I was peering into a bowl of Miso soup that my friend had put in front of me, when she asked me what I wanted for Christmas.

I was dumbfounded.

I was just about to move half way across the country, and my life was undergoing a massive transformation; joyful tidings were the last thing on my mind.

I was turning my back on Brighton, on my friends. I was fed up with the spurious affections of many whom had passed through my life there, and derisive of all relationships – including close friendships – merely as a matter of import.

Lurching over the murky trough on my lap, I was pondering drearily over my drastic relocation to Norwich, when my friend jubilantly announced a main course of Quinoa and lambs lettuce salad.

I must have thrown her a look of surprise, because she conjectured that a mutual friend had got her on a bit of a ‘health kick’ recently.

I had been concerned about my friend’s health for quite some time, following a week-long stint of mushroom pate that had left her bloated and remorseful. She was allergic to dairy products, and to make matters worse, had an incongruous relationship with cheese.

I had spent a couple of months crashing on her sofa the preceding Christmas, and had jumbled recollections of her numerous breakouts. Each time she suffered a reaction, I would reproach her for eating the offending item, and went so far as to suggest concocting a ‘meals on wheels’ plan – a kind of detox for dummies.

Unfortunately, my cockeyed suggestions made her even more determined to dice with dairy products. I tried to comfort her with weekends in, but the Indian takeaway and innumerable desserts only seemed to exacerbate the situation.

Now, a year on, she was offering me ‘kin-wah’ (Quinoa) – delighting in her shrewd pronunciation, as she made the announcement - and feeding me Miso soup, which I had always delegated to the realm of ‘serious’ health activists and extreme dieters.

After some serious questioning on my part, she elaborated that she had been dining with this mutual friend quite regularly, and had since been incorporating all kinds of weird and wonderful ‘superfoods’ into her diet. It also turned out that they had been spending a fair amount of time together salivating over the latest blue cheese addition to the service counter, and sipping specially selected wines.

What a strange time of the year to embark on a ‘health kick’, I thought, not that cheese and wine were a healthy supplement.

But for all my cynical (and often arbitrary) reproaches, the tender image of my friends tentatively sourcing ingredients for their three course meals had evoked a sentimental response in me. What they had found in each other was both friend and ally, and friendship in its sheer beautiful simplicity.

Now I’m back in Norwich, licking my wounds.

By Amanda Carey/MOLI