2. True Grit    

It was on April 13th, just before Easter 2006. The night before I had gone to bed at 11.11 pm, but was wide awake again at 1.11 am. Too many 1's to be co-incidental. I reached for the transistor to listen for the latest World News or anything interesting. I find it fascinating one moment to be listening to a foreign reporter talking from a busy main road in Kabul, the next minute a caller in a far way country town tells how they cope with the ongoing drought etc. 

That morning, without changing the dial, I was tuned to a talkback radio station. The signal sounded faint. I knew it was far away. After listening for 5 minutes or so, I heard the radio host answer his next caller: "Hello Daryl." The was no answer. He repeated "Hello Daryl" a few times, without anyone coming through on that line. 

Keith, the Radio host that night, did something unusual then. He counted numbers. Starting at ten, he counted backward - nine, eight, seven ..., as if Daryl was one of those, who comes to life hearing coded numbers. (There is people like that, they tell me). 

I sensed there was a certain aura of magic on the airwaves that night. At that stage I didn't know Keith's surname was Son-go-an. I noticed that he made a mistake in counting back from ten to one. He left off number 6. (Now, if he were a politician I'd throw in a remark about the IQ levels of ...). 

I had already heard two names mentioned in the few minutes of waking - Derryn Hinch and Neil Mitchell, both announcers at this Radio Station. 

(Hey, just now I see a link here. Derryn - Daryl. Did the Allan key story have anything to do with this?)

Hearing those names I knew what Radio Station I was listening to. I had had fun with this prominent Melbourne station before. Plus, on separate occasions I had crossed paths with Derryn Hinch, who had years ago cut me off in the middle of a talk-back call, while he worked in Adelaide. Likewise Neil Mitchell; a couple of years ago he interviewed our Prime Minister. The transcript showed a mistake in what the PM had said:  "...does not tell is as it is. 

If is is it, it is if, who is it - Visit Adelaide's Light Square to make sense of is, if and it. Clue - my wife's initials are IF, her first name starts with IS. Perhaps IF is it?  

I fell asleep again, pondering the strange radio host's count-down in far away Melbourne.  (During the day my small radio never picks up this station, 800 kilometers away). The next morning I got up early. Time for some fun. At first it was going to be just a limerick. As the story unfolded, as the plot thickened, I knew a five line limerick would not tell all. It turned into a four-verse poem.

Please note, it was only 2 weeks since I had made some big discoveries regarding the number 486! It was still warm and fitted in perfectly.


Email to Radio 3AW - 13/4/06:

Subject: Daryl's call from number one

Hi Keith,

There is one silly reason I am sending you the following poem. It may sound like a compulsion, but I am just having some fun, made a poem about Daryl and a Number One.

I went to bed last night and the clock showed 11.11 PM. Nothing unusual. But I woke again at 1.11 AM  (Adelaide time), so I listened for a while to the radio. As happened a few weeks back, I heard your station, it was 3 AW, because a caller called you Keith and you mentioned Neil Mitchell and Derryn Hinch. 

Anyway, here is the poem - I made it up not only from listenening, but from experience - I had waited on hold to a talk-back station, when something unexpected happened.

Kind regards

Dieter Fischer, Adelaide

ISA 486


Daryl's call from Number ONE 

Waiting on the line, hello Daryl, 

AW’s Keith felt taken over a barrell,

It happens often, it’s not really fair

The line was dead and no one was there.


It wasn’t malicious , nothing really at all

While waiting and waiting, Daryl had a call,

He had to quickly attend, take a run,

The call was to the lo, from a big Number one.


Next day at the cricket, while doing bat

Daryl still had the runs and on the toilet he sat.

He'd rather be the hero, knocking down sticks

Everyone knew, it would’ve been a 4 or a 6. 


And the moral is think - what you 8 before runs.

Don’t start what takes time, possibly tons.

Consider the problem, the result of the stew.

You may get a call for a Number one, a great big ...six.


The original word in the 2nd verse, 4th line was - for. I changed it to from. The mistake lo instead of loo (toilet) was intentional, a bit of wishful thinking, perhaps, at the time?

- - - - - - -

For those not familiar with the game of cricket: Runs are what gives the game their point-score. You can have one, four or six runs after each bat. It took me years to learn that to bat was not to fend off the ball, thrown at speeds up  to 100.35 km/h approx. but to knock over a contraption of sticks, three vertical and one horizontal on top. 

