I keep a note of who I answer, and the number is small

Since January I have answered nine letters out of something over a hundred and thirty. I know the number because I keep a note, mostly so that I can look at it when I start to feel uncharitable and check whether I am being fair.

Nine out of a hundred and thirty sounds brutal until you look at the hundred and twenty one. Roughly half were identical to each other. Twenty or so were about money in one direction or another. A dozen became rude within a day of not hearing back. A handful were from people who plainly had not read a word of what I wrote and were working through the board alphabetically.

Thirty seven, the Jersey side, ten years leading. I have one arrangement running and I am looking for a second because there is genuinely room, not because the first is failing.

What gets into the nine is boring to describe and difficult to fake. A man who has read what I said and answers it. A man who tells me something specific about his own week. A man who does not require a response within a day to remain civil.

What I want is a household arrangement with duties that hold across a long stretch of ordinary time. Nothing in it is for hire, there is no arrangement here carrying a figure, and I say that on a lifestyle board because in this city it still has to be said roughly weekly.