Below: Google Images                                                                                           This winner gave IT ALL

To think that GOD loves me

Autobiography                                                 Dieter R. Fischer                                                    Book 8

THE WINNER GAVE IT ALL     Index     ISBN 0 9577 426 8 1    Book 8 / Ch 10    Written/Published 4.2.10 - 10.2.10 

This chapter takes place mainly on the South Island of New Zealand, where I spent most of January 2010. My journey continues along the same, code-numbered pattern with unusual discoveries.


10. Sensation -  saison

My year 2010 started watering our garden. Because of the continuing drought Adelaide's gardeners are allowed to water, holding a hose for five hours a week; but not to use a sprinkler. Our Premier does not trust us with attaching a sprinkler to the hose, which would not use any more water, if done responsibly. 

That first day of 2010, as I stood watering, I listened to our ABC Radio. I had heard many strange lyrics, but that morning I learned of a Paul Kelly song, written about his home town Adelaide. One of Australia's most popular singer/songwriters ends his song with:

"All the king's horses all the king's men wouldn't drag me back again to Adelaide, Adelaide, Adelaide ...".

Not an encouraging song for Adelaide residents. Next, Kel Richards in his Wordwatch segment informed listeners of the heated debate, which had been raging in the New South Wales town of Jervis Bay. What is the correct way of pronunciation - Jervis or Jarvis? 

As if the average Australian had nothing else to think about on the first day of the new year. But then, I am also one of those citizens, definitely not average, who insists on getting things right. 

In the afternoon I rewarded myself for having published the two previous chapters, almost on time. I took my GIANT (bicycle) for a ride through the beautiful hills around Adelaide, the city which Paul Kelly is no fran [sic) of.

As my legs were turning the pedals, my mind kept flooding with thoughts. Readers by now will not be surprised at the trivia, which my mind occupies itself. However, the timing of this trivia, the discoveries I make, seldom seize to amaze me.

Grinding my way up Ansteys Hill I was thinking about the letter* 0, which many times had played centre stage in some of my strange tales. It's twin, the letter 0, is the 15th letter in the alphabet.

(*correction - should read: number).

Moments after thinking this, reaching the top of the hill, I took a photo. I had seen a little magic, that day's date, in the number of the arterial road I had just cycled up - A 11. 

A is letter 1. I added 0 and it became the date 1.1.10.

At the tiny village of Houghton I stopped for a rest at the lovely town square, a tranquil place. I just sat on the steps of the war memorial, enjoying the sunshine, admiring the lush green, well kept gardens all around. The little stone church opposite silently witnessed it all. 

Before leaving I read the names on the bottom of the memorial. One name, which looked like it had been freshly engraved, took my attention. There was another name, very similar, engraved on the metal plate, just above. There was a discrepancy, which bugged me. Take a look:


A 11 to Houghton. I had not cycled up there in many months or years? On 1.1.10 I did. 



It is quite possible the two are related; and somebody changed their name, for whatever reason.

More than the similarity in name, I was bemused by the possibility of applying two of my codes (plus e... and ...a to o) to create Homeaster, pronounced like home master (Meister = German for Master).

- - - - - - -


Only the day before writing, another oddity crossed my P/C screen. Things didn't add up, I had to speak out. I was searching the SAPOL (South Australian Police) website in preparation for the Neighbourhood Watch Newsletter, of which I am the editor. One item of breaking news caught my eye:

"Missing Person - Amy Louise S...  [full name was supplied) (3/2/10)

Holden Hill Police are concerned for the welfare of Amy Louise S... (16 years) who went missing from her Golden Grove home at about 8.20 pm on Tuesday 3 February 2010."


I saw two reasons to speak out, emailing my thoughts to the contact address on the police website. One, February 3 was a Wednesday, not a Tuesday. Two, the not so little girl had barely gone missing twelve hours. Was it not a little early to raise an alarm? Had Amy-Louise been a six-year old girl, I could understand, perhaps? 

But then, the numbers 272 and 468 (both of which I searched out via the phonebook, plus the word Milford, may be clues? I see clues everywhere; too many, perhaps?   

- - - - - - -


Cycling back from Houghton via Tea Tree Gully I passed a church on Milne Road. I had been praying for a sick lady, who I only met once. When I noticed the street name Magnolia Ct, my antenna went up. A famous street, in my writing, is named Magnolia Ave. It's located in Riverside, California.

Just opposite Magnolia Ave (in Tea Tree Gully) was another hint at the US, a motor vehicle's registration plate - 553. (The address of the US consulate in Melbourne). For this reason I decided to visit this church two days later, Sunday 3/1/10. 

For some unexplained reason, unless it was planned by the ONE who knew best, I arrived 1/2 hour early for the evening meeting. Why waste the time, I took my bike for a ride along a picturesque road, which borders Ansteys Hill Conservation Park. 

A kilometre along that road, on the ground was a piece of paper, about half the size of a postcard. It had $10 written on it, probably a price tag from a garage sale. From experience, as my mind switches to another frequency, I take a look at the immediate surroundings. if there is something I should see.

The paper lay just outside a driveway, where three cars were parked. In a flash of a second my brain arrived at the number 10. All I had to do, deduct registration plate 900 from another in the same driveway ...910. (Please note 0 9 1)

The third plate consisted of the numbers 3 and 5; too familiar to simply dismiss. For this reason I also took a closer look, right there, at the hand-written note on the telegraph pole. Jesse (a bird) had gone missing. If found, please phone 04 ... I had not found any bird, nor seen one like Jesse, but I still took note of the phone number - it contained 15, 228 etc.

I could not resist sending a text message to the sad bird lover: FOUND JESSE YET? Surely, this would encourage her or him, that there is another concerned citizens in the world, who takes an interest in the welfare of our two-legged feathered friends?

