THE WINNER GAVE IT ALL GIVEN YOUR ALL - NOW WHAT ? HOME ISBN 0 9577 426 7 3 CHAPTER 9 Written/published 8/8/08-14/8/08
9. No regrets C A D
At the time of writing the largest television audience ever, one report mentioned 4 billion expected viewers, is watching the opening of the Olympic Games in Peking. (Later I heard a more realistic figure of 1 Billion). Peking is not a misspelling. It's the German spelling. Not only my German, but my driving-instructor (coaching clients to obtain P's) is having it his way.
(Those who recall I was a bet-wetter until well into my teens are also allowed to smile).
My dairy for the whole month of August 2000, another Olympic year, consisted of one single page of writing. If I would nominate one month as the worst of my life - 8/2000 tops the list. I had just, for the second time, come through a period of detainment in a mental institution. Life once again had collapsed around me.
The depression my psychiatrist predicted hit with cyclonic force. To be told I was suffering from an incurable illness (bi-polar disorder) and would be needing medication for the rest of my life was the last thing I wanted to hear.
But thanks been to God, after the storm the son shines once again. Life's storms refine, like a fire. We learn lessons. Looking at my life today I never would have dreamt the way IT ALL changed.
One lesson I learned at that time was this: Medical experts can get it wrong.
I have since found out that other professionals, despite the huge rates they demand for their services, can also get it terribly wrong - legal experts.
On the day before writing I visited the Para Hills Library to return some videos I had borrowed. I exchanged them for a new batch to watch. I love watching documentaries of foreign lands, the scenery, the people, their history. I had not borrowed any books from the library for a long time. Enough reading matter piles up on the P/C's inbox or arrives in the letterbox. Not all can possibly be read all the time.
However, yesterday somehow, I was drawn to just borrow a book and read it. (I was suffering from a slightly injured back, so needed lots of rest). What would I like to read, I thought, as I walked among the shelfs of our very modern library?
In the crime section a book title caught my eye: Meaner than Fiction: Powerful Australian True Crime Stories of Failed Justice. The title jumped into my face. So did the name of the main author Lindy Cameron.
The name Lindy, very early in my strange swap-the-letter game, created Liddy, using the letters ND (please note). Likewise the name Cameron had played a major role in a story or two in earlier books.
In the afternoon I almost finished reading half of the 218-page book, which was published in 2007 by Five Mile Press.
Back cover of Meaner than Fiction: The Five Mile Press Logo
What caused me to scan this logo? Not the Highway* ...
*Stop Press - the second I wrote Highway, in the background it was spoken on the traffic report on ABC Newsradio ...
5 or Design Works. I recalled a scan in the previous chapter: On the 5th anniversary ... 2 trees!
Having myself witnessed and exposed a few cases of failed justice, I devoured the well-written pages with some speed. At the bottom of page 65 I noticed a sentence: "He thought he looked so much better, but that could have been the E".
What on earth was the E? I checked back, if I had missed this bit of info on earlier pages. Not so. For the moment I just ignored the hunch. A few pages later, after another spelling error, I sensed something fishy was going on. Perhaps the page number 65, which had magically featured in Book 2, Chapter 10, made me go back and take another look.
To explain what E could have meant, I must re-cap the story, starting on page 59 in Meaner than Fiction:
A young man rented an upmarket apartment on Queensland's Gold Coast. He lived in an upstairs luxury suite and divided the living area, fitted its own bathroom. to sub-let it. The third bedroom also had its own bathroom. The man advertised for flat-mates - females preferred!
Over a period of years he shared this rented apartment with many unsuspecting young ladies. What these unfortunate girls didn't know that the whole place was full of spy cameras. Their every move, including toilet/bathroom and bedroom activities (during boyfriends' visits) was being watched by big brother upstairs.
A trickle of a thought during writing: Had I not very early in my story emailed a journalist, Ms. Altmann, and told her that God sees behind the doors of locked bedroom windows ... ?