The one with the bat (Batman) tries to hit the ball as far as he can, so he can go for as many runs as he can, before the ball is thrown back toward the sticks. Legend has it a bloke called Daryl hit the ball harder than anyone had ever achieved. That far in fact, he had time for a quick run to...  

The highest score (six points) is scored when the ball goes over the boundary or into the crowd. When a good batman achieves this, he doesn't have to run, but scores six anyway. Not surprising, looking at all the gear batmen wear; helmet, leg protection, face mask etc. It's surprising they can run at all. 

As an extra incentive to hit the ball accurately and for a six, one company offers 50 thousand Dollars to any batman hitting their advertising billboard. (I have seen this happen at the only cricket match I ever attended at the Adelaide Oval in Jan. 05). 

The ultimate achievement in an international cricket match, they call it test series, is to win and go home not with a trophy, but ashes. (I think they burn the 4 sticks, also called stumps, and all the opposition's bats. This makes it easier to fit their spoil into their hand luggage, when taking it home on the plane.

When all is bat and run, they call it 'over'. Now that's original !

- - - - - - -


Two attention grabbing slogans on envelops I received in the mail - 1. It's what we've always known ... 2. This is not a game ... 


It was not a game, but fact that the day I sent the email about Daryl and No. 1, I received this envelop in the mail. I had gone to bed at 11.11pm and woke at exactly 1.11am.

I immediately read the letters CM as 'see 1'. I had not seen 1000 numbers one, but 7. Close enough. 

- - - - - - - 


One Sunday morning, still in April 06, I cycled north on Nelson Road. As I passed the site of a vacant building block, a few words on the for sale sign caught my eye: "Let your eyes land here". My eyes had already done just that; and not for the first time. 

Many months earlier the same location had been on the TV News. A heavy piece of machinery was shown, after it had accidentally turned on it's side, while demolishing the old house. From memory, no one was injured and I had wondered, what on earth made them report such a trivial incident on TV. 

This happened about a year ago, not long after my April 05 USA trip. I took note also, because the name of the street opposite had four letters, which teased my Da Ninci brain as I deciphered: You won LA'. (Actually, just as I write I see for the first time that the name backward simply reads - You Lam). 

The words on the sign - let, land, here - were enough Da Ninci to warrant a search online. This started once again a process of probing deeper, asking questions and seeing (not seeking!) links to other events I had written about. And so it came to pass.  

It was easy to locate the property online with a Google Search. The ID number was 2280392. I thought - what silly code to give a block of land! Would it not be easier to identify such property with e.g. LNR 123 - Land Nelson Road 123? I recognized the 228 as the number of my Suzuki registration plate, nothing else until ...  

Whatever made me do it? I read the numbers backward and added 293 and 822. The result (1115) registered immediately. It had emerged in Chapter 33 - Now I'm found - as the number that won, won, won. During a trip away with my wife in an art exhibition, she had pointed out a painting, No. 111, costing $ 500. We had thought that we recognized the artist as somebody we knew in Tasmania (see painting below).

The number 1115 is also the date, when our state experienced the worst bush fire since Feb. 1983. It was Jan 11, 05 when 9 people perished tragically.



Portrait of Charles Newton, my father-in-law. The talented artist, RW. is also a Pastor.

Call me crazy for seeing this - Before inserting I was going to resize the picture. When I saw the dimensions on the screen - 511 x 398 I left it. Why spoil the TUM (totally unplanned magic). 

- - - - - - -

As I write an enquiry into the bushfire tragedy is taking place. The emerging facts point to a mix-up in who was in charge. Earlier reports pointed out the fire had not been taken seriously enough, until it was too late. 

One farmer with a volunteer's spirit had offered to use his plane to fight the blaze early on, but was prevented from doing so. (Most likely by an incompetent bureaucrat, who couldn't remember, where they keep the forms volunteers have to fill in, to get permission to fight fires).

- - - - - - -

If the above, or any of my freak numbers co-incidences,  was or was not manipulated by an intelligent brain, I do not know. Some may be, others may not be. But the fuzzy feeling I receive inside, when it all works out perfectly in every way, I can't but thank a higher power, who I know is none other than my Lord and God.

Many times, when I doubted these amazing discoveries, thinking I may indeed be obsessed with something and find myself waking up in a mental institution one day, more magic would cross my path. 

