intended to sell off ETSA (the power company), they had already brought this person from England. He had expertise in this field in the UK.
The Government, not surprisingly, lost the following election in a landslide. The leader of this Government conveniently took on a posting overseas. The last time I read about him, he lived in a 14-million Dollar apartment in New York, financed by the the tax-payers of South Australia.
Next time I hear anybody saying that eliminating corruption in the third world would fix poverty, I think: If they were to start fighting corruption by those in dark suits in the West, we all could start tackling world poverty - with truth and genuine love.
The result will be world peace through Jesus Christ, who said, I am the way, the truth and the life. In the same chapter (John 14) HE says, HE has many 14 million Dollar apartments vacant, ready for ............. (insert your name).
- - - - - - -
Increasingly, hidden messages were my daily diet, being fed to me from all directions, especially the media. I was cautious to not get too excited, when I viewed these codes as positive feedback. Likewise, when codes had a threatening overtone, I took note, but was not going let anyone stop the work God gave me to do, no matter how big the threat. (You will read one of those perceived threats in a moment).
If I had become a thorn in the flash of those, who don't like the truth, so be it. If we allow a collusion between Government, the judiciary and the media to go unchallenged, God knows where we end up.
Nobody has ever challenged me seriously and specifically in my outrageous claims, apart from one female politician, who emailed me, saying little else than - I needed help. She questioned my sanity.
I replied politely, saying: "You are so right. If you are one of only a handful, who know the truth about an innocent man in jail for 25 years, you need all the help you can get."
I sensed for a long time now that there is a debate going on, behind the scenes, if I was genuine, or just a fruitcake. Those who accuse me of enjoying this type of attention, I respect your thought.
It I am attention seeking or not, I am not sure. What I do know, those who read my excentric pages, will find some gems, if they open their heart and mind to see them. If people are talking about previous taboo subjects openly, like God, Jesus, eternal life, unconditional love, my dream from years ago has come true.
This was my desire during the lowest point in my life. The dream I nurtured in that Institution for the insane has come true.
- - - - - - -
Christmas Card - Special -
Among the dozen of Christmas cards received, this one stood out. The tallest building in this group of seven, looks identical to the Pliensauturm, the tower in Esslingen, Southern Germany, where I spent much of my youth, until I migrated to Australia.
The card came from one of my best friends in Germany. He knew.
One question while on Christmas cards: Do you feel the same way? When I receive a card from a relative or somebody I used to know well, and all I receive is card with a flowery verse by a poet like Reiner Stice, don't you feel, that you are just another name, who was crossed off the long list of annual bothers?
(Hey, minus the r, a brother becomes a bother- that's cleve). What would you say the r stands for?
Did you know? Frank Sinatra, inspired by a German friend and a Christmas carol, wrote a song, his best ever. It was never released. Nobody liked the lyrics: A way in a German, no c ...
- - - - - - -
On 28/12, the day after uploading the previous chapter, I saw on the TV News the name Tiffany in large letters on the side of a block of units. An elderly lady had been found there strangled; her body dumped in a wheelie bin (a large trash bin with wheels).
Around the same time, during a radio news item, I had heard the name Tiffany a second time. On this occasion Tiffany was the name of a young lady, who had crashed her car at 3 am on the M 5 motorway, near Sydney. The young lady, who, according to the report died in the crash, was that of an ex-Premier of New South Wales. Her vehicle was not discovered until 15 minutes later, at 3.15 am.
After the initial news item on radio, I expected the story to make it into the TV News. Nothing much more was reported, however, unless I missed it. Please nobody assume I am constantly watching TV, or listen to the radio, in order to find fault or to link names and numbers to my story.
But when specific, simple or complex, data comes across my sensitive Spirit, and a certain thought pattern develops and keeps flashing through my mind, why should I not ask myself (and God) if I should take action? When the gate stays open, I walk through.
(I realize, the longer my story continues, the more data will match previous data, by the sheer volume of material. My writing, at least on this level, I sense, is coming to an end soon).
The name Tiffany kept coming up for a day or two. After some googling and reading about the case, I questioned one point about the lady's death in an email to the Melbourne Age.
Without going into detail, I pointed out that it did not make sense, that a murderer, instead of leaving a dead woman's body inside the unit, where he killed her, he dragged her outside, into a public place, mid-afternoon, and dumped her into a wheelie bin.
