7.   Miracles for us

But there was more. You can read this phrase many times in my chapters. Those who write a diary, as I have done for 40 years, reprocess the day's events. Why bother otherwise? Sometimes during this rethinking process I receive fresh insights and discover more.

Apart from writing diary, the second most common source for revelations are dreams, often just prior to waking, or so it seems. Thirdly, when I kneel in prayer regularly, in the early hours of the morning, I often visualize connections that I had not seen before. Often these are the most profound. 

After uploading the previous chapter I had a 'but there is more' moment, which I received during my early morning prayer. Alert readers may already have discovered what I saw -  the word enrol. In a fun email, in Chapter 6, I played with the letter L, pointing to the fact that a T (cross) really consists of 4 L. I titled that chapter Australia's amazing L's. (For    further amazing L incidents read on). 

During my prayer on 8/6/06 I saw the word enrol, the letters re-arranged, as leron. Leron, you may recall, is the name of the street, which intersects with Cross St. Enfield. On the morning of writing this first draft, a further thought came to me while sitting in church. Some alert readers may also already have decoded the word enrol. (Isn't it good that preachers don't know what their parishioners are really thinking, while nodding their heads, shouting Amen during their sermon?)

A different version of the street name Leron came to me. Scrambling and applying the 'minus R' code I arrived at - Noel.

Hey, on editing, I just discovered another interesting Da Ninci twist. Noel closes the circle. The word means Christmas. Backwards it makes Leon, No. 1 and L(ove) both could hardly describe God any better - L ONE. (All that from a street name in Enfield !).

- - - - - - -

 

A friend handed me a magazine the day after I published Chapter 6. (on 6/6/06). The small Christian booklet, called Facts of Faith, was (surprise, surprise) Issue June 06. Even more surprising to me was the word AMAZING on Page 6 of the same booklet. (Nobody worry about the 666's - I am not anti...)

Had I not finished chapter 6 with the word amazing? How peculiar to come across this piece of writing within 12 hours of my uploading Chapter 6.  

Naturally, I read the article a little closer and wondered, why the segment "Writing for Women" was about two men. The storyline was simple: One man stood in place of another, taking punishment for a crime he did not commit. 

The article quoted John 3, 16 and ended with John 15:13: "Greater love has no man than that he lay down his life for another."

 Just now, after scanning, I looked at the name of the author - Fragar. Applying my a to e code, it turns into Frager, which in German means, enquirer, one who asks questions (fragt).

(Read another interesting A/E exchange at the end of the chapter).  

- - - - - - -

 

On 12/6/06 I saw another twist in my story, one I had not seen before. It came, while pondering the T and L of the symbols I had created on my index page. In no way could I have thought this one up. It had to do with the unusual discovery about the postcode of Angaston (5353) and the number 44, which went with it. (Chapter 4). 

I had written in the previous chapter about the names of two of our close friends.  Here is what I had written:

"Very good friends have a short four-letter surname. Mixing the letters I can make TL Australia. Another couple, also good friends, are G NT Australia."

On that Monday, while my wife was briefly talking to one of them at their door, it came to me. One lived in house No. 53, the other in house No. 4. Even the street names are Da Ninci, let's leave it at that.

If we had dozens of addresses of close friends to choose from, these discoveries would be less remarkable. But there is only one or two more, we could call close friends. (One just came to mind, while writing; they live at No. 7 OA.....Dr.) 

- - - - - - -

 

On 6/6/06 a very timely article arrived in the mail. A publication marking "50 years Worldmission" issued by the VMeC, the Pentecostal Church I attended in my youth. 

On page 8, I noticed this photo. Karl, his wife on the left, 40 years ago in 1966, spent hours of his time, teaching me the trumpet. (If I had not done it back then - Danke, Karl).

 

 

VMeC stands for Volks-Mission entschiedener Christen. Entschieden means decided. A better translation here, perhaps, would be 'committed, devoted'.