Back at the church the service was due to start. A young couple, Alison and Craig, made me feel very welcome, even though I was almost old enough to be their grandfather. The church pews had a shelf for hymnbooks and bibles. As I casually picked up a bible, a brand new NIV King James edition, I noticed on the back, engraved in gold, the number 00190. 

Since the number 910 was fresh in my mind, I immediately rearranged it as - 900 10. (With words and letters they call this rearranging anagrams, read on). I really enjoyed the DVD that screened that evening. A modern approach, presenting the Gospel - Tomatoes 022 is all I recall.   

- - - - - - -

While I am dealing with a nine, an interesting variation of that number appeared that same evening 3.1.10 on the ABC's religious affairs program Compass. In the very first scene, a well know, former ABC Religious Affairs  reporter, John Cleary, was walking along a street in Brunswick, Melbourne toward his old *Salvation Army Citadel.

(*Most weird, as I edit right here, a brass band on Southern Star Radio, New Zealand is playing: Onward Christian Soldiers - I can't confirm this, but my guess, it's a Salvation Army Band - 9/2/10 - 5 PM Adelaide time). 

East Brunswick was the location of a memorable church service I wrote about in Book 7, Chapter 6. I paid attention. Right at the beginning of the program, as John was walking along the street, a parked motor vehicle showed up on the screen, very briefly. It was long enough for me to see its registration plate -  PIX 500. 

= PIX D = P 9 D (On editing I see the word - Pinned). 

- - - - - - -

At the end of Book 7 I failed to recognize an amazing 96 link to Townsville (the town with 96 000 inhabitants). It came to me during the New Zealand holiday, after visiting a church service in ...ville. (Full story to come). 

The first 4 letters (VILL) are Roman Numerals. Take LL as 100 (50+50) and VILL turns into Number 96. 

(A few years back, a long-running, Australian TV serial had that name - Number 96)

- - - - - - -



(Back to Adelaide, Sunday Feb 7th, 2010)

Why would I come home from church, remove the sock from my right foot, fire up the computer and produce a jpeg on my scanner - my sock, together with Hymn No. 342? (The Hymnal for Worship and Celebration - Word Music, Waco Texas).

Judge for yourself, if my my thoughts are reasonable, or it's all co-incidence or crazy or what?

Getting dressed for church I chose the red, plain, short-sleeved shirt. It looks just right for church, I thought. After I had put on fresh socks, I noticed a dark spot, most likely grease from the bicycle. It wasn't large. I couldn't be bothered looking for another pair. Who would notice? (Somebody took notice, read on).  

Sitting in church minutes later, crossing my legs, as men do, I noticed that dark spot. Most likely the lady behind me may have seen it too. What a dilemma - a worshipper with dirty socks! It didn't bother me. Why try to hide anything. God does not look on the outside; the stain or holes in our socks. No matter who we are or how we're dressed -  HE accepts us as we are.

Next came the magic, or madness, think as you may. The brass band played a wonderful rendition of a popular song (take note): Just as I am without one plea, but that thy blood was shed for me ..." 

The words were displayed on the screen. I could not help thinking of the red shirt I was wearing.

But it came better still, a connection in that same hymn to my spot on my sock: The preacher, to conclude the service, had asked the brass band to again play Just as I am... It had been a wonderful service of re-dedication to Jesus.   

Had the band not played the hymn again, I may have missed it altogether. Singing the second verse along with the band I had to smile, as the lyrics appeared on the screen: "Just as I am and waiting not, to rid my soul of one dark blot..."


Here it is, Hymn 342

(Forgive me for the fun with the lyrics and mathematics - 3+4    2 ... it happened on 7 Feb)

There really was one dark blot ... on my sock.

After taking off my sock to scan this, one could say, I was literally ... blessed out of my socks!

A vague thought emerged, after scanning this. Did I not attend a Salvation Army church service in chapter 8 - where I just came as I was, sweating and wearing cycling pants? 


But there was more, otherwise I may not have bothered you with my dirty laundry. The time for the church service was such that I just arrived home for the second half of the BBC's long running religious TV program 'Songs of Praise'.

As soon as I heard Pam Rhodes talk about Billy Graham and the Mission England Campaigns of the 1980's, I thought immediately of 'my song'. Every evangelical Christian of my era immediately links 'Just as I am' with Billy Graham's hugely fruitful crusades. I knew this Episode of Songs of Praise would not be screened without playing this hymn. I hoped it had not already been played. 

No, my magic morning ended in listening to these three songs: One day at a time, sung by George Hamilton, followed by 'Just as I am', concluding with a hymn that expresses just how I felt: 'To God be the glory, great things HE has done.'

Those on a journey with God regard even the little cookies in life, as great things HE has done. I notice little things around me constantly. I see God in everything. This is what it means to walk with the Lord. HE will show you in little things how interested HE is in YOU, in the very minor details of all our lives. Even the hairs of our head are numbered. 

- - - - - - -

At this point, after celebrating a delayed birthday lunch, two hours after having written the above about "Just as I am" I tuned into Southern Star Radio (New Zealand).

I am listening to their lovely, relaxing Christian music. Amazing, within minutes of tuning into Southern Star I heard a male voice sing:

"Just as I am ..." Music to my ears, tears in my eyes.

What a wonderful birthday present. 

- - - - - - -


Before travelling to New Zealand a brief update on the sad news about my imprisoned friend Peter Liddy. As I write, he must be the loneliest man in the world. In January 2010 his mother passed away. Mother and son had been very close. They wrote letters to each other several times each week. How he will miss those letters from his mother, who never gave up on him!  

Since my return I have again written (via email) to the media about the case, with a copy to the Attorney General. Months ago, after sending the 'weighty piece of evidence' (Book 7, Chapter 26) to the new Opposition Leader Isobel Redmond, I received this reply: "Thank you for bringing this matter to my attention. An investigation is under way." I have learned to take these short letters for what they are, short letters, containing very little.