As his game progressed his appetite grew. He would find an excuse to evict his victims and replace it with new stock! This proved to be his downfall. Somebody questioned, why so many females were coming and going. They called the police, who suspected an illegal bordello.
Unfortunately, after being caught and taken to court, the judge could not find a law against this despicable act of intrusion of privacy. The culprit got away with a $ 1000 fine for wilful damage to property. He did not even apologise to any of his victims, of whom there were many.
Laws thankfully have finally caught up. Under the news laws the culprit would spend two years behind bars.
One comment: Above incident, after the man started to display paranoid behaviour, could have resulted in the death of one of these girls. Why anybody would want to move into the same apartment with a total stranger from the opposite sex, is beyond my understanding.
Society's liberal thinking - there is no difference, if a man shares a flat with a man or female - ignores basic human instinct. Sorry, folks, there is a difference between male and female and how each views the other!
Or is it that males are embarrassed to move in with another male, as not to give the impression they have gay relationship? Modern society really got themselves into a mess!
Cover - Meaner than Fiction
Days after reading this book two codes registered on my brain:
M - F1 = Melbourne's F 1 Motel (Book 1, Ch. 64 )
than = nt & it
(The possibilities are many)
Meaner than Fiction - P. 65 (Scanned by No. 99)
The main author of Meaner than Fiction, Linda Cameron, is linked to a group of Melbourne-based female authors, all of whom are writing crime fiction.
I trust that the word True (see above front cover) means just that - true. The true is right between the letters C T. Don't you love IT?
Meaner than Fiction contains a whole chapter on perceived injustices in South Australia. The chapter ends on Page 166 with:
"But when the experts get it wrong, who is going to stand up and shout that an injustice has occurred? One thing seems certain: South Australia has got some explaining to do."
The comment on page 65 was by one unfortunate victim, who had offered to put make up onto the man's scars, because he felt self-conscious. "He thought he looked so much better, but that could have been the E".
The E, I figured, either stands for a) Ego or b) End.
a) He looked so much better (with the make-up) ... but that could have been the ego.
b) He looked so much better, but that could have been the end (of the matter).
Looking at the letters of both versions results in GO ND.
But there was more. Almost mechanically I started counting the place, from the bottom of the page, where the E was located - right on the 9th line, the 9th word. (Don't you love IT, in Chapter 9?)
The ND was the reason to count from the bottom of the page, from the End.
- - - - - -
My wife occasionally buys the Advertiser Newspaper. She pointed out to me a small item about an imprisoned sex offender aged in his early 60's. Fresh charges were laid against this man, who already was serving a lengthy jail term. I immediately thought of Peter Liddy.
I phoned Mrs. Liddy, his mother, if this was about Peter or not. She didn't know. (Sadly, her prisoner son is keeping much of his suffering from his elderly mother, as to not cause her hardship. He also instructs her to not do anything, without his knowing and/or his approval.)
During our conversation, however, a new bit of information came up. It fitted into the awful theory that corrupt detectives were behind Peter's downfall. It stirred me. I had to tell someone. I emailed the only source, who I knew was taking my thoughts seriously in such matters, my UK contact Kathy. (I had met her in London in April 07 - Book 6, Chapter 5).
My wife showed me a small item in the newspaper. A paedophile serving a long jail term was made to appear in the Christies Beach Magistrate's Court facing 40 years-old sex charges. By the age of the man it could be Peter Liddy.
I phoned his mother, which I do once in a while (1 month or so). She didn't know if this was Peter. He does not receive all his mail, corruption reaches right into prison walls.
For the first time she told me the following little tale. Before his arrest Peter was interviewed at home by detectives. In conversation Peter mentioned a small explosion, which had occurred across the street from them. The detectives replied: "We're here to talk about your antique guns, not the explosion in the bin a cross the road."
Peter had not mentioned a word about a bin. How did the detectives know this detail? Mrs. Liddy had before told me that the detectives were the only ones, who knew how to circumvent the security system in the Kapunda mansion. A valuable collection of (Mrs. L or I can't recall what) was stolen from a room, secured by a complex code. Only the detectives knew this code.