The arrival of this magazine, sent by a old friend, could not have been more timely. It was only an hour or so, after unpacking, cleaning and playing my ancient Selmer trumpet for the first time in 3 years. 

Late in 05 I had felt to again start playing in a church, perhaps once a month. That day, when I finally made the move, it had been 9 years since I played the trumpet regularly in church. 

Karl's surname, if I used the s for 5 and i for 1 is also pure Da Ninci - PTL 15. 

But there's more - If I drop one letter, the surname of the Pastor, the youth leader of the VMcC I attended from 1964-69, reads as L Die.

- - - - - - - -

 

Listening to the news on radio on 6/6/06 I heard that a man was before the courts on sex charges. "The case is continuing in the Supreme Court", the item ended. At that point a thought arrived in the inbox of my brain - I may have a look at that. 

The next morning the thought about the court case, and of going into the city, would not leave me. The normal, easy option, staying home and recovering from the exhausting work the day before (editing and uploading chapter 6), was more inviting. 

The thought of going into town persisted all morning. In the early afternoon I stopped resisting and caught the 2.33 pm from Parafield, I took my bike on the train. It would be very pleasant, cycling home. (It was not only pleasant, but very much Da Ninci, read on). 

Wheeling my bike out of the station in Adelaide, I happened to meet friends, whom we had not seen in years. It so happened it was the elderly gentleman's birthday. Not a bad start I thought. All afternoon the ever present sensation and observations, seemed to confirm, I was meant to be here. (Seeing the flags, which had flown for a number of months now - You are here - helped fuel my thoughts in that direction). 

As I chained up my bike outside the Samuel Way building Taxi 55 parked right there. Taxi's registration plates very often made sense, matching specific occasions, dates or numbers on emails I had sent. On the notice board, inside the building, the District Court, I could not find the sex case listed, so decided to visit Court 5 for a while. 

In the short time I sat in and prayed silently, I understood it to be about the supply of illegal drugs. A barmaid, who had witnessed somebody being assaulted, gave evidence. The names Chris (please note!) Tony and Murray were mentioned and I entered them later into my diary. (I seldom made notes about observations, rather trusted God, if they were of significance, to bring them to my remembrance later.)

Approx. 15 minutes later I stood, quietly walked to the door, turned towards the judge and bowed, before leaving. I learned the little bow long ago, both from visits to Parliament and while entering and leaving courtrooms. (So far I am still waiting of anybody to acknowledge my humble gesture. Would the justice system fail, if I stopped bowing?) 

- - - - - - -

Cutout from mail advertising, sent by a convert? 

Leon fits so well into this chapter. He must be one of my 6 readers. Not only the name and the numbers point in this direction, choosing 'The end is near' as slogan is rather unique. 

This particular end (of the financial year) was yesterday. The other end? Only God knows.

- - - - - - -

 

(Back to the courts)

Which court should I visit next? Looking through the glass panel, Courtroom 8 was empty. I walked down the stairs and joined the public's benches in Courtroom 1 (goes better with 5, anyway). The moment I entered and bowed to the judge a man in black robe, blond wig was speaking. He spoke very, very slowly.

They do this for two reason, I think (but I may be wrong). One, professionals in law get paid by the hour and two, they speak slowly, so the stenographers can keep up with them.

During the first sentence, after entering Courtroom No.1, I heard the name Christopher. This I found interesting, to say the least. It reminded me of a previous visit to this building, only weeks earlier, when I cycled into the city to attend an Open Day in the same place. During a tour of the building, in the underground holding cells, the guide had shown, how the names and numbers of remand prisoners where recorded on a white board. He had used a real Da Ninci names and numbers! (I felt I was among friends in a place I least expected it).

Again, while quietly sitting in the public area, I silently prayed that justice would be done in this important building, where one lie or mistake could ruin the lives of innocent people for years or forever. I could not help thinking back, when Peter Liddy, wearing a black T-shirt, not saying a word, sat in the dock without a friend in the world, or so he thought, he wrote to me later. As I write, this was five years ago. Five years too long, if the man is innocent.

