I have been to three things and said almost nothing at any of them

Three times in four years I have gone to something where people who do this meet each other. Each time I stood near the edge, listened carefully, spoke to nobody beyond ordinary politeness, and went home. I do not regret going. I learned a good deal by listening. But it is now obvious that a room is not where I am going to find anything.

Thirty seven, Didsbury, four years in. I am not shy in ordinary life. I manage people at work. What defeats me in those rooms is that everybody already knows each other, the conversations have a history I am not part of, and I cannot find the point of entry without feeling like I am interrupting.

I mention it because the standard advice in this city is that you have to be seen, and I want to be honest that I have tried and it is not working, and that I am not going to keep doing a thing that produces nothing.

Where I am good is in writing. Given a month, I am a decent correspondent, and two people have told me the man in the letters is more likable than the man in the room.

What I want is a written beginning that stays written for a while, then one meeting with one person, and then, if it holds, a structured arrangement with duties and a fixed evening.

I am not looking for encouragement to try a fourth room.