Sometimes the postage stamp of these letters is more interesting than what comes out of the envelope. Like this one I received on a letter from a Member of Parliament in November 09.

 Postage stamp: praying mantis - Australia

And it's for 55 cents. Don't you love it? 



Seven years ago, when I was much more politically active, I had tried to draw attention to various matters. Already back then, the reaction to my whistle blowing was no different. It must be a standard trick of politicians - just tell the informer, an investigation is under way. This, so they think, makes the troublemaker go away. 

Considering the damning evidence I presented, in black and white, I really had hoped some authority would wake up and take real action. But no (to the best of my knowledge). It appears corruption is not only being covered up, it is a booming industry in South Australia. 

On the day of writing our Adelaide's Sunday Mail Newspaper (P.3) reports the surprise resignation of District Court Judge Marie Shaw. The lady had rendered her resignation for no specific reason.  According to sources (a phrase, which gives the writer a blank cheque to write anything) her decision revolved around 'job satisfaction'. 

The author of the article, Nigel Hunt, further reports that another prominent Adelaide lawyer, Michael Abbot, QC (QC = Queens Council) had made the same move some time earlier. He has joined forces with Marie Shaw to form a new legal team in Adelaide. Nigel Hunt further writes that defence lawyer David Edwardson QC welcomes the move (e.g. Marie Shaw returning to the bar table). 

The article briefly reviews Marie Shaws career. What Mr. Hunt failed to report, perhaps because it was not one of Mrs. Shaw's successes, that she was the defence lawyer for Peter Liddy nearly ten years ago. 

Nor does the Sunday Mail reporter mention that QC Edwardson was the defence lawyer for Eugene McGee, who together with his brother Craig is on trial for the alleged hit-run accident in 2003.(Read on) 

The public had never been made aware, to the best of my knowledge, that Eugene McGee, right from the beginning of his saga, was Peter Liddy's lawyer.

To me the resignation of Marie Shaw would make sense, if she had witnessed the weighty piece of evidence in favour of her client. It was not available in the 2001 trial. Perhaps, she made moves toward putting right that which clearly is a dark spot on Adelaide's judges? Perhaps she now really believes that her client Peter Liddy has been saying the truth all along, that he is not guilty of any of the charges?

Perhaps Mrs. Shaw believed it, after ... she saw it?

If only I could turn her and two Isobels* into believers! One Isobel says there is an investigation under way, but she didn't tell me what is being investigated. (Aaah, the water quality of the Murray?)

The other Isobel is so content with life, she never investigates anything, but finds a one-word explanation for everything, even the most bizarre twists. To her it's all co-incidental.


One co-incident happened moments before writing this. It involves *her name and that of 'de Jesus'. Flicking through the TV channels I happened to land on the SBS Channel, which broadcast the TVE Spanish News. Two names popped onto the screen within seconds - a lady Isabel Carpio and and man ?... de Jesus. 

It reminded me of a Carpi story, which I had heard on an overnight talkback radio show. I thought I send it to the Spanish TVE international network in an email:


Date: 8/2/10

Subject: Isabel and de Jesus

Hi all,
I didn't understand it, but could read two names on the screen, here in Adelaide, via SBS Television.
If Isabel Carpio inserted the o to make Isobel, she becomes Isobel Carpi.
Did you know what a lady once did? On her GPS in her car she wanted to drive to Capri. By mistake she typed in Carpi. Instead of arriving at the beautiful island near Napoli, she ended up in Carpi near Bologna.
Isn't language an important matter? Para el mundo - on your website - sounds so nice, if only I knew what it meant. I should learn Spanish and French and Italian and Hebrew and ...
Kind regards from Adelaide, Australia
Dieter Fischer
PS  My wife's name is Isobel - only need to change alpha to omega.


I had no idea what para el mundo meant. I had read it on their open index-page, while typing my email. I recognized para,- since we live in Para Hills. 

Out of curiosity I googled what para el mundo means. It's means: for the world.

WOW - something out of Para Hills - for the world? Love it.


- - - - - - -

On the front page of the same Sunday Mail (7/2/10), is a photo and story of a lady, who had revealed a sexual relationship with our Premier Mr. Rann. She now had passed a lie detector test and wanted the Premier to know the outcome. He still denies everything and says: Wait for the court case!

Makes me wonder, why he places his hopes in the outcome of the court case? Wouldn't it be better to put your trust in the truth? Lawyers and judges may let you down, unless, perhaps ...? (I better keep this thought to myself).

I smile every time I read the name of that lady, a staff member, who had worked in the Parliament Restaurant - Michelle Chantelois.

Her first name is that of my daughter. The surname sounds like: See IT a NT & LOIS. (An incredible  'Lois' story happened on my last day in Christchurch - read it later).

- - - - - - -



The occasion for our family's travel to New Zealand was the wedding of my daughter Michelle. She and her husband Darin, born in Christchurch, finally had decided to do the right thing: Tie the knot. Apart from my wife and I, my mother-in-law and my three sons, two accompanied by their partners, all travelled across the Tasman Sea (separately). My wife, her mother and I flew in on January 5th. 

The happy couple, who actually live in Adelaide, had travelled 10 days earlier to make preparations. Both met us at the airport and later took us to a BBQ in a southern suburb of Christchurch. We met the groom's family for the first time. It was also Michelle's 33rd birthday. It was a low-key affair. The wedding four days later was on everyone's mind. 

During casual conversation between the two grandmothers, who had also met for the first time, a spooky fact emerged. It came out that both ladies had lost their husbands within a day of each other. One on 24th March 1981, the other only the day before.


- - - - - - -

Aerial view prior to landing in Christchurch, Jan 5th 2010

Top: I took this photo from the plane, not knowing that later I would cross this river by bicycle, cycling between Sheffield and Methven. (It certainly looks like the Rakaia Gorge).

Bottom: The morning after arriving I took a ride on this bicycle. I had no particular plan, but ended up here on the corner Salisbury / Montreal / Victoria Streets. I picked up a lavender coloured (discarded) CD and an empty V-drink container. 