On leaving the grandiose foyer, the building had once been a department store, out of the corner of my eyes, in a flash of a picture, I saw the face of a man, through glass panels in an upper floor. It was a familiar face, either that of  the the Police Association President Peter Alexander or the Police Commissioner Mal Hyde. It was so quick, my diary mentions the names of both these people, I knew from TV News reports. Either way, my mind did not ignore this. Was there a message? If so, what was the meaning? More friends in high places?

- - - - - - - 

My diary on 7/9/01 - 4 (*see below) days before September 11! At the time I was still suffering from the breakdown I had had. My diary entries were not as detailed as they are today.

I am up every morning at 5.30 or so to pray, I just love God's presence.

I sat next to 'The Australian' reporter Carol Altmann, briefly chatted, I said I thought PL is innocent, Also told another journalist after + a taxi driver, I slipped a business card to the prison wardon, he assured me PL would get it, On the first hearing PL had no defence, I really felt sorry for him, guilty or not, After 1/2 hour break, the sentence was passed 25 yrs. 18 non parole,

*Hey, what magic -  It just came on editing - 79 goes into 316 exactly 4 times. (316 is the verse in the bible, the one where the L won).  But there is more, which I was not going to mention, but now I will - The original of the picture I had scanned into my hard drive co-incidentally size 777x361. 

These numbers spooked me. The night before writing, the date was 30/6 - my wife and I attended a monthly church gathering in the North Eastern suburbs. (We had only been there once before). On leaving home to drive there, the tripmeter read 177.7 - the odometer 200693 !!!

After the meeting, because of this number and because it was very close to Ward Street, I took Isobel to the spot, where I had arrived, under miraculous circumstances two years or so earlier, just as my odometer read 177 777.

 Last evening the odometer reading, seven kilometers away in Ward Street was 220700. The trip meter, I reset it at the church to measure how far the J (*see map below) was, read 000.7.

I had been a long time that we both drove to a dark street late at night and parked the car. I saw an opportunity to let my wife in on the magic. Sadly, she did not see it my way.

 Hey, now I see another magic - a van was parked right there opposite us. I read in large letters YWAM SA. I know that all this was planned, but Jesus, why me?

 

I could write a whole chapter, having fun with my Da Ninci code, on these streets surrounding Ward Street. This came out interestingly in many ways. The three large letters ST A, (St Agnes - Agnes in my mother-in-law's name) on the right. Ward Street runs into Dalaston, right at AST.  Can you see the cross, if we borrowed the W from Ward Street? 

 

 

The reference in the UBD is Map 84 L 16. It points to 486, so does the postcode of Ridgehaven - just deduct 1 off each digit. 

The 177 777 spot is at the W of Ward. The YWAM van was parked there, facing south. From the church in Shepherd St. it is exactly 700 meters, via Raymond/Go(r)man Street. The route form a large letter J.

But there is more - Looking up Chapter 40, I just read the date, when the previous magic took place in Ward St. It was 9/8/04. If the nine does a turn around, we're back to 486.

 I came across the 9 a few times on 30/6. The most surprising visit, totally unplanned until the last moment, because I had my radio tuned at the right time, was INNES St. Elizabeth Park. (As I got back into my vehicle afterwards, the digital clock (not set right) read 936. (Long story, little time).

 This number originated from my mother in-laws registration plate V... 963 on 26/12/03, which led me to Psalm 96, Verse 3: "Declare HIS glory among the nations, HIS wonders among all peoples. Via this website this is what I have been doing.  

Those who doubt a higher power is in control, please label me a genius for discovering all of this. But God showed me all this to let the world know: God hated the abortion pill RU 486 (and all abortion) from the moment the idea was conceived in some idiot's brainless head. 

