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Personally am hungry for insights from people about handling life’s midpoint hurdles, including existential reckonings, fading relevance, developing a neck like a Salvador Dalí clock along with a recent enthusiasm for A Place in the Sun. Recently, I discovered his remarks regarding his fiftieth birthday during a chat: “Trimming unnecessary clutter is key to enjoying your later years,” he noted. “Surround yourself with uplifting friends. I’m dodging pessimists – ‘fun sponges’ – and improving at refusing requests.”

Initially, I wondered: isn’t there a tension regarding shunning downbeat folks and mastering refusal? Doesn’t that mean he has to avoid himself? I know – it’s exactly the kind of thing a mood hoover would say, and that’s because I am one. However, among our group, we favor the term “energy drainer”. Steer clear of labels like “killjoy” or “buzzkill” – equating us to mundane objects hurts; we do experience emotions (even if they’re mostly bleak). In a bind, I might tolerate “melancholy luxury blanket”.

It’s possible you’re also a member. Do you tend to be the event’s realist rather than its cheerleader? Does your detailed response to “How are you?” have your interlocutor edging away uncomfortably? Upon hearing “exciting” ideas, do you make a face as if you’ve tasted something vile? Do you strongly identify with Eeyore; has a psychic ever told you your aura is grey?

If this describes you, you’re in our ranks, and that’s acceptable. Although modern wisdom pushes folks to discard “sapping” companions, I contend we bring substantial worth. 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. You don’t get that sort of service from “lovely people”.