I was inspired to further action, after I had seen another Premier, the current Premier of Queensland (in early 07) make an announcement on TV regarding the drought. His state was trialling a cloud seeding program, costing 7.6 (note) million Dollars. (Cloud seeding is the controversial, expensive practice of flying chemicals above clouds and dropping them in order to release rain).
While watching the Premier talk, the word cloud seeding was displayed on the TV monitor. Something within my brain, the part that sees codes like the N, switched on. I saw by replacing one d with n, and one e with n, cloud seeding turned into cloun sending. A song Send in the clown sprung to mind; an excuse for sending a humourous message.
While sending a message to the media, I took the opportunity to hint at the Tiffany incident - the clue is the name Faye.
Subject: Cloun sending
I have inside information for Mr. Beattie, which might save him spending 7.6 million on cloud seeding. Gather 153 Aboriginal women in a circle, at least one must be called Faye, all must wear an Eve costume. Then play the song - Sending the clowns.
If my informant is correct it will bring rain with the next shower.
PS Watching Mark in Hobart brought back memories. I used to work in the building in the background, at 23 Old Wharf at Henry Jones IXL. I was chief rainmaker, but got the sack. I didn't XL.
The remarks in the PS are all true, except the rainmaker bit. The TV presenter Mark had been broadcasting live from Hobart's Constitution Dock, the finishing line of the famous Sydney to Hobart Yacht Classic. In the background, it was plain to see, the stone frontage of the building I had worked in for just over 18 months in the mid 1970's.
As a back-up phone number in my email, I found one, which ended in ...007 and is associated with a business name, Tiffany...
In an unusual sequel to above message, it appeared to me somebody turned the tables. They arranged to have fun with me and numbers. The digits used had been prominent in the chapter 23, one I had uploaded the night before - 138. Here is what I noticed:
Within a few seconds of sending above email I received the usual automated reply - a URL popped up with a thank-you for contacting the program message. I almost missed it, but for a second, before moving on, I caught both the 138 and 76 in the URL number in the address bar ....16873.htm.
Had it not been for the precise timing, I may not have taken any notice.
- - - - - - -
...FY 316 - Registration plate found on McIntyre Road.
During a recent clean up of my shed I came across this licence plate. In 2004 or 2005, when I had picked it up while cycling, only two Da Ninci codes registered - the location (Re Y Son -in the cross) and 316, which matched perfectly.
Handling this plate during my clean-up a third clue emerged, a number on the back. It may indeed be nothing at all, but it was hard to not see A0 (or AQ) 1963, plus the ending N 3/5.
- - - - - - -
On the morning of writing, during prayer, a thought pattern distracted my mind, distracted is the wrong word, but you understand. It was about the number 1836, C less than 1936. The year 1836 is the year our State had been proclaimed. They also happen to be the date our last State Election was held on 18.3.06.
I had helped the Family First Party, handing out how-to-vote leaflets outside the Woodville Town Hall. I was handed a slip of paper, which again I came across during the recent clean up.
Like much of my thinking, if this tangent is nothing at all, life would be much simpler. But I must be true to myself. Considering the road I had travelled, there are a number of connection, which still need, examining.
I cut the notice to fit into my diary:
One of our state-history's darkest chapters are the Snowtown murders during the 1990's. The bizarre case was famous, because eight of the nine murder victims were disposed of in barrels and placed in a disused bank vault in Snowtown. After the publicity surrounding the case, some wanted to change the name of the small town, 145 kilometres north of Adelaide, to Rosetown.
One of the victims was called Bunting. The way the suburb Croydon was written in above note, it reminded me of another Snowtown murder victim's name - Haydon. There is no gap between the oy and the on (Oh, why on - I just discovered this, within an hour of writing the joke about Frank Sinatra under the Christmas card above - that's weird, friends).
Croydon 240 in above picture indicated that I had been allocated 240 leaflets with both, the Pennington and Croydon candidates listed, in case voters came from the adjacent electorate Croydon to vote. (The Member for Croydon happens to be our Attorney-General, Mr. Atkinson).
In my pre-waking sleep on 1/1/07 I saw the word bank-vault in Da Ninci. Now I look at Haydon-Croydon, and wonder, what is behind it all?
Lawyer Eugene McGee was working on the Snowtown case, as well as that of Peter Liddy. According to Wikipedia the Snowtown case has been subject to over 250 suppression orders, many of which have not yet been lifted. Are suppression orders a legitimate tool to continue evil legally? Is this what Psalm 94, Verse 20 means, where it says: ... they devise evil by law?"