- - - - - - -

One more distraction, while on the subject of abortion. A moment ago, (1/7/06, News radio, 5.55 pm) driving in the car to pick up my son from work, I heard a news item from South Dakota. As I understood it, plans are under way to outlaw abortion, even when the pregnancy was the result of rape or incest. The debate is creating a huge storm. 

Pro abortionists argue that the law is extreme. But consider these two points: One, pregnancy as a result of violent rape is extremely rare. (I heard this comment during the recent debate on RU 486 in Canberra). Two, if an exemption is allowed, so the law will not apply in case of rape, it creates a loophole. What will happen, woman may claim, they were forced by their husband/partner/boyfriend and it will be classed as 'rape'. 

This is what has happened in Australia. The loophole was not rape, however, but the mental health of the mother. As I understand it, a woman merely needs the consent of two doctor's to certify that the pregnancy will affect her mental health. This farce has led to virtual abortion on demand in Australia. It has become the hidden shame of our nation. 

May I encourage Christians everywhere to keep up the good fight, to keep standing up and speaking out, and calmly proclaim that there is a better way. Remember, when the light is turned on, darkness will disappear, without having to use force and fight it off. 

Pray for your local politicians that he or she will see that the teachings of Jesus, and the principles of the bible, are what is best for a nation. Following this, write a friendly letter or an email, letting them know what your honest thoughts are on these issues. 

- - - - - - -

 

(Back to Adelaide)

While in the city, I thought, why not pay a little visit to Parliament House on North Terrace? I had not been since the new Parliament opened after the March 18 Election. In the Lower House, the House of Assembly, the Independent Member for Fisher, Bob Such, was giving a speech. I am sure he understood was it was all about. A short time later I moved on for a brief visit and prayer to the Upper House, the Legislative Council. Again after about 15 minutes or so I left. (Like a short prayer, a little bit of parliament can go a long way).  

Walking to my bicycle I passed a man, chatting with another. His face was familiar. As I unchained my bike I considered for a moment talking to him. He was a businessman, involved in the Entrepneur's Training Course I did in 1999. He was the person, who had sent me the letter addressed to a complete different name. I had read a number of codes into it. (Chapter 34, Book 4, Wind).

I had no idea what I would say to this man, if I did speak to him. I didn't. Instead, remembering that his company's name starts with Bell, I purposely cycled closely past the two men and rang my bike's bell vigorously a few times. I wondered, if it rang a bell? 

For some exercise I cycled home, instead of crowding with my bike into the train during peak hour. As I waited at a red light, on the corner Regency/Prospect Roads, a public bus, a circle-line Route 100, drove by. The registration plate was number ...499. This number immediately took my mind to the picture in chapter 6, which I had uploaded only the night before. The furniture shown was priced at $ 4999. I was not far from the furniture store concerned, so why not ride home that way? 

(That morning, I had smiled to myself, as I read the huge sign writing on the side of a Rental Company's delivery van - R/R - NOW BIG IN FURNITURE).

 As I was cycling past the large furniture place, minutes later, I noticed a lady walking to her car. Was it my imagination or did she really wear a top, exactly the light green colour of the lounge/ottoman I had published into this my autobiography the night before? 

(During my visit to New Orleans, USA, during the French Quarter Festival in April 2005, I had taken a photo of a street performer, who wore exactly the same colours - Photo in  Chapter 42, Found).

Cycling north, less than a kilometer further, I crossed from the western side to the eastern side of Main North Road, near the velodrome. As silly as it sounds, despite many times saying to myself, it's not normal to pick up other people's trash from the ground, I did it again. Three objects, one after the other, jumped into my sphere of vision. My brain made a connection within seconds. I got off my bike to just see what I would find.

The first one was a large, blue piece of blue, packaging tape, almost identical to one I had picked up 15 months earlier in Melrose. It was also J-shaped. The other was a Classic Chocolate Milk container, the word Classic being the key word. 

But the most crazy of all was this dirty, flat yoghurt container, outside a nearby bus stop:

 

Passion for rubbish - passion fruit diet yogurt container, after I cleaned it up. 