Doesn't it point to it, M - blind Freddy can put two and two together - Peter who is serving innocently in jail, could well have been put there by corrupt detectives, in conjunction with criminals?
I pray every day that justice will be done. If those responsible for the evil they did, and possibly still do, would know what awaits them, they would run to God and beg HIM for forgiveness. They would turn their corrupt lives from the big C (corruption) via the big R (repentence) to the big F (faith).
That's the only way to experience the real big H (happiness).
Enjoy your summer, freezing over here, but our mighty Murray is dying.
PS Something else Mrs. L told me - Peter once put a senior police officer behind bars. That big C officer had found a crop of drugs and instead of destroying it - he sold it. My mate Dave, quite possibly, 30 years ago, may have been the policemen's customer. Dave over a periode of 18 months or so bought his supplies straight from the boot of the police officer's police vechicle.
(Colours added for this writing only)
In my excitement I had forgotten to mention to Kathy the significance of the explosion across the road from the Liddy residence. (This was in Gawler, not in Kapunda, where Mr. Liddy later bought his mansion). A lawyer and friend of Mr. Liddy lived right across the road from them. The gentleman had believed (and possibly spoken out) for his friend.
A small explosion in a bin outside your friend's house would just be the kind of scare tactic cowards would engage in to shut up a voice speaking out for a friend. Another supporter, who testified in court for Peter, later had his house broken into. He told me personally, he suspects detectives were responsible.
What did they threaten the social worker with, the lady who held the vital information, which would have proved Peter's main accuser, a convicted criminal, had lied about abuse? The lady, who had worked for the Government Department of Community Services, backed away at the last moment.
South Australia has a lot of explaining to do!
- - - - - - -
The Advertiser - Front Page 26/7/08
Text: The gaping hole in the fu ...(selage)
Headline: JUMBO TERROR. A Qantas Jet lost part of its fuselage in mid-air. Luckily, the pilot knew how to handle the dilemma and was able to make a safe landing in Man.ila.
Under HSB are two tiny words - This work ...
If 'this works' refers to the U.Turn J.esus urges all to do - IT worked. Jesus never meant to inspire terror - only awe!
IT fills me likewise with awe as I found in my diary a reference to a car registration plate ..UJ 079 on July 9th. I had by fluke parked behind the vehicle in John Street, Salisbury (I was visiting the Library to borrow DER SPIEGEL).
That morning I had woken real early, by mistake. The alarm was not meant to go off at 4.10 AM. I rose, because I knew at that time US programs were broadcast. One news item I caught was about a plane mishap. The commentator's words, for some reason, were also shown on the screen as text. Right at the end of the news item, if I remember correctly, the two did not match. The word area was spoken, but the text on the screen read cone.
Such discrepancies have always bothered me. Not that I was a perfectionist, rather I felt it could be a test - does God see it all? This thought only grew stronger as I kept watching US TV. Shortly afterwards, on the Early Show or Good Morning America, a gentleman was interviewed, a celebrity lawyer. His name popped on the screen as .... Cohen. How similar is cone to Cohen, I thought? It's just a matter of H, isn't H it?
Having risen this early and let my mind play the game, I emailed NBC.com later that morning. For a fleeting moment, before emailing, I saw in my 'sent item' folder that I had in December 07 also emailed NBC. The subject line, how strange, had been: Nine not Seven. (Remember, I made this discovery on July 9th or 7/9).
