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I crave advice from those regarding managing middle-aged struggles, including existential reckonings, diminishing importance, noticing one’s neck like a Salvador Dalí clock plus a fresh interest for A Place in the Sun. Lately, I came across his remarks about hitting fifty during a chat: “I think if you’re going to have a good go at the second half of your life, you have to edit away all the noise,” he said. “Just be with lovely people. I’m avoiding negative people – ‘mood hoovers’ – and getting better at saying no.”

My first thought was: doesn’t this conflict regarding shunning downbeat folks and mastering refusal? Might that suggest he must escape his own nature? I get it – such remarks define us negative types, and yes, I’m one of them. Although in our community we actually prefer the expression “energy vampire”. Refrain from using “downer” or “spoil-sport” – these comparisons to everyday gear are insulting; we possess sentiments (though often pessimistic). In a bind, I might tolerate “melancholy luxury blanket”.

Maybe you belong to this group as well. Are you less the life and soul of the party and more its accountant or undertaker? Does your thorough reply to casual greetings make people step back nervously? Do proposed “enjoyable” plans trigger a visage akin to having ingested something unpleasant? Do you see yourself in gloomy figures; has a spiritual reader mentioned your vibe is murky?

Should this ring true, welcome to the club, and it’s fine. 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. Such critical insights aren’t typical from “positive” friends.