Was I silly picking this up off the road? I felt even more silly, like a criminal, sneaking into the back door at home and washing it in the laundry tub. I was hoping none of the children or my wife would ask me, what are you doing? 

The thin foil cover (left) was pushed inside the container.  The use by date 11/5 is an interesting number Much happened that day in 2006. (Read the 11/5 story in the next chapter). 

Was there a code - IT in LA or Ai t = AI Cross? (Just as I write I see - nail. 

(Pa) ssionfr (uit) came out in an interesting way - Pa uit? In between isso ...  One could go on and read into it, whatever... 

If you are worried about something to do in old age, how about this: Write your life story. Get the bicycle out of your shed, fix the flat tyre and ride around the neighbourhood. Pick up any trash, which looks interesting, then sit down and write a story, fitting the items you pick off the streets into it. I guarantee you won't be bored, you will keep fit and it doesn't cost anything. 

- - - - - - -

It is unclear to me, if in this instance, the yoghurt container, an intelligent mind was behind it. If not, it is just occupational therapy for my code-filled brain to observe and play with. It will thwart off dementia (nice words thwart off)

My ears were also observing and playing games. On the day of writing (28/6/06) I had occasion to send an email to a radio station, simply because my ears picked up a vibe, a tiny clue, which I needed to offload. Something didn't make sense the night before. 

In between writing diary on the lounge and retiring for bed I had switched on my transistor radio. A man was being interviewed. He was talking about technology, sending and receiving emails. One unusual phrase (details in a moment) I picked up, which should have received a response, laughter perhaps, from the interviewer. But he left it hanging in the air. I made a point of listening to the techno-expert's name and remembered it the next morning. 

My reasoning was - Lord, if you want me to email this person, you must lead me to his address and show me, what to write. There was no point in trying to send an intelligent email, with a valid scientific question, because I had only been listening for a few minutes.

I did remember hearing parts of this scientific news item. A scientist claimed to have discovered that certain cells in our bodies are much younger than the rest. The average age of these younger cells is 15 1/2 years (Note 15.5!).

A few minutes of googling the person's name (Tim T),  I came across the American Immunology Journal. While I am here, why not send them an email? I thought. The intricacy of DNA, how it all works, still had not been explained to me by anybody. I took this opportunity to ask, if they could guide me to a URL, which would enlighten me on the subject in simple layman's terms. 

As I was about to continue searching, just before leaving the Immunology website, I noticed a number at the bottom of  their homepage. My brain had an Aha-moment, of which I experienced many (details in the PS below). I found an email address for Tim T, the science reporter I had heard on the radio, and send him the following message:

 

Date: 28/6/06

Subject: Email from God

Hi Tim,

While retiring to bed last evening I happened to listen for a few moments to the ABC. You made an interesting comment: "If you receive an email from God, you answer it straight away".

The radio host (was it Tony Delroy?) did not find the comment funny. Probably because he knows it is not true.

It would take the average Niall B. about a week to recover from shock. Another week he'd be emailing all his friends, 1550 of them, to ask if they thought the email was genuine or just a Nigerian Scam.

In the unlikely event that they all agreed, it was from God, would he really have the courage to sent an email to God, let alone do what HE wants him to do?

What if Niall were to get this message? - "I want you to write an article for the Immunology Journal of America. I want you to tell them that half of our cells in our body are much younger than the rest of our living corpses. Tell them the average age of these cells is 15 1/2years. Make sure you mention that you backed your findings with DNA technology.

(But don't tell anybody, I told you, otherwise no one will believe you). If you do this, your story will be in all the media all over the world and you will be admired in all."

So Tim, do you still think the average Niall B. really would answer an email from God so quickly?

Kind regards from Adelaide, wherever you are!

Dieter Fischer
PS  Have you ever seen an ISSN Number on the bottom of a URL?  This one appears at the bottom of ww.jimmunol.org/    

- Online ISSN: 1550-6606 - 

 

Niall B. was the name of a fellow scientist I plucked off the URL. I wonder why I picked him? 