What I emailed NBC.com on that day July 9th may sound a little incoherent. The main factors, which dominated my thinking, were the words are(a) and (c)one. God No.1 saw the word are long ago, just as HE sees everything that happens under the sun:
Hi all,On your News (here in Adelaide Australia at 4.20 am, Channel 7) I had just switched over to your show, when you screened an airplane tilting back and forth. Next, I saw the text that the commentator spoke. You must be doing this for deaf people.The last word sentence spoken was area. The text screened the word area (of the airplane, where ca.ble's are), not cone!As I find with news, usually the text is spoken so fast, the average brain would not pick it up. Neither would not many pick up what I spotted after switching stations to another US TV Show (Early Show or GMA).Christ.ie Brinkley's not-at-all tearful model attorney has cone in his name: Cohen.It you don't get H = IT don't worry. The French people have trouble with the H also.Kind regards from Adelaide, AustraliaDieter Fischer
PS 24PS 1 - Normally after going to sleep at midnight I don't wake at 4.10 am. This morning I did - the alarm went off by mistake.PS2 - PS24 stands for Psalm 2, Verse 4 - It speaks of God laughing. Those who love God, love and laugh with HIM.
- - - - - - -
H-No. catalogue - Wall clocks
Numbers come to me, I don't search for them. Browsing through furniture in a catalogue I noticed the time on these two clocks were identical - but why 8.22?
Only after scanning did I notice the Elliott model (L...ot) is L (50) Dollars cheaper than the English Watchmaker model.
On editing I just noticed: "Clock above right" is actually wrong. The hour hand is too far advanced!
A little more probing showed all clocks at 8.22, except one at 10.05, plus a small clock shows 2 o'clock. (20.10?).
- - - - - - -
The ABC TV every month broadcasts a 1/2 hour program, usually on the first Tuesday. Hence the very original name - First Tuesday Book Club. Each month two selected books are discussed by the host J.B. and her panel. Sometimes there are guests on the panel. How these are chosen I do not know. The only requirement, I think, is that they can read.
It may help, if you once held the position of Premier of New South Wales. (One assumes from this that the person actually can read). On Tuesday 1/7/08 the special guest was Bob Carr, whose name, isn't it so in the face, has one R too many.
Now, it so happened I drive Suzuki Wagon R+. This is how the fun started and caught momentum. The extra R fitted perfectly into the picture, which my simple mind suddenly came up with as I watched the Book Club program.
It actually had started just prior to the First Tuesday Book Club, during a program called Foreign Correspondent. Concluding this program, which was about the city of Paris, a few bars of a famous song were sung by Edith Piaf.
Non, Je Ne Regrette Rien ... (Translated: No Regrets).
Apart from the first two words, no regrets, I didn't understand any of Edith Piaf's famous French song. The lyrics, however, could not any better describe how I feel about my long, adventurous journey:
No! No regrets
No! I will have no regrets
All the things
That went wrong
For at last I have learned to be strong
No! No regrets
No! I will have no regrets
For the grief doesn't last
It is gone
I've forgotten the past
And the memories I had
I no longer desire
Both the good and the bad
I have flung in a fire
And I feel in my heart
That the seed has been sown
It is something quite new
It's like nothing I've known
No! No regrets
No! I will have no regrets
For the seed that is new
It's the love that is growing for you.
Non, it's not a religious song. Still, does it not describe perfectly a life that overcame, a lesson learned from mistakes, a wrong deed forgiven, a seed for a new life sown - a life of love?
No regrets flung past memories in a fire. Fire is powerful. Fire purifies.
Seven words describe GOD in the Book of Hebrews:
"For our God is a consuming fire" (Heb. 12, 29).
I can't possibly tell how it happened, but suddenly I noticed the name of a panel member on the First Tuesday Book Club: Steger. My outside the box mind, no, it was inspiration, simply took the leftover R (from ex-Premier Carr) and placed it right in the centre of Steger:
Read backwards, voila - REGRETS ! Edith very aptly was called the sparrow of Paris.
One month later on 5/8, again on the same show, the First Tuesday Book Club, for a fleeting moment Mr. Steger showed a book he had read. My diary only noted two words, the author's name and the way it was printed on the front cover:
(The zero seems to be going round in circles!)
I can't recall the title of the book Mr. Steger showed. It may well have been Tin Toys. It would fit Mr. Cameron perfectly in my NT story...