Where is the boundary between obsession and passion in what you do? To answer this question, to test if you are acting with passion or obsession, everyone ought to examine their motive in all they do.

Being obsessed, as I see it, is usually for self gratification. A goal must be achieved at all cost, to give pleasure or make us feel good. A person being passionate stays in control. He or she is not desperate to reach a goal, rather uses his or her drive, intelligence and energy to help others by doing good. 

I have in other chapters outlined my ultimate motive for my action. To do God's will, channeling my energy into activities so  that everyone comes to know HIM as a friend forever. Some may ask, why are you not a Pastor? There are two reasons. One, I don't feel passionate about it; and two, I have a phobia, which I am sure would get in the way to even enrol in Bible College. I hate filling in forms.  

Passion is something you can let go, because you own it and control it. An obsession drives you. Even the thought of releasing it causes angst.  

Let me in one sentence draw a picture and interchange the words passion and obsession: The aging actress felt passionate about her new dress and youthful looks, as she walked among the poor, neglected children in Africa, whom she was obsessed about helping.


Adelaide, Easter Sunday 2006.

Across the country every Easter Christians march to draw attention to the real meaning of Easter. The March and Concert afterwards, in super weather, was a great witness to our city. Surprising that not many more Christians came to fly the flag in public.   

Aussie Awakening (quoting the organiser's website) has its beginning on the weekend before the opening of new Parliament House Canberra in May 1988. The rumour had leaked out that there where to be no prayers at the official opening. In a grass-roots response that even shocked the organisers, 50,000 people turned up from across the nation. 

That's the Spirit! 

 - - - - - - -

My suspicion that the 1115-YouLam code was a set up was fuelled by the following sequel to this saga. This tale was impossible to emulate or manipulate.   

As I sat down to record above tale into my diary, I placed a video into the VCR to view a talk by Dwight Nelson. (It was one in the series, where many months earlier, I had had an encounter with. I had written the word 'Nanosecond' for the first time ever. I found it astonishing that the same evening I heard Dwight Nelson mention the word Nanosecond on one of his videos).

This time again, a timing incident happened in the early part.  Exactly at the moment I was writing the number 1115 into my diary, I heard Mr. Nelson (note the name) announce the scripture he was reading from. It popped onto the TV screen - Revelations 13, 11-15. I could not help but marvel at the timing, when those 4 numbers 1115 came onto the screen. 

This kind of co-incident happens so often lately. It may be nothing at all, but unless I hear that it happens also to other observant minds, and at what frequency, how can I evaluate them? One thing I do know, no human mind had anything to do with it, except the one who observed it. I believed this was Almighty God doing what HE can do best - work out all things for good - and surprise us with the results; not for us to boast about, but to give glory to HIM! 

But there was more. A few days later, the date was 5/4/2006 I woke at 3.01 am. (I just saw it and inserted the 20 in the year; now all numbers from 1-6 can party). As I pondered on the weird linking of 1115 to Nelson Road it came to me. It made sense. The chain reaction had started in Nelson Road. The name of the preacher on the tapes was Nelson. The denomination he belongs to has a congregation approx. 1/2 kilometer away, right near the vacant block of land, my eyes had fallen on to.

I had made contact with this church about two years earlier, after finding a postcard in our letterbox. At the time I felt God wanted me to respond. This led to a course I attended, which continued with the video series by the preacher named Nelson. 

There still was a further sequel to this NLson story. On April 6th at 8.51am I was watching Channel Seven on TV. A regular guest reporter from the US used the word 'Nanosecond'. That's interesting. I thought. The Nelson Road story was fresh in my mind. It clicked almost immediately; the Hollywood gossip reporter's name was Nelson. 

This called for a little fun message.  As had happened before, the Adelaide phone book listed a perfect company name, where the Name and phone number could not have fitted better. 

Here is the email I sent on 6/4/06 to Sunrise. If anyone at the other end saw the connection to the word nanosecond, I do not know. 


Hi all,

I only have a nono-second. Why is it a poor weirdo is called crazy and a rich one is eccentric?

Kind regards

Dieter Fischer


PS  ...0468 is not my bank balance, but the last 3 digits make today's date and a horrible drug! But you have to be weird to see it.


(I forgot in my email to mention I was referring to the back-up number I listed in the online feedback form. 468 was also that day's date, if 2006 is made into 2+6=8). The storm in Innisfail, Queensland, postcode 4860, was only a week old. 

