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Personally am hungry for wisdom from others about handling midlife challenges, for example existential reckonings, fading relevance, noticing one’s neck resembling a melted timepiece and a newfound passion for A Place in the Sun. Most recently, I came across the chef’s comments about hitting fifty during a chat: “Trimming unnecessary clutter is key to enjoying your later years,” he noted. “Just be with lovely people. I’m avoiding negative people – ‘mood hoovers’ – and getting better at saying no.”

My first thought was: isn’t this contradictory regarding shunning downbeat folks and mastering refusal? Doesn’t that mean he has to avoid himself? I get it – such remarks define us negative types, and yes, I’m one of them. However, among our group, we favor the term “energy drainer”. Please avoid “wet blanket” or “fun sponge” too – all this comparing us to utilitarian household items is offensive; we have feelings (albeit mainly negative ones). In a bind, I might tolerate “melancholy luxury blanket”.

It’s possible you’re also a member. Are you less the life and soul of the party and more its accountant or undertaker? When you give an exhaustive answer to “How are you?”, does the other person slowly retreat? Do you greet “fun” activity suggestions with an expression that makes you look like you’ve swallowed a slug? Do you see yourself in gloomy figures; has a spiritual reader mentioned your vibe is murky?

If this describes you, you’re in our ranks, and that’s acceptable. Despite a whole self-help-inspired trend urging people to get rid of friends who “drain” them, I’d argue we offer real value. I reckon a mood hoover would have said something discouraging – or at least made a slug-swallowing face – when Jamie described his plan to write a kids’ book with an Australian First Nation main character without consulting Indigenous communities, which could have prevented a whole lot of problems, upset and offence. Such critical insights aren’t typical from “positive” friends.