... Hey, I just noticed this - the word toys only takes an R and a shake to create - story. (But Mr. Carr has no R left to lend; Mr. Torres perhaps?)
That day my diary ends with: My life is moving to a higher level ...
Plus, I made some extra income from cycling. No, I didn't win a bike race, certainly not the Tour de France. Before telling you about the extra income from cycling, please take a look at this.
(Please note, the incident happened months before I even thought of the title of this book).
LOOK - Bike Shirt - WONDER
C A D ?
The signature is that of Cadel Evans, two times runner up of the Tour de France. He especially visited Adelaide in January 08, not to race, but to support our international acclaimed cycling event, the Tour Down Under.
When I queued up in the Tour village, outside the Hilton Hotel, to obtain above autograph, I asked the champion one of the dumbest questions ever.
He had already signed his name (above Wonder) when I said: "Would you put on the number 23. Remember, you came second with only 23 seconds behind?" He said: "Will I ever?"
In this year's Tour de France history was repeating itself. Cad.el Evans again came second. What teased my 3/5 numbers brain: In this year's Le Tour, Evans was 23 + 35 seconds behind - 58 seconds. Love IT.
I only recalled above incident during prayer on the day of writing. (Yes friends, it's OK if the mind wonders during prayer). After rising from my knees I switched on the radio. The first words spoken on ABC Newsradio: "... American Swimmer Michael Phelps, the 23 year old ..."
If I ever get a chance to ask this mega-star for his autograph, I shall ask him to put the number 23 underneath it. That will confuse him. (Unless he wins another 14 Olympic medals by then).
- - - - - - -
Here is my extra income, picked up while cycling:
Non cyclist must realize that when you're in the saddle your normal position is looking down on the roadway. Finding coins is not unusual. The place where I found them was.
Left: Five cents at the corner The Strand/Park Terrace, Salisbury. (I had an encounter at The Strand, wearing a T-shirt The Stand).
Right: Ten cents on Hamstead Road, Clearview. (Read on).
Only three weeks prior to the above encounter with the ABC I actually visited the ABC building in Collinswood. On previous occasions I had visited there to drop my whistle-blower's letters. On June 10 I went there to lodge the application to the Guardianship Board, located in the same building (see Chapter 7).
On leaving, unlocking my bike, I exchanged a few words with the presenter of the evening show, Peter G. The actor, turned radio show host, was having a puff outside the reception area. There is a big debate among ABC staff, what contributes more to global warming - Peter's ancient Volvo or his cigarettes.
He was not in talkative mood that afternoon. I missed the opportunity to ask him, how well he sleeps at night and to pass on my regards to Mrs. Calabash. (Peter says Good-night to the lady after every show, wherever she is. If he were to just look at the first four letters of this name he could see where she is - LA California. Elementary Da Ninci!
This was the day, when I cycled, for some unexplained reason, via Enfield's back streets*
* just as I typed this, on editing - it's almost if my writing is being monitored, the traffic report on ABC 891 mentioned Hamstead Road, Clearview).
and took the photo of the dove above the A-Z Truck. (Chapter 4).
Something else happened on the way home. Because the wind was against me, I decided to cycle home via Hamstead/Briens/Bridge Roads. I figured that traffic travelling in the same direction would create some air flow, which would minimize the headwind. I very seldom cycled on that busy road.
My eyes caught something, round and silver. If it's round and silver and looks like a coin, it probably is a coin. Various factors made me stop, turn back and pick it up. The initial one was the fact it was a 10 cent coin (two empty bottles, read on!) and the date was the 10th.
Big deal, I hear you think. But wait, that wasn't all. I looked at the time on my watch. It was exactly 3.08 PM. The 10 completed a magic number.
The location is also famous in my very early writing. In Book 1, Chapter 23, called Accidental Prophet, I had bought a lottery ticket right there, testing if God wanted me to win $ 5000. The small Deli has long closed. The memories remain, without regrets.