The three street names at this corner are interesting. A real [t] man from Salisbury loves travelling to Victoria. (I did 5 times in 09).

A moment after taking this photo an ambulance raced by, sirens flashing. 

The tower on the right shows the Diamond Jubilee Tower. If the sky had come out a little more blue, I would have commented on the colours - blue, yellow, red. They are very appropriate, since Christchurch is a sister city to Adelaide. (Hey, my bike is blue).

- - - - - - -


The next morning the first item on the agenda was ... shopping. Since we stayed in a self-contained apartment, we needed supplies before anything. I dropped the ladies to the nearby shopping centre (near Barrington Street). Women seem to thrive among the shelves of supermarkets, while I have little patience for shopping. I decided to go for a walk.

Totally unexpected, my 45 minutes jaunt filled two pages in my diary. Studying the map, I wandered off, through the cemetery to the river. I crossed a little footbridge.  At a residence, number 24, I turned back and walked along the little river and turned into a long road called Barrington Street.

It was a beautiful, mild summer's morning. From some distance away I could see a bundle of papers had been strewn all over the footpath, and was blowing onto the roadway. My instinct wanted to pick them all up, but at first I walked on. Why should the tourist clean up their street?

Between the corner of Darley and Moana Streets I had already picked up a piece of paper, a sheet from Princess Cruises, addressed to a gentlemen named MUGFORD. I really didn't want any more trash. When I saw the name of the street opposite, Rose Street, I became weak. I turned back and picked up all the papers.

It was a real estate magazine, which had come apart and had been blown around a bit  There was quite a mess. But the bigger the mess, the more satisfaction when you see it all cleaned up. Before discarding all the papers into a nearby bin, my eyes fell on an address: No. 518 ....Rd. The property for sale was in the suburb of Brighton. Later, I took a ride to Brighton. 

Car registration plates on that first day in New Zealand bothered me somewhat. A parked vehicle in a driveway made me think of number 96: MR VIC. Even the plate of our hire car, a Mazda Demio (IM DEO) smelled of 96, if you put 1 and 8 together ... 186.)

Picking up my ladies at the shopping centre, I was walking past a TV monitor. I could hardly believe my eyes - in the middle of the day a Christian TV program. I could see a choir singing; the sound had been turned off. In the background was a huge banner - 'Jesus is Risen'. Loved it. 

From the little I had seen and heard in New Zealand so far - Christian radio all day and night, Christian TV in the middle of the day, interesting car registration plates and lots of trash on the road - what place had I come to - not heaven, yet?


Talking of Christian TV, on the day of writing, (Sunday 7/2) I rose again at 4 AM to watch my programs. For the first time in weeks I was following Dr. Michael Youssef's message, half-awake. He made mention of (I can't recall in what context)  ...a pedestrians getting bitten by a dog on the side walk. 

That's funny, I thought. Exactly 35 hours earlier I had been walking along the narrow footpath on Prospect Road, Prospect. I caught up to man pushing a pram, and his little girl. She was holding onto the leash of their little Schnauzer. As I passed by the dog took a leap toward my foot and bit me. The girl was too slow to pull him back, despite her father yelling at her.

The little ankle-biter gave me a fright as he went for my white sock. (Did he see a black spot on it and reacted?) It hurt enough to cause pain for some time afterwards, but not enough to run to a doctor or lawyer.

- - - - - - -


On Wednesday 6th January 10, our first full day in New Zealand, the newspaper printed an alarming news item. Alarming, if you were a cyclist in New Zealand. I had planned to do some cycling there, but I ended up doing much more than anticipated. The article on 6.1 in THE PRESS, was on page 3:


The Press, Wednesday 6/1 - Page 3

Text: Cyclist killed 

A German woman, 19, on a cycling holiday in New Zealand died after a collision with a truck in Manawatu yesterday. The accident happened just before noon on State Highway 3, 4km north of Bulls, Sergeant Marc Clausen of police central communications said. The woman died at the scene. The truck driver was not hurt. 

Her name online is given as Mia Susanne Pusch, 19, from Fulda. (I recall having read a different name, also a German, female cyclist killed)

I noted the name Mia, similar to AMI, the name of the main Christchurch stadium I would be visiting later. 

What do I make of the surname Pusch? ...killed while riding a pushbike near Bulls near the Neuman (new man) intersection in Or the name of the sergeant: CL AUS EN? Australia between CL and EN?

FULDA also has me worried. Removing L D leaves AUF, which in German means up, off.

- - - - - - -


Friends, I can't help but think: How easy would it be to create a fake identity, even start a face-book page for some non-existent cyclist and report anything about them - even their death! Maybe, I am again thinking too far. But with the McGee hit-run crash fresh in the news, I am still waiting for answers to some very valid questions.


Stop Press: On the morning of publishing this chapter I went into Adelaide's Samuel Way building in Victoria Square and followed proceedings in the McGee trial. 

The two brothers Craig and Eugene are charged with conspiring to cover up the alleged hit-run death of cyclist Ian Humphries. I arrived at 10.35 AM, hot and sweaty after cycling the 15 kilometres in extreme heat. There were not many in the courtroom, considering how one reporter had described it last year: the court case of the decade! (Classic example of media hype).

A young lady, the prosecutor, was questioning at great length a professor (of Psychology?) She asked the expert about puny matters, obviously with the aim of convincing the court that the two brothers set our from the start to conceal the matter. 

The trivialities of the matters this female law expert kept harping on, led to nowhere. As she asked question after question I thought how much all this is costing, how much this woman is paid per hour to carry on with this bulldust.

No doubt, if she were to challenge my thinking, she would argue that her highest aim is justice. This is why everybody was present in that court room this morning.

(Maybe, even the former Member of Parliament, a barrister and solicitor by profession, who arrived just after me, and who promptly sat right beside me. I was wearing a red shirt, made sense).

