So, why did I write this book?
What inspired me to write this poignant love story, filled with Ronald Knewer’s many self-diagnosed ailments; and the odd murder here and there - the cautionary tale of a man with less than six months left to live?
Well, I have dipped into my psyche, and I am going to have a go at explaining…
Many years ago, I suffered some rather serious symptoms, mainly caused by me crawling along dusty pipework, high up in the roof of a nuclear power station. I survived the subsequent surgeries, and after finally discharging myself, (perhaps a little too early), the surgeon described me as being ‘as tough as old boots’ and gave me a predicted 20-year lifespan. I refused to pay his bill unless he revised his prediction, and so far, I have managed to exceed both his forecasts of my expected demise. And by many years, I might add, and hopefully with many more to follow! I truly believe it’s all in the mind…
However, it wasn’t all plain sailing. The surgery left me with some tell-tale scars, as well as compromising my immune system. It turned me diabetic, and to date, I slowly shuffle along on my one (sort of) good leg, rattling from the many pills I take, along with several injections every day.
And with my buggered left foot as an unwanted bonus, I like to refer to myself as a ‘dead man (not) walking’. But I would add - always with a sense of humour. Instead of leaked radiation giving me superpowers or some kind of spider-sense, I got diabetes and a pronounced limp!
Of course, with the onset of the internet, I increasingly self-diagnosed, bemused by the various odd ailments that diabetes and, at times, an almost zero immune system tends to throw at you. Not as a hypochondriac, but as an independent and inquisitive being. After all these years, I consider myself at least three-quarters of the way towards being a qualified doctor. (Which, of course, I know I am not!)
Life is not always fair, but I remain ever-hopeful and difficult to put down. I often feel I am in the wrong place at the wrong time; but there is always hope – and there you have the basis for my book, and its main character, Ronald Knewer, with his ever-changing symptoms, and his fevered imagination. In a sense, he is a little part of me – just as I think you will find, he’s a little bit of all of us. I believe we are all fruitcakes in the grand scheme of things!
I also have an admission to make. I have always been a ‘sensitive soul’ – not in some cry-baby, poor-me way – I mean that I have always seen a lot of strange things (that are often not really there). One day I will probably write a book about it. I have often been revealed as a ‘healer’ and encouraged to ‘see’ – but I am sometimes wary about crossing that line without knowing what is there, standing in front of me. Like dogs, a priest, a tall Masai warrior, or a bewildered small child, singing in the loft of a dark and empty house, struggling to pass over. (Of course, it might just be all the drugs I am on, ha-ha!) Whatever; it is an extra sense, an intuition I seem to possess, which can often make the everyday seem very close to psychic. I am OK with it. I don’t have any fear in those often spooky situations; it's just the way things have always been for me.
I describe these moments as a realisation (and acceptance), that something is happening that shouldn’t be. The spirit world momentarily revealing itself. Like when a face suddenly ripples, and becomes different before my eyes, revealing an inner self, the guardian angel of a soul that normally stays hidden; that sort of thing. And that, in a way, is what a lot of ‘According to Ronald…’ is about. But not all of it…
Overall, this is an irreverent, eccentric, and darkly humorous tale. As a genre, I would describe it as ‘semi-supernatural’. (Especially as the narrator would seem to be an angel.) Please read it with an open mind, or with your tongue pressed firmly in your cheek. But either way, please enjoy it as a tall tale that possibly grew too tall! And as for the murders; well…