My ride home took me through Liberman Road, just around the corner from our place. There is a close connection between the shop and this street. I know from walking my dog. Cycling home in Liberman Road, plus later that evening, things just happened, weird things. So wild, in fact, I sent the radio show host Peter, the one I had exchanged a few words with that afternoon, an email that evening. Here is part of the story:
I only live around the corner and I cycled along that road about 3.35 PM, when I found a letter on the roadway. It must have been taken from a letterbox and scattered. The address on it was ... Liberman Rd. But the name was even more interesting - D.... Collins.
Not only I had I been to Collins.wood 1/2 hour earlier, the name D.... popped up on your evening show tonight. I was writing my diary when your guest Geoff D... spoke the word D.... (Bowie). At the same second I was writing the word D... into my diary. Weird, but it happens very often, that I write a word and hear it at the same second. I never found out, if this phenomena happens to others or do you need a special talent to notice?
What is so weird about this weird phenomena is the strange, supernatural way it was introduced into my sphere of awareness. Here is a paragraph from my first book (just to refresh reader's memories):
(Hey, I just noticed for the first time - reading backwards - 5 1 1 ... 1 1 1 3):
My new notebook (diary) started off in November 2001 with another co-incidence: “At 11.50 am on 31/10/01 I was writing on my novel. In the chapter on Pete’s hospitalization (first Glenside) I typed the words “supernatural powers” into the computer. Right then, the very same moment, the two words “supernatural powers” were spoken on EBI FM 103.1 Radio. I feel God is working a great miracle in me. Please Lord, make me humble to contain your blessings”.
(The novel remains unfinished - truth can be meaner than fiction).
- - - - - - -
On July 4th - Independence Day in USA - ABC 891 Radio station was broadcasting their breakfast program from Adelaide's Hutt Street Homeless Shelter. Hutt Street holds a special place in my writing. (Code 1550 was born there).
Being the middle of winter, plus I had to start my voluntary work at 8.30 AM, driving disabled people, I initially resisted the inner urge to just roll up for a sticky beak. (Sticky beak is slang for putting your nose forward to have a look. I do have a long thin nose - call it beak, if you must).
A little reluctantly I roused myself and took my green machine (Suzuki Wagon R+) into the City.
Hutt Street, Adelaide
(Photo: Courtesy SA Tourist Commission)
I didn't know where the shelter was located. Slowly cruising along Hutt Street I noticed a car just pulling out from an angle park position. I pulled in and realized then this was right beside the famous 'Litfa-Saeule' (Advertising Cylinder) where the code 1550 was born and linked to the name AN.GAS. (Radio ABC 891 used to be called 5 AN).
A vital piece of information at that corner of Hutt Street, I would only see on my return. Why it took me three years or more to see this proves I was not looking for codes. In HIS time God revealed and opened my eyes to whatever HE wanted me to see. Friends, it is liberating to know HIM, the ONE you can trust, totally trust and trust again!
Some early morning walkers I asked were not much help to me, in finding the shelter. I just walked south, under the terraced, historic houses shown in the photo above. Sure enough, without any detour, outside a historic looking place, a few people had congregated. It was the place I was looking for.
The radio broadcast had ended. Only the technician was still there, packing up his equipment. I had a brief chat and got myself a free coffee. I sat on one of the tables and chatted with Matt and Dwayne, two young men,
... on editing I saw code Y N V, 55, makes sense!
who had slept on the street that night. (The Hutt Street facility was equipped to only provide a hot shower and free breakfast, probably run by dedicated volunteers, who I salute).
I asked the young men, what it was like sleeping on the street in the middle of winter in Adelaide. Neither of them seemed terribly distressed. Both had had a shower and looked normal. I asked them what they were planning for the rest of the day. Dwayne was going to a doctor's appointment, Matt was hoping to look for some work. He was the son, or nephew, of a Minister of Religion.
During our brief conversation, sitting with them on the table, the familiar theme kept coming through, one I had heard by homeless people in Third Street Mall in Santa Monica, California: "It's not my fault. They should not have done that to me. It's all too hard! What can I do?"