Another stimulating thought: Snow (town-Town) Hall = Nows IT all. - No, I don't need brain by-pass surgery - our lawyers, politicians and the media need the key to open the door to truth and justice. If I handed them the key - would they walk through the door?
- - - - - - -
(Back to my love affair with the media)
Only a day after the cloun sending fun, another chain of events happened, resulting in a very familiar number, showing up on a reply-thank-you URL. On a current affairs TV program a story came onto the screen. It was a typical 'somebody's done somebody wrong' tale, which stirs viewer's emotions, feeling contempt for one, and pity for the other.
A lady had bought a block of land, which the seller had lived on and divided up. The purchaser built a house on the property, but was not granted permission (by the one who sold the land) to connect the sewer. The toilet of the new house was unusable, so the lady had hired a portable toilet, called port-a-loo.
In a classic stunt, the reporter conducted business, interviewing the irate new home owner, through the closed port-a-loo door, while she was inside doing her business. She allegedly spent already $ 1000 to conduct her business. The reason given for refusal to run the sewerage pipe through the land, was a dog run. The neighbour claimed, it would interrupt the dog run, whatever this meant.
I watched the amusing story with my sceptical, code filled brain. My wife also watching the item and took it all in. I didn't tell her my doubts, or what codes I saw. Any comments on my part would cause her to react. I'd be on the nose, if you get my drift.
The next morning 30/12/06 I remembered the unusual current affairs item. I was inspired to write an email to this current affairs program, following up on my chapter about truth in the media. I went online, found the TV Program's website and filled in the feedback form, which asks viewers to suggest a topic. What better topic for a current affairs program than the truth in relationships?
My message went something like this (Sorry, I failed to copy/paste it into my P/C):
I have a friend, who tells lies. He tells them so blatantly, which I find unacceptable. Our relationship is in jeopardy. He lets his children watch AO videos, but denies it, when I challenge him. He claims he runs his dog for 5 kilometres every day, when after a few moments I know he is breathless.
Once he hired a port-a-loo and says, it cost him $ 1000, when in fact it was far less than that. What can I do to stop him from telling lies, without too much damage to our re la tionship?
When I pressed the sent buttom, I did not even think of the time or date. After doing so I realized it had been 8.13 am, the digits, which refuse to go away.
As with the other TV Channel only the day before, a thank-you URL popped up. Again I could not help noticing, but I was not looking for it, the only number used in this URL was a familiar one, linked to my earliest discovery of magic - 228.
- - - - - - -
Plastic milk bottle - was it crushed like this by accident or was an intelligent brain playing tricks to test God? Note the letters re NAMIC, LL AM K.
What should I make of en dies?
I spotted this while cycling opposite house No. (you know), which was for sale, in Home Street, Para Hills.. I did not get off my bicycle immediately, only after seeing the name of the intersecting street *Gould Street.
The product label shows the milk was produced in Bendigo, Victoria. This is interesting. A month prior my wife and I had spent a few days in Bendigo.
*Hey, I just got it - Bendigo is famous for Gold - how interesting!
The next chapter or two, God willing, will reveal the Bendigo magic. The story will include a few items I picked up from off the streets - pure gold.
- - - - - - -
Since I had publicly, if you can call writing on this website publicly, announced that I may be travelling again in 07, I found it only fair to mention this to my wife. I had a strong feeling of deja vu, as I gently tried to explain it. Our dilemma had changed little from 2005, when I last took a trip across the Pacific to California. Even back then, I knew God was doing a great work, something very, very special and supernatural in nature.
My wife's brain is differently structured, certainly not nasty in any way. She could not see beyond a husband, who was outplaying his mental confusion from years earlier. Even before leaving on the 2005 trip, my second to the US on this mission, I had doubts that it would bring a resolve in the stalemate my wife and I were in. I sensed that a third trip might become necessary. At the time of writing, on the eve of 2006, God willing travelling is on the agenda for 2007.
But how could I explain that which is difficult to even for me to understand? As before, I had little to show my wife, family or friends, as a reason for my going away. All I had was a sense of God, telling me what to do! My wife's counter argument: "Why don't you run this passed our Pastor?"
A good question, which I reply with two thoughts. Firstly, where in the scripture does it say, if God is talking to a believer to take certain action, to go to a Pastor and have it confirmed? Am I correct to suspect, a Pastor who has an ardent believer come to him and claims to have heard from God, is already slightly biased? What if the Pastor does not agree his parishioner's ear was tuned to God, but the result of an overdose of Da Ninci the night before?