I had never heard of an ISSN Number before. But there it was - 1550 - digitally very much like ISSO. Together with No. 6606 it looked interesting. I had uploaded Chapter 6 on 6606. 

Only God knows, if once again I had been on a trail of numbers, which I was meant to be on. In any case, if the message in my email make the recipients think about God, good. My whole effort, the hours spent online, recording my strange journey, is all to draw attention to HIM, HIS work, HIS will. If we take HIM seriously, HE certainly will take us seriously, and communicate with us in surprising ways. 

- - - - - - -

 

There are two stories below, each one a numbers co-incident, relating to the odometer of my Suzuki. 

 

On Sunday 18/6/06 I drove along Kesters Road, Para Hills West. Why, I can't recall, but I looked at the odometer on my Suzuki. It read 220 048. Passing the parked vehicles above I saw registration plate ...024, while right opposite was a stationary vehicle, registration plate ...208. 

The way the numbers matched up spooked me. I did a U-Turn. (It was right near the spot, No. 65 Kesters Road, where I had reported on a fatal crash, very early in my supernatural experience (Mind, Chapter 6). There were people sitting inside the ...208 Wagon, so I parked just ahead of them. 

As soon as I had I pulled into the kerbside, they were pulling away and doing a U-Turn at the next ... (Aha, the name of the road is Ceafield Rd. that makes sense). The station wagon was coming back in my direction, so I got the camera out real fast. I was just in time to snatch above photograph. (In my haste I forgot to use the zoom - you have to trust me on the numbers, which I only slightly changed for privacy.)

Underneath above photo is an invoice for brake repairs on my Wagon R+. It had been into the "Royal Mechanic's workshop' the day after I took above photo. (The date on the invoice is incorrect, it should read 19/6/06). 

Why the fuss? By sheer fluke, the digits of my registration number...228 matched the odometer reading 220080.

- - - - - - -

 

On TV a day before writing this, two steel company names were mentioned in the business news. Was it God showing me, was it the numbers I saw, I don't know, but I sensed that there was a message. I thought: "What if I combined the two names - One Steel and Smorgan Steel - and see what is brings?" The news was about the merger of these two companies. 

Onesteel had already been the subject of a little magic in a previous chapter (Mind, Chapter 38 - I just read the chapter and am amazed, how long ago my supernatural mind has been operating in its unorthodox fashion). 

Read in this extract from the Chapter what I had discovered in 2004:

Many months later on 18/8/04, as I drove along the main road nearby, I felt urged to again visit the scene of the ‘city cross near collision’ in Alicia Street. Inside me something seemed to say - there is a link in the address of the Nursing Home. I found out that morning that the entrance to ‘The Grove’ was not in Alicia, but via Lennox St. (L&N on cross). The actual entrance to the nursing home was still not Lennox St. Another short street, the actual address of the premises, lead to the nursing home. I decided to pay a brief visit.

(End extract)

The name of this little road, it goes on to say, was 1 Steele (Onesteel) Street. Even back then, my experiences pointed to the cross, the L on the cross, God's son on the cross.

Now, two years later, Onesteel came to the fore again. This time together with Smorgan Steel. Combining the two words One & Smorgan, I came up with: Sag more on n. (sag means say in German). My interpretation of the message meant: Someone likes me to say more on my n story, the one about the possibly innocent man in jail. OK then. 

What I have to report on this matter is not very encouraging - on the surface, humanly speaking. I had sent a copy of a letter (see Chapter 6) to 19 different clergyman, inviting them to hear me on an innocent man in jail. One was polite enough to send an answer (he passed the letter on). The other 18 answered with silence. Here is a list of ... (just kidding). No heroes among that lot. (If I can't use the word lot, writing about men of the clergy, who can I call Lovers of Truth?)

On June 15th 06 it was one year since I had appeared before the Kapunda Road Royal Commission. I marked the day with an excursion to Kapunda, to see what I would find.