This may sound harsh, coming from me. And not every story of a homeless person is the same. But all should realize, even homelessness is only a temporary state. Life moves on, life can't stand still. Ultimately, everyone is responsible for their own destiny. There is some truth in the saying: God helps them, who help themselves.
May I rephrase? God will help you, if you only ask HIM. But HE will not do for you, what you can do for yourself. A life of feeling sorry or yourself leads to a life of regrets! Edith Piaf's song No regrets is not a new-age idea. It's a proven path to overcoming.
Two pieces of information hit me as I got back to my Suzuki. Firstly, the street name, metres from where I had parked, Allan La. How perfectly does AN fit ALL this?
Secondly, the house in Hutt Street, the building where I had parked, was number 124. If it would have been 144, I would have gone ballistic. Even though, I have no idea what my psyche would be like, when it's gone ballistic.
(Actually, when I think back ... 9 years ago I had behaved ... close to ballistic, but, no way will I look back in regret. I have moved on!)
I found the missing 20 only seconds after driving away. Allan Lane had me spellbound at that moment, so I turned into it, just to drive that way.
As it happened, on the otherwise clean, narrow laneway, lay a bottle. It looked clean. I did not even have to get out of my car to pick it up. The bottle was clean, as if placed there not long before, and very conspicuously. I played the game. Here it is:
HAAGEN Lager Beer - 5 % ALC VOL. 330 ML.
I can't recall ever seeing this brand of beer. LA.GER does it not point to LA and a Ger.man?
If I were to add 20 to 533 it would make 553.
This number points to the USA - 553 St. Kilda Road, Melbourne (Chapter 5).
This closes the 53 circle - Angaston's postcode 5353. My Angaston experience on 14.4 lead to 0. (See end of chapter).
Plus, last not least, it was US Independence Day, when I picked up the Lager bottle!
- - - - - - -
One morning during writing this chapter I was watching Channel's Seven Sunrise Breakfast program. Dr. JD reported during the interview about a breakthrough in cancer research. He concluded by expressing his hopes, that (details escape me, sorry) "... the new product could be on the market within 5 years from now, not in 10 or 15 years."
This 1/5 sequence triggered a thought. It reminded me of what I had thought only minutes earlier. For some reason I had contemplated the number 1115, the day of the big fire, and wondered what Psalm 111.5 in the bible reads.
Verse 5 was less famous than verse 10, which starts with a very well-known Christian paradigm: "The fear of the Lord is the beginning of wisdom".
The other catalyst, which caused me to respond to Sunrise, was the location of the laboratory, where the breakthrough had been made (Adelaide). The name of the institute itself also triggered my funny brain - H. I.
Lastly, how convenient, the last three digits of the H.I. Fun.raising Department's phone number, were those of that day's date - 2.81 (Aug 12).
My email didn't address the medical issue, rather I commented on what I had heard the day before on the radio. The idea suggested by a scientist to me seemed to come from a brainless mind. (Read it in the email below):
(The H in H I stands for Hanson. How strange, at exactly 5.10 PM that same afternoon, while walking my dog, I noticed a truck/trailer rig from the HANSON company turn from Bridge Road to McIntyre Roads).
One radio station yesterday reported a breakthrough in research. They discovered an organic substance which, allegedly, stops tree branches from growing. The idea is to save fruit growers the expense of pruning. One scientist (a female) compared it to the RU 486, but for trees.
If I were a scientist's advisor, I would direct them to the most fundamental lesson of life: To take God seriously is the foundation to stand on, if you want to become wise! (Psalm 111,10, not 5, otherwise it would be 111,5).
The really good news, Dr. D. will love, you don't need to wait 5 or 15 years for the fruit of wisdom. God can give it in 5 Minutes.
PS Did you know a day consists of 1440 imuntes?
(Please note, spelling errors edited out, except the last word):
Change a to e in tsunami >>> minutes.
1440 = D A Y.
Y A D. No regrets.