I couldn't get over the sensation, this was just a show trial, just as the Kapunda Royal Commission was, to demonstrate to the public how much importance our system places on justice.

What about truth? During the break I asked a grey-haired gentleman, what his interest was in the case. He said he just wanted to see the two brothers brought to justice. I said to him: "There is a lot that the public does not know. Did you know," I whispered in his ear, "that the dead cyclist was working for the police communications (or police intelligence?) 

He was surprised, when I said that. I further told him that Mr. McGee used to be Mr. Liddy's lawyer. He didn't know that either. Did you know, that the main accuser of Peter Liddy, was a criminal with a long criminal history? They brought him in from Queensland, out of a jail, and promised him a lesser jail sentence, if he testified against Peter. He didn't know that either. 

He started to become uncomfortable, after I said plainly: "The problem is not so much the courts, it's the police investigations, which were not carried out properly. I think drugs (note the word) that's what's behind it all; and police corruption. Maybe the whole hit-and-run was staged?

Hearing that he excused himself and made a bee-line to ...

I didn't return to the court room. On my way out I briefly faced Eugene McGee. I didn't know what to say to him, so I told him just that. When I asked if his mother was in the courtroom he said she had passed away. I told him Mrs. Liddy also had passed away.

 I jumped on my GIANT to cycle home. Adelaide's heat, coupled with high humidity, felt very uncomfortable. But I loved my ride home, which I took via Prospect Road, the same road where a dog bit me on Friday 5/2. 

A strange thought-pattern, a chain of related thoughts developed. It lead to the word drugs. It all started not far from the corner Regency Road. A group of business people were standing outside a photo-copier shop. Immediately, my brain went back about five years to the time when I had registered as a website address. When I sold it I made a bit of money out of it.

This took my thoughts to the story of the lucky fellow, who in the early days of the internet saw that nobody had registered He did. His $ 75 or whatever he paid for it turned into nearly 1 Million Dollars, paid by the drugs company Pfizer. 

With these thoughts, turning my pedals, I passed a Chemist in Kilburn. I can't say which I saw first, the police car parked right outside, or the sign Chemist. In a nano-second my brain registered Chemist - drugs - police...drugs ... 

I really wanted to cycle on home. It was hot. But I was curious and didn't want to miss anything. The next side road was Le Hunte Street. I turned around to check out the police car. The registration plate 254 at first meant nothing. Then - 25 X 4 = (you) C?

It did not end there. Behind the police car was another registration plate - 944. Do you see it now? 1044 - April 14th - at Angaston. (Book 3, Chapter 3).

I continued toward home on my GIANT.

- - - - - - -


The LD in the heading of this, Book 8, has already brought some surprises. An LD surprise came in New Zealand on the first Sunday I went to church there. The road from our apartment to the Linwood church took me via ALDWINS Road. The Minister's name was Allwright. 

 Is this another LD clue?. Take a look at this magazine:


Did the artist mean to highlight the letters LD?


 LD - is a significant combination, 50 500. (Love IT = SHS).

In Luke Chapter 7, Verse 41 Jesus begins a story with these two numbers: "There was a certain creditor, who had two debtors. One owed fivehundred dinarii, and the other fifty."

Jesus in telling this story tries to convey that one who has been forgiven much, loves much. More so than one, who is less aware of his sin, who considers themself having lived a good life. This person may feel less passionate about the need for forgiveness. 

Ken Cooper, the face behind the LD, appreciated God's forgiveness very much. He not only had to thank God for forgiving his bank robberies, he also was forgiven 30 years sitting in jail. Ken loves very much. It shows. (His story is in Chapter 1).

- - - - - - -


(Back to New Zealand)

While my mother-in-law and wife were sleeping in, I took my bicycle to Brighton, Christchurch's seaside suburb. It was a cool, cloudy day, but no rain. Quite unexpectedly, at Buckley Street I came across a large shopping centre. Considering that exactly a week earlier I had published a Chapter, titled The Eastern Gate, you may understand my amusement, having by accident discovered THE EAST GATE shopping centre.

I could take this further and deduct East Gate from Eastern Gate to arrive at ER N, but there is Buckley's chance .... Another name, this time a restaurant at Brighton, took my fancy - SALT on the PIER. 

On the way I had stopped at a Thursday open-air market on Pages Road. I couldn't resist a bargain - a perfectly good, red-and-white striped umbrella for 2 Dollars NZ. You don't buy a coffee for that, and a coffee you can't keep as a souvenir.

I had not forgotten to check out the address (No. 518) at Brighton, the property I had seen for sale in the papers I had collected. Surprisingly, there was no For Sale sign posted outside. Why on earth was I here for? Was there a clue I was meant to see? 

Opposite, as if trying to hide, I noticed a 4 WD vehicle parked behind some bushes. There were people sitting inside. Why they were there, I did not know. I did not care. There was nothing illegal about looking at a house, through the open gate into the front yard.


Artwork inside front yard - couple embracing, kissing. 

Had I come to the right place? Just in case, I took this photo:

On the front lawn outside the house I saw some trash. I picked it up for the diary later. It was an ice-cream wrapper or something similar. 

Rearranging letters I read: See a L Star.

Sounds OK, but...


... I must not get too carried away with my letter-ology. In my inbox, the day before writing, came a circular email. A very clever brain had put together some anagrams (letters re-arranged to create new words).

Here are the most amazing ones: (Author unknown). 








and my favourite 


 - - - - - - -


It was Friday 8/1, the day before the wedding. I was cycling round town early in the morning to check out some pipes I had seen stored in Montreal Street. There were 4 yellow pipes, secured by 8 orange traffic cones.

That morning, after seeing a poster on an advertising cylinder, I began contemplating an extended stay in Christchurch until Jan 30th. I had known that my Adelaide football team was playing in New Zealand, but it only really sunk in, that it was actually playing in Christchurch against Wellington.