Secondly, this is from my observations in modern churches, Pastors roles are much like that of a CEO, Chief Executive Officer, much like the head of companies. This limits their ability to connect at ground level, leaving in depth-counselling to others.
In my situation, to explain to anyone the winding path, which brought me to this point, the decision to again travel, would take far longer than an hour or two of counselling. To be very frank, if I examined my heart, I detect a degree of fear - fear of being rejected by my church family. My natural family can't accept the new person I have become.
So why was I planning on travelling? Even outside the spiritual realm, it was plain to see that my continuous, more intense push to have the Liddy case reopened, posed a degree of danger. If indeed the underworld, drug dealers for instance, were at work, it would not be the first time an anti-drugs campaigner had just disappeared, never to be seen again.
(I am thinking of a brave man named Mackay, who was murdered in Griffiths, New South Wales, after exposing the evil drug trade. Strange, a day or so ago, a young 17-year old was reported killed in that town).
The word assassination is the word used for the deliberate act of killing, with a specific goal in mind. Just before Christmas 06 a totally wild excursion led me close to assassination - relax, not the real thing, only the word.
It started on Tuesday evening, 19/12/06 - Why I suspected a link between a news story on TV and my story, is unclear to me. All I know something deep inside stirred, as I took in the details.
What came next was a short surf online, followed by a short trip in my Suzuki to the Western suburbs. One reason I mention this here, later that night I found physical evidence, literally found it on the side of the road, with a direct connection to the TV Channel, I had sent above feedback to.
A large house fire in Henley Beach was in the morning's radio news. Damage was estimated at around $ 800 000. On the evening TV News damaged had reached the Million dollar mark. The blaze was reported as having started in the carport, then spread to the back of the house and the roof.
My mind ticked over. Carports don't normally hold much flammable material. Plus, how could investigators be so sure, so soon, that arson was rules out as the cause? A further comment, that the owner of the newly built mansion operates a business in the City, a nightclub, raised my level of interest.
There had been fires around Adelaide previously, where I had reason to raise questions. The biggest occurred in Mitcham, a south-eastern suburb. Two or three years ago, on 22/8, a shopping complex was badly damaged in a 20 Million Dollar arson attack. (A bigger and better centre will open shortly).
In 2004, a house fire in the suburb of Hillcrest also had started in the driveway, in a wheelie bin, and spread into the roof. At the time I visited the scene and sent a letter to the TV Station, who had reported it. (As a point of interest, the same young lady, who had reported the Hillcrest fire, also reported this latest one at Henley Beach, except she had in the meantime changed TV Channels).
How weird: Hours ago I heard a similar name to hers on the radio News, commenting on the abortion issue. It was not Emma, but Eva, same surname. Deducting one from the other leaves MMV or 100010005.
I had heard the address of the Henley Beach blaze, Angus Court, on the news. With this bit of information I did some googling and came across an interesting name of a person, who lived in that street. Was this person the victim, I wondered? The name was so unreal, I questioned, if all this was a conspiracy by the Da Ninci family?
The evening of 19/12/06 was typical for Adelaide around Christmas - balmy, little wind and daylight until around 9 pm. Two days later would be the longest day of the year. What opportunity to take the car and bike for a little excursion?
I parked the Suzuki at the Shopping Centre on Tapleys Hill Road and cycled through the back streets and along North Street. I had spotted North Street on the map. It may be nothing, but a North Street, in a different suburb, was a street I had come across during the Kapunda Road Royal Commission.
In a funny, (but meaningless) twist - our youngest son Jon bought his first car ever at the end of November. He spotted it on the internet himself. The car a Honda Civic (what a WOW Da Ninci name!) cost him $ 1550.
The address he bought it from was 30 North Street. The other North Street is No.1.
So 301 is not too far fetched. Jon's registration No. is ...399, which I add up to 700. As I said, meaningless fun, unless ...?
The smell of smoke still hung very heavy in the warm evening air, as I swung my bike into Angus Court, a L-shaped dead-end street. There was much activity, which I had not expected. A clean-up crew, using a bobcat (Model No. S 185) was loading debris onto a huge semi-trailer, which took up almost all of the narrow road. A burned out car, a late model BMW, looked abandoned on the grass opposite the double storey, gutted mansion. The stone frontage appeared to be surprisingly intact.