 

Map Kernow, the name of the 7metre high statue just south of Kapunda, can be translated as "Son of Cornwall". In early June 06 an arson attack was reported. It damaged the monument so badly, it will have to be rebuilt. The statue acknowledges the Cornish miners who contributed to the establishment of Australia's first commercial mining venture in 1844.

(A big name in Kapunda is Kidman. (At the time of writing the name is also in the news, together with another good name, Urban - Nicole and Keith had just been married in Manly, Sydney's seaside suburb. 

KERNOW starts with Kern. This rings a bell in all who communicate with me. Reading Kernow backwards feels good too - won...  

Above on the right is another map, a real map -  it shows the area between the Barossa Valley and Kapunda, called Light Region. The world famous TV Series McLeod's Daughter's is filmed here.

North of Kapunda is Allendale North, to the south is Freeling. Eugene McGee, the centre of the Kapunda Road Royal Commission, was drinking at Allendale North, before killing the cyclist near Freeling on 30/11/03, in an alleged hit-run crash. 

By co-incident, as I passed the spot, a motorist had been pulled over by a police car, blue/red lights flashing. Why did I feel a sense of comfort, seeing a motorist pulled over and checked by police? It was not only the driving instructor in me, the detective in me liked it too. 

          

I parked my car at the statue of the Cornish miner and took a photo. I left my Suzuki there and cycled the short distance into Kapunda proper. Where should I go? I was hoping to find people, willing to give some answers, regarding their famous, better described as infamous, ex-citizen now in jail in Adelaide.

My first stop was the Salvation Army Thrift Shop. An elderly lady, a little vague about it all, agreed with me, perhaps an injustice had occurred. But as often, when I mention this fact, religious people shrug it off with comments such as: "It's a cruel world" or "we know who rules in the world" (meaning the devil) or "justice may have to wait until eternity". Whenever I hear one of these evasive comments, I feel like a door was being slammed in my face.

I knocked on the door of a neighbour of 5 Cameron Street, the ex-mansion of Peter Liddy. A female voice told me, through a screen door, that they used to be good friends with Peter Liddy, visiting each others places often. What happened happened and we can't do anything about it and I'd rather not talk about it, thank you, was her final comment, or words to that effect.

I visited the church Peter Liddy had been a member of. The letterbox of the house next to the church carried the letters - ECTORY. Yes, the R was missing. A nice lady answered the door. We held a short conversation, nothing of real significance, which would bring me closer to the man I was trying to help. The Parish Priest was not in his office. The friendly lady told me, he would not know anything anyway about Peter Liddy. He had only been there a short time.

Would I find anybody in this town, who knows more and was willing to talk to me? Two grey-haired men, doing repair work in the Senior Citizen's Club, did not divulge much either. But I knew there were folks around, supporting me and my theory. Some had read my writing online. How could I tell? 

One big clue I had seen, as I cycled from the Salvation Army Thrift shop to the ectory (sic). Two streets before I turned into Christ Church Street, I saw one lady in the driver's seat of a parked vehicle; the other was leaning into the window, talking to her. Both wore lavender coloured clothing. (Writing about it now, a thought came - why did I not stop and talk to them? It did not occur to me at the time).   

A little later, how could I miss it, I saw a parked 4WD (I think it was a Nissan Pathfinder. definitely not a Pajero, registration plate ... 486. I left a bookmark with my name and contact numbers, on the windscreen. It was identical to the one shown here; very appropriate in more ways than one:

 

 

The Lord has indeed worked miracles for us.

 I had obtained some of these bookmarks at the LLL shop in North Adelaide and used it as a kind of business card. God is in the miracles business, isn't HE?

Note the very appropriate (KRRC) scripture reference: Psalm 126, Verse 3. But there was more. A moment later, just before cycling back to my car to drive home, I noticed something on the ground beside a low wire fence. It may have been placed, just for me, as a boost - two round pieces of tape; round as in the shape of O.  