I took a photo of the pipes and a registration plate beside them. This is what I saw:



Bottom right: Pipes in Montreal Street. The registration plate 3615 are my date of birth (30.1.50) plus a 6. My 60th was coming up.

Left: Right opposite the pipes was house number 305. The letterbox only shows 05. 

Add 305 and 5 = 310 or deduct 05 from 315 = 310.

 (I just noticed after scanning: Take 3615 and add the date of my birthday 301 = 3916).

Top right: Poster in Manchester Street, advertising the big match on my birthday. A red bus passes Red's player, pin-up boy Scott Jamieson.

Would I spent my 60th birthday in Christchurch? Something inside me said: "I AM", when I noticed the name of the venue of the football match - AMI Stadium? 

- - - - - - -


Saturday 9th January was the big day, when my daughter Michelle married her partner Darin at the Clearwater Golf Resort, Belfast, about 15 minutes from Christchurch. It was wonderful to meet our new relatives for the first time, and friends, some who had especially flown in from Sydney, Queensland and other parts of New Zealand..

I met my daughter and the bridesmaids at the flat in Linwood, where they were staying. A good friend of the bridegroom, who had also flown in from Adelaide, was the chauffeur. Until then I had mainly my speech on my mind, when it gradually dawned on me, I would have to walk down the isle, arm in arm with my daughter. I felt a sense of pride, the right kind, and enjoyed the experience, all two minutes of it.

Both the ceremony, conducted by a marriage celebrant, and the reception were at the same venue. It was the choice of the groom, who wanted to get married in his hometown. Looking back, I am glad he did. Otherwise my wife and I would probably not have visited this beautiful country. Neither would I have had all the fun that was waiting for me.


Clearwater Resort, Christchurch, New Zealand, January 9th 2010 - Wedding of Darin and Michelle.

Michelle, my pretty daughter, leaving Linwood for the big occasion. The apartment block was called Harmony, (please note). 

 (Photo: Sean)

Diane (left) flew in from Canada, just for the wedding. Kathy, from Adelaide, has been a close friend since their University days. (Photo: Dieter)

Jamie and Rick are close friends of the groom. (Photo: Tim)



A brave woman and a bald man!

In the background the picturesque lake and golf course of Clearwater Resort. 


(Photo: Tim)


On the morning after scanning these photos, on 9/2/10, the BBC London broadcast a brief item regarding public speaking. In the introduction the presenter said: "We all have at some time or other give a speech in public. Be it at a family wedding ..."

Well, I had done just that exactly one month earlier. Even though I had had some training at the public speaking club Toastmasters, I was still a little nervous. I applied some principles, I had learned: speak with a loud voice, clearly; structure major points; reading notes are OK, but never read the speech; keep it interesting, make a point in concluding. My point was - harmony.  

Some years earlier I had written a little poem, based on a true story. A couple was driving overnight from Adelaide to Melbourne. The wife was asleep and had not known that her husband had made a U-Turn to refuel. He felt tired, so she took to the wheel, promptly driving almost all the way back to Adelaide. The last line of my poem, which concluded my wedding speech, was some simple advise for living together, in harmony.


It goes to show, that silence, arguments, struggle and strife,

Create a barrier between people, not just a husband and wife.

Learn to respect, to forgive, speak your mind from the heart,

You both move forward, not finish right back at the start.


(Reading my poem*, another little twist. One verse concludes with this phrase: "...we women are brave." Just what I called my daughter in the picture above). 

Full text at  *Two U-Turn calamities


Talking to some wedding guests during the evening, made me realize that now we did know some people in Christchurch. We had relatives living there. The bride-grooms father runs a farm about 50 kilometers from Christchurch - breeding, breaking in and training horses for racing. I suddenly saw an opportunity to stay back for the football match, and make myself useful at the same time. It worked out perfectly.

- - - - - - -


The day after the wedding, on Sunday January 10 / 10 the weather looked a little wet. It rained. Maybe in church they should not have sung the song: Holy Spirit rain down. But they did at the Linwood church I went to. Just as I was getting on my bike to ride home, via Aldwins Road, it started to rain.

That morning, because of the wet, I didn't ride, but took an early morning walk instead. Had I cycled I would have missed a little 10 / 10 magic, shown here on this billboard:


Billboard on Opawa Road, opposite Mary McLean Pl.

If he can do it so can you. 


Australia's Mitre 10 hardware stores have as slogan - Mitre 10, 10 I 10.

 The only time I took a morning walk was on Jan. 10th, or 10.I.10. I thought to include this item, because the day of writing is 10.2.10.

On the footpath in Opawa Road I noticed firstly a white piece of paper, neatly cut into a P. Next, the sole of a shoe, pointing across the road directly to the above billboard. 

A price tag from the scene is also glued into my diary: $ 21.99 for C L/L Knit Short, Navy.

Adding 21+99 I created 120 - or 2 10. (Hey, that's today's date)

 (If I ever wrote a daily bible study, it would not be called Our Daily Bread. How about 'Our Daily Date' or 'Dating Jesus every day' ?

The Mitre 10 NZ slogan should only be applied in two contexts - If you insist on painting your house with a roller, wearing only underpants, or if you are a follower of Jesus, who said:

""I tell you, anyone who has faith will be doing what I have been doing. He will do even greater things than these, because I am going to the Father". (John 14, 12 NIV). In short - If he can do it, so can you. 

- - - - - - -


Having travelled this great distance, my wife, mother-in-law and I took the opportunity to tour around the South Island, before and after the wedding. We had the hired Demio for the whole of our 11-day stay. We chose a sunny, but cold day to drive the 77 kilometers to Akaroa, a historic French-flavoured tourist village. Many streets have French names.

