I do books, quietly, in the corner of somebody else's evening

I am an accountant, which is the least interesting sentence anybody has ever opened with on this board, and it turns out to be the most useful thing about me.

Twenty nine, the east. Two years in. The one arrangement I have had was with a woman who ran her own business and had not opened the relevant drawer in fourteen months. I sat at her table one evening a week for most of a year and worked through it while she did her own thing in the next room, and the arrangement was almost entirely silent, and I have never been happier.

That is the shape I am looking for again. Being in somebody's house, doing something genuinely useful, present but not the centre of anything. Told when to arrive and when to stop. Checked on occasionally. Not talked to unless there is something to say.

I understand this reads oddly. Most people here want attention and I want the opposite, or rather I want a particular sort of attention that consists of being expected and then largely ignored.

I do not want anything physical. I do not want to be paid, obviously, and I would not do this work for money for anybody I knew socially either. And I am not available at short notice, because the work I actually do has a season and between January and April I am no use to anybody at all, which I would rather flag now than in the second week of a busy year.