Among the handful of onlookers I picked and elderly couple to have a brief chat with. They lived nearby. The white-haired gentleman expressed surprise that a clean-up was already in full swing. Like me, he had expected the area to be cordoned-off, perhaps for weeks. We agreed, the fire investigators must have finished their work, otherwise any signs as to the cause of the fire were being destroyed, as we looked on.
My James Da Ninci brain spotted a registration plate of a car parked opposite ... 315. But this no longer trigger an aha moment. The registration plate of the semi trailer, being loaded with debris from the burned house, caused a small aha-moment. My brain linked this number to an address in North Adelaide. Before the hour was out, there would be a big AHA moment, which also linked to this address.
Before leaving I took two photos of the scene. One of the house, and the other of the BMW. (The film is still in the camera). As I photographed the burned building, a bright pink object on the grey pavement stood out and caught my eye.
As soon as I recognized what it was, I made a connection, which made sense. It was a water pistol. After snapping the photo I saw a second one, in a slightly different colour, discarded on the front lawn of the house right next door.
I may be reading things into it here, but water pistols, have played a minor, yet weighty role in my story. Here is how I questioned one of Peter Liddy's accuser's victim impact statements (Book 2, Chapter 20):
Not only did he identify the man, but also that the boys were shooting him with water pistols. Has anybody ever tried to measure the length of the jetty and then check, if itís possible to differentiate a toy pistol from a water pistol or just a pretend pistol? How could this man say, watching from over 200 meters, that the boys were playing with water pistols?
- - - - - - -
Fire Henley Beach 19/12/06
- - - - - - -
My visit to Angus Court took no longer than ten minutes. Having no lights on my bicycle, I could not stay much longer anyway. But there was more. If it were just a simple as cycling back to the car and driving home, this chapter would be much shorter. As I do, I cycled back a different way I had come from, via Vivian Street.
Over the days, writing this chapter, I have passed Vivian Court Para Hills many times. I recall one of my earliest car crash experiences took place right on the corner Kesters Road, Vivian Court. (Book 2, Chapter 8).
I had not noticed many of the street names, before leaving, except North Street. I was a little surprised, when I saw Mitchell Street, another name I associated with a very early road death in my story. A moment later I read another name, on the corner of John Mitchell Reserve - Whilbey Street. Something was cooking, but who was the cook? (Read my surprise discovery under the picture below).
I can't recall, when I exactly checked the UBD street directory, but noticed another strange twist. My story on a number of occasions (the last being in Chapter 19 and 20)* had brought the number 1115 into the spot light. It was associated with a large bushfire, which happened on that date - 11/1/05.
(*plus the MMV less than 1/2 hour ago - on final editing)
When I checked Angus Ct in my street directory it happened to be on Map 115, Reference Q 11.
Henley Beach, South Australia
Angus Ct is on Map 115, Q11 - (opposite Henley High school) Does this not sound like a fiery, red hot number?
When I cycled past the sign Whibley Street, I had to stop and look again. Had I not just uploaded a story, where a similar name (Wilby) came up in a funny way?
I played my little game, crossing off duplicated letters - Whibley minus Wilby became - he.
I had a lot to think about. So I decided to not drive home immediately, but sit down in McDonald's Restaurant for a while, slowly eating a Chocolate Sundae. Being a Tuesday, the place was almost empty, except for a few teenagers walking in and out. One wore a jacket with the large letters Eagles on a jacket he was carrying. Another wore the number 7, very prominently on the back.
My mind pondered the number 7. In No. 7 Angus Court, two or three houses away from the fire, lived the person with the unusual foreign name, I had googled earlier that afternoon. Without compromising privacy I disclose this much - by only adding an E & S to this surname - it reads very plainly - die assassin. Now you may understand, why the water pistols made so much sense to me a moment earlier.
The mobile phone number of above is also rather suspect. By multiplying 2x3 = 6) I created 486 777. Had I indeed uncovered somebody's master plan? I do not know. What I do know, my Heavenly Father has the final say before any master plan gets the green light.
Had I finished the Chocolate Sundae and driven straight home, this chapter again would be shorter. But since I was in James Bond mode, I decided to make a little detour via John Street (not in Salisbury, but in the Western suburbs). I passed the house, where years earlier I had given an English man driving lessons and suspected a possible distribution point for marihuana, or another drug, to the UK.