The road to Akaroa, which leads to nowhere else, took us approx. 1 1/2 hours. In parts it is windy and steep. The scenery is unlike I had ever seen. Just before the town, climbing over a hill, aptly named Hilltop, the view of the deep blue harbour and the green hills around it was just like in the postcards. I should have followed my intuition and filled up the car in Christchurch before leaving. Luckily there was a Shell Service Station at Akaroa.

During a brief walk on my own - when you travel with wife and mother-in-law, you need these to keep sane - I took a look at the war memorial in Akaroa. It's a square, grey-brick structure with writing on the sides. Each side had something inspirational about those who died in war. I walked right around and read the last inscription: They loved duty more than they feared death.

Only a few metres away came a rather sombre, visual reminder of death - a dead bird together with a branch of a palm tree, and the nest that fell down with it. For a moment I was surprised. It looked like it had been there for some time, right by the war memorial, but nobody bothered to remove it. Neither did I. (Mother-in-law may have seen me, and I fear her more than death ... just joking).


Beautiful Akaroa, an easy, but spectacular drive away from Christchurch. The town is situated on the bay in the centre of the picture on the right.

Just noticed this little twist: Minutes before editing this section, I delivered our Neighbourhood Watch Newsletter (Para Hills 504) for distribution. In the quiz I had asked this question: What does Para mean? Answer: Little River (in above picture, just before Akaroa.) 


During mid-summer, with clear skies, daylight in Christchurch lasts until very late, even ten o'clock. This gave me the opportunity for evening exploration tours on my Firenze, the Italian name for Florence, the brand name of the bicycle I had been supplied with.

Another bemusing little twist: The gentlemen, who we rented our apartment from, who kindly lend me the bicycle, was a Mr. Read. To reach Mr. Read's  house the shortest route from Christchurch was via Wordsworth and Shakespeare Streets. 


Walking around the centre of Christchurch, the city which has been described as the most English city outside England, you inevitably find yourself at Cathedral Square. It's were everything happens, the open-air preaching, the daily markets, the entertaining buskers and the tourists, who just sit and soak it all up, while sipping a coffee at Starbucks. 

One evening I took of those strolls around the square, taking in the atmosphere. On the ground in the middle of the open space, I spotted a small piece of paper, half the size of a postage stamp. Obviously it had been the price tag for an item sold in the markets, which had long been cleared away. The stick on price tag was for $ 27.

Looking a little more carefully at the location, where I had picked up the 27 I saw that it was right between two buildings. Starbucks was on one end of the square, the CAMELOT (Lover of truth came) Hotel on the other.

Friends, take this as you will, I write it as it was, without bias or whitewash. One morning, after I had broken the news to my wife that I wanted to stay on and celebrate my birthday in Christchurch, I went into the city to enquire how much the change of flight would cost. 

I first dropped my two ladies to do their shopping, parked the hire-car and walked downtown, hoping to find a Flight Centre. I could have looked up an address, but I knew, sooner or later, I would see one of the familiar red signs.

As I was walking through Shades Arcade, I prayed this thought: Lord help me to find a Flight Centre and don't make it too easy to change flights, if you don't want me to.

Less than five seconds later, as I exited the arcade, reaching Christchurch's main pedestrian shopping mall, I saw the familiar red sign of a Flight Centre right there.

Reflecting on it, I hadn't been desperate. My prayer wasn't about a passionate subject, on which my whole future would depend on. Yet, God placed the thought into my mind, just at that time, to make HIS presence felt, to tell us how He loves walking with us, guiding gently. HE is a gentleman. 

(Shades arcade bring to mind a verse in the psalms:  ... the Lord is your shade at your right hand. (Psalm 121, 5).

How sad that many believers only pray when they desperately want something from their Heavenly Father, rather than letting HIM be part of, and guide them through their everyday life.

Changing my flight cost an extra NZ $ 120. Two Dollars for every year of my life - not an expensive birthday present. I had determined, if it were more than two hundred Dollars I would not have gone ahead with the change of plan. 

Christchurch, Canterbury, New Zealand - January 2010.

Isobel and her mother, relaxing in the famous Botanical Gardens. For her age, 88 years, Mrs. Newton is doing rather well undertaking such a long journey.


Christchurch is a Mecca for visitors from around the world. This couple finds relaxation on a gondola on the Avon River, which winds its way gently through this city.

Worcester Street, looking toward the Canterbury Museum; the Arts Centre on the left. It's early morning, otherwise the place is filled with tourists, who catch the tram from there to Cathedral Square. 




On the far left an advertising cylinder. Germans call it  Litfa-saeule. There are still many in Christchurch.   


After a great week, having enjoyed a beautiful city, seeing our daughter getting married, it was time to leave and to travel south. We had booked another apartment in Queenstown, a five-hour drive through the southern Canterbury region into Otago. 

I love driving, even great distances. In recent years, however, the joy of motoring has somewhat been spoiled by the fear of being caught speeding, unawares. During the 2000 kilometers we travelled in the Demio the fear of a speeding fine was even more acute. The contract by the hire company stated an extra administration fee was payable, if a traffic fine had to be dealt with.

I am not one for speeding. Likewise, the vast majority of mature drivers wants to stick to the speed limit. But sometimes, in Australia and New Zealand, these limits are not posted clearly, or they are unreasonable. Especially in towns and cities, where it could be 50, 60, 70 or 80 I had to ask my wife often: "What's the speed limit here?"

Thinking logically, some roads are built to comfortably drive at 130 km/h or even higher. Even the most basic 4-cylinder car is engineered to ride comfortably at that speed, or far higher. Why on earth go into all that trouble, then not allow mature motorists the freedom to enjoy it - if need be at 130 km/h?

I know the answer. It's two fold. One, Governments can't make a law that one must act maturely, when driving a motor car; neither can they legislate against stupidity.

Two, governments love the money they rake in, millions each year. To simply install a $ 50 000 camera and reap that same amount from it every month for doing very little, is like having your own ATM (automatic teller machine) on your kitchen wall. 