The company's name, if the recipients indeed bothered looking it up, started with Nano. 

- - - - - - -


The Weekend Australian - April 22/23, 2006.  

Romeo, romeo, where the bloody hell art thou, romeo? (In the section I cut off, he was standing on a fold-up ladder, looking up at his Juliet, saying: D'OH!...

I was cycling along a road called, the Golden Way. In the gutter I saw an object, the size of a fist, shaped as a C. Was I to see something? Two meters away, amongst the bushes, I noticed a page out of a newspaper.

I was weary of picking up trash from off  the road, especially on a busy main road. I cycled on. But I was also curious, what was on the page of the newspaper. I turned back after 50 meters or so and picked up the big C and the page of the newspaper. Above is a cut-out of a cartoon on page 16. 

 Beside the newspaper, how funny, I spotted a wrapper for chewing gum, called Extra, as if it was meant for me - as an extra. 

Strangely as this may seem, only a few days before I had heard on the traffic report of a bus/motorbike collision on the same road, the Golden Way. I tackled the steep climb of Wynn Vale Drive to investigate. There was nothing much left of the accident, except a patch of sand over some spilled oil. It was right on bus stop number 53. 

Still puffing after climbing the steep hill, for some inexplicable reason, I cycled a few hundred meters in the other direction. (Maybe there would be a Dun-hill packet for the collection?) There wasn't. Instead I spotted right in the middle of the median strip a C shaped piece of wire, the size of a soccer ball.

Below is a scan of other bits I picked up right there. Judge for yourself, how they fit into the picture:



On the left is a betting slip. Australia is big on horse race gambling. The horse was called Queen* JILL. (The date 18/4/06 hides 486). There is a #7, the horse's number? 

On the right as an extra, an Extra Chewing Gum wrapper. (Because I had picked up this one a week earlier near bus stop 53 on the same road, this second one was hard to overlook.  

Bottom: Cut out of a brochure I picked up at the same spot, on the Golden Way. It was an advertisement for a car components dealer in far away Melbourne. 

Under the word Quality is a logo, King Springs. Under the word INCLUDING is the word KONI. King in German is Konig. (What will I see next?)

 Ah, the address - For 1 - Wins on t. It is all a little SUS.  

* Believe it or not: While typing I had just switched on the radio to listen to International Rendezvous on Adelaide's EBI FM Radio. It was at precisely 9.07 pm, Sat. 29/4/06.  The ABBA song "You are the dancing Queen" played within moments of tuning into this station. At precisely the same moment I typed the word Queen, it came out from the radio. 

(Now that's amazing! See previous paragraph what I just saw - TUM). 

- - - - - - - 


It never seemed to amaze me, how I became aware of my world around me. Who was controlling my mind? What kind of force was this, which caused me to do the things I did. Even more amazing was the timing, such as 'magic' in the previous chapter and now 'Queen'. 

To explain this as remote guidance, I have no doubt, placed my case into the mentally ill category by the health professionals. If I were to consult the experts, they would place me either into the schizophrenia box or prescribe tablets as one suffering from delusions. 

In late April 06, I received an email from a person, who called himself Adrian R. He claimed to have stumbled upon my Chapter 30, while googling for Pembroke School. This person Adrian told me I was suffering from a serious mental condition, putting me into his schizophrenia box.

In his email his description of my writing (his literal words in italic) starts with a 'little dizzying.' He continues through to 'a self absorbed character, obsessed with numbers', followed by 'it likely represents a delusion of grandeur' and ends with a real compliment: Hearing voices and particularly commands can be pretty dangerous as they tend to command things that might not otherwise be done - often in God's name. This is schizophrenia.

His concluding remarks were that I needed advise from a doctor, who would refer me to a psychiatrist. Adrian ends with: I trust this has already happened. 

- - - - - - -

Codes, codes and more co-incidences.  

I wonder, if the mental health profession is re-thinking their approach to a condition they call referencing. 

My Da Ninci code is accessible to millions of P/C owners, with a click of a mouse. People reading and responding to my writing, is therefore much easier than it was before the internet turned information sharing into a modern miracle. 

I could logically explain, why somebody would put 1000, 1 billion, 100 million, 5000 into a mailout to create 1115. The Y NE, part of a car registration plate I spotted in a newspaper, makes sense, because it asks simply, why N, something I had asked for years. The letter N is indeed Gold'n in this context. 