 

Another surprise appeared in the sky above Kapunda; something I had never seen. Cycling north on the Main Road, on that cloudless morning of June 15.06, (Hey 1550 plus 1... forget it) I looked into the sky and saw vapor, created by a jet aircraft. During my USA Trip II I had seen and photographed jet vapors in the sky (above Tustin, California, Book 4, Wind, Chapter 9). The trails of those vapors had been straight. I had seen them forming the letter Y.

The vapor trail in Kapunda that morning was not straight, but curved. The aircraft must have made a turn to create this huge letter U. I got off my bicycle quickly and took a photo, just incase the spectacle disappeared.

What came next, ten days later, even my wife found puzzling. One of the photos developed in the same film was spoiled by a large, white, half-round streak. It covered  half the photo. Tilted 90 degrees clockwise, it formed the letter U, or when viewed as mirror image, made the letter C. Here are both photos:

 

 

Until my visit to Kapunda I had never seen a jet-vapor, which turned around. In the spoiled photo, my son Ben and his partner Liz are shown strolling arm in arm in Stirling, an Adelaide suburb with a European flavour.

What do I read into it? If the vapor was meant to be the letter U - should I turn back from investigating Kapunda and its scandals surrounding it?

Was the letter a C, to tell me they see what I see? In conjunction with the Y it could mean - Why you see?

What about a message in the photo on the right? Has the U or C been placed on the leave s (sic) on purpose? Autumn leaves in the Adelaide Hills are a feature every year, delighting visitors. I bet there are not many, who read a message from the developers into the prints they pick up?

(But then again, I don't think there are many airline pilots, who turn their plane around in mid air, because they forgot something.)

 

If the Liddy case was to re-open, the first item to check would be the membership records of the Brighton Surf Life Saving Club. The accusers of Liddy would need to be traced to the Club at the right time in the 1980's, when Peter was a Nipper's leader. At least one victim, so I discovered online, had his facts about the location of the Clubhouse badly mixed up. This made me think, if that man ever was a member at the Brighton Surf Life Saving Club.  

Months ago I had made enquiries, following this line of thinking (Wind Chapter 32). It did not lead anywhere. Perhaps I should have another try? What if I proved, black and white, that Peter Liddy was framed, that he was telling the truth? Would any journalist listen and be allowed to publish the truth? Wouldn't that be interesting to find out? 

I think that God Himself, the supernatural power, the one I am praying to constantly, will bring justice in the end. When HE starts something, HE will finish it. 

- - - - - - - -

 

On the morning of writing, during my prayer, two unusual thoughts entered my realm of thinking. Firstly I saw that my Da Ninci code, among others, includes the letter A, amalgamated with each of the other vowels in the alphabet - EIOU. 

 AO - God, the alpha and omega,

 AI - A1, the road in Enfield, AI had featured in Book 2. 

AU - the web-abbreviation for Australia, used in our friends' names.

EA - the  unusual EA-Games experience in the USA (plus seaspray/sees pray etc).

 

The second thought, God was playing an EA game, went something like this: My story about codes started with two registration plates, the cars we owned at the time - 228 and 301. Over a period I discovered, and saw the similarity, that the scripture in the bible, Joel 2, 28 is identical to Chapter 3, Verse 1 in the German Bible. This was one of the earliest numbers co-incidences I came across, which would not let go. 

The scripture in Joel reads: "I will pour out my Spirit upon all flesh".

I don't know, what the experts think. But the concept of God's Spirit being spread around the world in all flesh (animal and human alike?) sounds strange. Is there another line of thinking, which makes more sense of the words all flesh?

The thought came to me this morning that the animations on my driving-school website are made in a program that can change the pictures on the screen in the twinkling of an eye. 

What would make sense to me is this: If people the world over were pressing the PLAY button on my driving-school website, they would be clicking through to the end of the roadmap, arriving at

JESUS - Give HIM your ALL. 

This program is called FLASH.

 

Chapter 8

Index