The rules and regulations that spoil my motoring have nothing to do with road safety. The main game is revenue raising. To receive a huge fine after accidentally driving a few kilometers over the speed limit, because the driver genuinely was unaware what limit applies, does nothing for road safety. It only turns an otherwise responsible, mature motorist into an angry one.

The road safety idea I had years ago, painting every 10th white line in the centre of the road a different colour (as a reminder to motorist what limit applies on that section of road) has fallen on deaf ears. Fewer drivers would be caught out, less money for government coffers. 

This confirms, without a doubt - the main game is not road safety, it's money making. Hypocrites!                                


Lately I've been thinking: Am I getting really fit, or more paranoid about speed limits? Even when on the bike I hear myself asking: "What's the speed limit here?

- - - - - - -


Soon after leaving Christchurch on National Highway 1, the skies brightened. We ate a sandwich in a sunny spot in the town of Geraldine. There was time for a brief look through the small, free entry museum. Leaving Highway 1 we turned toward the alpine country, tall snow capped mountains, towering above huge lakes, bordered by extensive forests. Not to forget the sheep, sheep and more sheep.   

We stopped and took a photo at the famous Church of the Good Shepherd, beautifully situated on the shore of Lake Tekapo. The window above the altar overlooks the lake with Mount Cook towering at the far end. It's probably the most photographed church in New Zealand. In the Maori language Mount Cook is called Aoraki (Cloud piercer). It rises 3754 m above sea level.


Much photographed church, Good Shepherd Church, Lake Tekapo. Well fitting scripture, looking toward Mount Cook:

'I will lift up mine eyes unto the hills' is the first line of Psalm 121. The day before writing I attended a funeral. The Minister read this psalm in his introduction. 

The most important buildings from the old gold-miners' settlement, Cromwell,  founded in the 1860s, have been re-erected as Old Cromwell Historic Village in Melmore Terrace. Entry to this little gem was free.

The horse on the right is not real, but made of concrete. The ladies on the left are real. I know the two ladies are real. They watched my driving, constantly reminding me of the speed limit. At those times I would have preferred the concrete horse in the car ...just joking.


After having sat in a motor car for several hours, arriving in Cromwell, my natural urge was for some vigorous walking. I took one of those strange walks. My diary specifically mentions what I was thinking: Often on these occasions, just going for a walk, something magical happens, without expecting it. What if I did really expect something? Would nothing take place then? 

All I knew is that many times God lead me to the most unusual places, doing most unusual things. I don't class myself a robot, but at the same time I know that God can and does lead his followers, as if by remote control, using HIS Holy Spirit as driver.

My walk in Cromwell took about 20 minutes. I liked Cromwell. The name starts with C and ends well. IT came in Molyneux Street. (A close friend in Adelaide has this surname). Looking on the ground I saw a twig in the shape of a C. Had it been any other shape I would taken no notice. I picked it up and looked around. Was this a clue? Did I need to see something.

Right across the road was a real estate for sale sign. I continued my walk, but made a point of checking the sign out on my way back. Two young people were walking by, watching me take this photo:


Real Estate For Sale in Cromwell (House No. 47)

I created a piece of art, A LIST ART.

In the chapter The Eastern Gate I had only 12 days earlier written this:

"Until looking at this ULP number I never saw 2 1s and 2 5s make 5 to 12."

When I saw the blank space behind ID#, and 11 55 right above it, I placed the little twig I had carried under the sign, and took the picture.

Here is a suggested slogan which would fit Cromwell very well:

 C L, C well - See Cromwell. 

I'm glad we did. 


But there was more: In the driveway beside this address were two motorcars, side by side. The two registration plates were: LG 5710 and LM 5995.

I wasn't looking for anything, but 95 minus 10 made 85 in a nanosecond. Would 85 lead to 185?

It did. 5995 - 5710 = 285. My little twig C (-100) squared it all up (no, down).

But wait. Earlier in this chapter, on my first morning in Christchurch I had had fun with real estate for sale. Remember, the statue of a couple embracing was in the driveway). The address was 518.

Remember 185 was also the number associated with the unusual story surrounding the letters MG.

Playing the letter elimination game (the L's cancel each other out)  the registration plates above (LG LM) result in MG.

MAGIC? Remove the letters MG = C AI.

Let me finish this chapter with an email I sent only hours ago to the German TV Program Journal (DW TV). I had watched it on the day of writing (9/2/10) for the first time this year, because I had been away and the timeslot had changed. 

One item in the journal that morning really brought home the madness that exists in our world - the huge gap between rich and poor. It was reported that two billionaires were spending huge sums of money (one invested 500 million Euros), building a hi-tech yacht to win the America's Cup race. The mind boggles as to how much money this is; more so, how much good it could do in the world. 

I expressed this thought in the email I sent in English: (In the PS is a little riddle, a simple one, which fits Chapter 10 perfectly).



Email to Deutsche Welle TV Journal, Date 9/2/10:

Hi all,

Nothing against hard work, which results in success and wealth. But to spent it on a *selfisch endeavour to win a trophy in yachting, is madness.

If only a fraction of the money spent on yacht racing, motorsport and other selfish ambitions were channeled into providing fresh water in every African village - it would make a good start to make the world a better place.

Long after the egos of ambitious, selfish men has been satisfied, the cries for food and water, for justice, will still be heard.

Kind regards

Dieter Fischer

PS  On a lighter note, a riddle: How did 10 become the sensation of the saison?

(* the spelling error was unintentional. I only just saw it on editing. The people of Cromwell will love it). 


Saison is the German word for season. The newsreader on DW TV had mixed up the two words sensation and saison. Sensation is German. It also means sensation. 

I seldom use two words in the English language: absolutely and sensational. But what God has done, and is doing in the world every day, is absolutely sensational. 

"To God be the glory, great things HE has done ..." Let's give HIM ten out of ten. 


Chapter 11