Once upon a time a man named DR ... The packet between the margarine and Ardmona is Good ... If these interpretations warrant a dose of tablets - they have to find another mug to swallow them.

- - - - - - - 

As I have explained in a previous book, on above logic, everyone with a call from God to accomplish a special mission must be regarded as schizophrenic!  After reading the email I sensed the sender was a professional, or perhaps a student of psychiatry, practicing his textbook knowledge on me.

I emailed in return and thanked him for his frankness. I agreed that what I had experienced was weird. I pointed out that I had been down the path of psychiatrists, therapy and tablets before. But I had not taken any medication for a number of years. 

I further pointed out that passing judgment may be a little premature. If he were to read the background, which led to chapter 30 (there are 207 preceding chapters) or visited my driving-school website, he may form a different opinion of me. The gentleman expressed, with a hint of compassion, that it must have been traumatic for me, going through all this.

I don't follow this reasoning, sorry. Whoever you are, Sir, please let me assure you I regard what I have experienced (and am experiencing almost daily) as a great, fun-filled adventure. Are you telling me, the hour I spent on my knees most mornings, is a waste of time? 

Even if it were all hogwash, let make it plain, Sir, sitting in St. Peter's that December evening, listening to the Pembroke girls singing Christmas Carols was not traumatic in any way. Silent night, sung in German in that beautiful Cathedral, was one of the most enjoyable moments that Christmas season. It was stressful in one sense only, I had to fight hard to hold back the tears. 

When did you last cry, Sir, letting the real you, the emotional side of you, break through and show you the world from God's perspective (the Bible) on not merely from your intellectual, academic textbook point of view.  

Believers like me are a threat to your profession. We believe that one can hear God's voice and walk close to HIM throughout life. Many of us do unusual things, yes, in the name of God, because we know HIM intimately and love HIM more than our spouses or children. 

Please don't tell me my lifestyle needs correcting by a health professional, who has never experienced God's love and forgiveness. Many of your clients, if indeed you are a shrink, need do nothing more than to truly forgive a perpetrator, who had hurt them. The honest, genuine release of that person's wrong doing, will also set them free. 

From the way you wrote, Sir, it sounds like you never think about God or pray to HIM. I have prayed for you - that your eyes may opened; that you may see that God loves you too, whatever your status - psychiatrist, psychologist, butcher, baker or learner driver. 

He has been trying to get through to you, but your heart is hard, as if made of stone.

- - - - - - - 

Newspaper Supplement - Front page photo.

True Grit: A senior who wouldn't let age dictate when to retire. Note how he is holding his hand on the chin. I seen it. 

- - - - - - -


One last point, Sir. My outside-the-box thinking started with one simple question. Can you answer it? How many co-incidences does it take before one says: "Wait a minute, this can't all be meaningless. Perhaps there is an intelligent power, beyond my understanding, at work?"

How could it be that my name, date of birth, street address, and dozens of other data, all match the same code? They are not delusions. I have a passport to prove it. 

In what way is the following fact a delusion? In the English Bible Joel 2, ends in Verse 28, while the German Bible places the same verse into Chapter 3, Verse 1. I discovered this fact, while the two vehicles we owned carried registration numbers 228 and 301. Seeing these numbers and the oddity associated with it, was one of the earliest points, where I started thinking outside the box. Was it a crime to question this co-incident: "Isn't this odd?"

The coward's way (co-incidences happen everyday) gets us nowhere. Great inventions and discoveries are often made, after somebody says: "This can't be co-incidence, let's probe a little deeper."

I was very stressed after making many such discoveries in the beginning. There were many. Writing it all down was good therapy, which helped me make sense of it all. 

I did not write any of this to be validated by readers, nor did I care about having my name on the front page of the newspaper. My aim was, and still is, to do the will of God, to love my fellow man and to do good. 

Please show me, Sir, and fairly specifically, if and where I am doing otherwise or hurting anybody around me. If I sound self-absorbed, as your write I do, I know my inner motives and my heart. Who are you to judge from a distance? 

Sir, I do not demand that you or anybody reads or believes my writing. It would not bother me, if only a handful of people read it. 

What thrills me, however, is when I imagine that blind men or women, children, the aged or anybody who has never heard the wonderful, liberating news of Jesus, have their eyes opened and start a journey of love, peace, joy and happiness. 

Those who look beyond my wacky content will uncover the real message behind this story - Jesus Christ.

It's all about HIM.

Chapter 3