Kesh Patel

Personal / Unfiltered

Unfiltered

Thoughts, observations and the occasional lapse in judgement.

Conkers are better from a distance

The horse chestnut tree outside our house has spent the last couple of weeks dropping conkers onto the drive. As a child, I loved them. I remember watching my dad throw large sticks into trees to knock down the biggest ones. His success rate was limited, but the ambition was there.

Now it’s getting colder, my flip-flops have gone into hibernation and I’m back in barefoot shoes. They’re comfortable right up until I take the recycling out. With my low vision, I don’t always spot the conkers before I step on one.

If you’ve ever driven over a conker, you might know the satisfying little pop. Through the sole of a barefoot shoe, it’s a different sound. Mainly mine.

I still like the sight of conkers scattered beneath a tree. I just prefer to encounter them with the part of my body that holds memories, rather than the part carrying the recycling.

I knew better, obviously.

I've recently started listening to The Courage to Be Disliked, a book about Adlerian psychology. One idea has stuck with me: perhaps what matters isn't just why we do something, but what purpose it serves.

Anyway, it got me thinking about my decision to register as severely sight impaired.

My eyesight had been deteriorating for years. The evidence was conclusive. Yet there I was, clinging to my old identity like a personal trainer refusing to let go of his protein shake during a strip search.

I knew I was going blind. But registering wasn't really about accepting what my eyes could no longer do. It was about what that meant for the person I thought I was.

Perhaps delaying registration served a purpose. Perhaps I just wasn't ready to let go.

Which is quite impressive, really. I was the one going blind, yet somehow considered myself the leading authority on whether I was blind. What a complete bellend.

Eventually, something shifted.

I realised registering as blind wasn't going to make me any more blind than I already was. It wasn't about giving up or admitting defeat. If anything, it meant I could finally stop wasting energy pretending things were different.

I hadn't lost my identity. I was simply making room for a slightly different version of myself.

Turns out I'd spent years negotiating with reality.

It had been a pretty one-sided negotiation.

Earlier entries

October 2026
Before this gets out of hand

I nearly called this a journal. It sounded like I had a system. I don’t.

This is where I’ll put the thoughts that follow me around: blindness, music, training, technology, other people, and the occasional problem that turns out to be me.

Some entries will be funny. Some won’t. I may change my mind halfway through one. That’s allowed. The point of writing something down is to find out what I think, not pretend I knew all along.

If any of it sounds certain, give me a week.