We chatted and laughed, shared memories and dreams, talked politics and women's rights.
And then one of my friends said:
" The thing is, when I look back on my life, it feels as though I haven't really achieved anything."
I watched the shadow of sadness and failure flit across her face.
This friend of mine who is kind, thoughtful, generous, caring and fills every moment with " distance run."
She has brought up a daughter with Down's Syndrome who is so confident and so popular that walking through town with her is like accompanying a minor celebrity.
She has supported her son and her husband, chaired a local charity and through it all, she has never stopped working.
If those aren't achievements, what are?
What makes us believe that a popstar or TV presenter or famous author has achieved more than those of us who live ordinary lives, caring about ordinary things?
When did the sense of whether or not we have achieved something become inextricably linked with something outside of ourselves?
When did the measurement of achievement stop being something small and become something big?
When did it stop being something personal and become something public?
We tried to reassure my friend that she had achieved so much, that no one in her family would be where they were today without her, that the charity she chaired for all those years wouldn't be doing so well today if it hadn't been for her, of the difference she has made to her workplace.
She listened and nodded and I could tell she was trying to believe us.
" It's kind of you to say so," she said.
But we weren't being kind, we were being honest.
It was just that she didn't believe us.
Somehow, today, being good at your job, being the best parent you can be, creating a home, having lots of friends and a busy social life, isn't enough.
These days, a sense of achievement has to be fuelled by something greater than daily accomplishments and small successes.
And it makes me worry for our kids.
I worry that they are confusing unattainable dreams ( always good to have ) with attainable goals.
X Factor and Britain's Got Talent and the mind-blowingly rich celebrity lifestyles of football players and sports personalities make them believe that anyone can be anything and that all things are possible.
Ask teenagers today what they want to so when they grow up and they say "to be rich or famous."
And why not? They see the " from rags to riches," stories all the time on television and social media.
With all the " Big Brother," style programmes they watch nobodies become somebodies overnight.
But the trouble is, while many of them believe it's very likely that it can happen to them, the truth is, that it's extremely unlikely.
Most of us will become neither very rich nor very famous.
Most of us will just carry on living our every-day-lives in our every-day-worlds with our every-day achievements.
Dreams are good, false hope is dangerous.
Because when reality bites, it really hurts.
Studying, going to work, spending time with your friends, falling in love, creating a life for yourself, working out where you fit in this unpredictable world......all that means nothing.
What used to make us feel proud now makes us feel like failures.
We are beginning to forget that the smallest of things can often be the biggest of achievements.
Outside I meet our next door neighbour, bent double, the result of a crumbling spine.
He walks painfully slowly using two walking sticks.
With difficulty he lifts his head and smiles at me.
"I walked all the way to the end of the road today," he says, " I couldn't do that last week."
I watch him shuffle into his house, each step a success story, radiating a sense of achievement that is almost tangible.
And I think perhaps that's how we should all of us measure our achievements - one small, completed step at a time.
From the other side of our garden fence, a newer neighbour grins at me.
" I've been waiting to tell you Becky," she says, " I did it! "
" Did what?" I ask.
"The ultra-marathon," she says, " 50 miles up and down a mountain, non-stop."
I remember how exhausted I feel when I run to the corner shop.
" Did someone make you do it?" I ask.
She laughs.
" Of course not. I wanted to."
" Did you?" I say "Why?"
She shrugs
" To see if I could."
I think of all the things I try doing, just to see if I can.
Going a whole day without eating any chocolate - maybe.
Going a whole morning without shouting at the kids - sometimes.
Spend a whole day in my pyjamas - definitely.
But running an ultra-marathon - never.
I am full of incomprehension.
" So now you know you can do it," I say, "that's enough right? I mean, it's a once in a lifetime thing really isn't it? If that.."
But already I can see the glimmer in her eye.
" Well....." she says, " there's another one in September and it would have been better if
I'd trained more....and it took me 22 hours. I think I could do it faster."
And that's the thing about achievement - the sense of it is so often fleeting.
What we achieve today can often seem like nothing tomorrow.
Today's mountain is tomorrow's hill.
Today's end of the road is tomorrow's corner to turn.
But even if that's true, we haven't failed, we've still won.
Because for one day at least, we know that we did it.
The problem is that we often don't let ourselves bask in a sense of achievement.
We feel that it's wrong to congratulate ourselves.
Instead we convince ourselves that what we've achieved isn't enough, that the goal we set ourselves wasn't hard enough, that we haven't dreamed big enough, that no one else has even noticed.
And often they haven't
But that shouldn't lessen our sense of achievements.
When our neighbour puts down his walking sticks and sinks into an armchair, all that matters is that he knows what he has achieved.
When an ultra-marathon runner wakes up the next day with aching knees, the victory is all theirs.
And that's all that matters.
The knowledge that you did it.
It's easy to have regrets in life, easy to remember all things we haven't done rather than to celebrate all the things we have.
It's easy to minimise our achievements and diminish their importance.
Walking to the end of the road, running up a mountain, making your Down's Syndrome daughter believe she has the world at her fingertips - they are all greater, more personal and more long-lasting achievements than any transitory fame brought to you by one electronically enhanced pop song.
So forget winning X-Factor or Britain's Got Talent.
Forget making millions or writing a masterpiece.
Instead, start celebrating the every day achievements, however small or personal.
They are what keeps our ordinary worlds turning.
And I'm thinking....today's bar of chocolate will be tomorrow's delicious memory.