No, I didn't knock on the door and ask, if I was right or wrong. Even though, as a possible crime solver, I often wondered, was I right or wrong in what I had observed and reported to Crime Stoppers?
Would it not have been basic courtesy of Crime Stoppers to give me a brief call: "Thanks for being vigilant and giving us the information, but no - it was not so".
Of course, even more satisfying would have been a message: "Thank you; you were correct. We have made arrests and laid charges". But to never ever hear anything in response, leaves me wondering still today.
Turning into Grange Road, driving east, on my right was a funeral parlour. The lights were on. There were people, both inside and in the court yard, having drinks. No funeral would be conducted at this hour (around 9 pm). It was an excuse to turn around and just have a brief look. It obviously was the staff Christmas Party, being held that Tuesday evening.
In an instant, even before I had turned around, my memory flashed back to Commercial Road, Salisbury ...
(Hey, another meaningless bit of co-incidental trivia - as I type, Jon's Honda, mentioned above, is having brake pads fitted in a place in Commercial Road, Salisbury. He chose the place last week and booked it in).
... a few months earlier (Chapter 14). I had passed a church, where a funeral was being prepared. I distinctly remember the name and address of the undertakers. It was this firm, the name sounded very much like L-berg. The location is right opposite a liqueur outlet.
There is a specific reason I mention this. To continue east I had to again do a U-Turn through the traffic island. It was tight, but my green machine made it, without having to reverse. As I turned I noticed two things; one, a sandwich board on the grass. It was a large advertisement, showing a green beer can. It looked familiar. I had only just uploaded a picture and a little anecdote to do with an identical can of beer, a Cooper Dr. Tims (Chapter 21).
Had I not spotted something else, at almost the same moment, I would not have stopped my Suzuki again. In the gutter lay something dark, small - a cap. Curiosity took over again. The cap looked in good condition and was not very dirty. After a quick flash photo of the Dr. Tim's poster, I casually walked the few steps, and the cap was mine. (Another cap in my feather?)
Looking back over my adventurous journey, I have collected a few, notable caps over the years:
1. *IN THE DRIVER'S SEAT - Sandown - March 03, the weekend of my first 'escape' to the US.
*Stop Press - How is this for a fitting link? Approx. 1/2 hour ago I have for the first time downloaded the software, and have started to listen to Sydney's 2 CH Easy listening radio station. The song they are playing right now, as I typed "IN THE DRIVER'S SEAT" - 10.02 am 1/1/07 - is Downtown.
Hey, what incredible co-incidence, their radio signal is 1170 - I didn't know - but someone did - I know WHO. I can't take any more ...!!!
2. 50 years Messenger 1951-2001. In early 2003 or so, I had attended a free business seminar. The facilitator rewarded me, the only one in the room to receive one, with a blue cap, which I recall wearing a few times during my US trip in 2003.
On this point allow an observation I had made during this trip, but have not yet reported. Surfing TV Channels in a motel room, I caught a segment of an interview. A lady stressed the point: "The messenger is not the master". If she was referring to Jesus - she did not know - HE is both - the message and the messenger.
3. BSTG - Sometime ago (in late 2005?) driving on Walkley's Road, I saw a hat on the opposite side of the road. It took a little googling before realizing it belonged to the Bridgestone Company. At the time I had found it strange that I found a hat, only one day after losing one, while bushwalking. With a small group from the German Club, we walked parts of the Heysen Trail. One locality we passed surprised me - 'World's End'.
The hat I had picked up that evening opposite the liqueur store has a logo embroidered - 9 and Today. I liked both the number 9 and the word Today - a program of Channel Nine.
The truck 1/2 hour earlier, being loaded with debris from the big fire, carried the rego plate ...202, the address of Channel 9 is 202 Tynte St.
Hey, I just saw it - Something suddenly makes sense. The last three letters of today backwards could read - Why a d? The nine also argues the case for the en in?
Something else would makes sense! The TV Station Peter Liddy was hoping to take to court was not Channel Nine. It was another Station. Channel Nine had only recently advertised their association with Crime Stoppers. (Previously I had only seen advertisements, linking Crime Stoppers with the other TV Station, the one Peter Liddy was hoping to take to court for false reporting.
The more I ponder, the more messages I read into what I see. The most positive message would be - TV Station No. 9, believes in EN in?
Should I be worried about my frank disclosures?
Adelaide is hot at present, I wouldn't mind being assassinated - with a water pistol.