He was a talented artist- very good at copying things- but lacking drive and imagination. His insecurities made him spiky and snobbish. He should have become an art historian, but then he found religion- and walked out on his thesis because his supervisor wouldn't let him make it all about Jesus. Our paths recrossed in early middle age (just as I was getting without religion) and he preached at me and I told him to fuck off (sort of). He floats around in the shallows of the art world (I think there's private money) and has work visible on the internet. He is an aesthete, a Sunday painter and a gentleman.
Most of us were only playing at student politics but she was a true believer. I admired her fixity of purpose. She took a job teaching sociology and women's studies at a Northern university and is still there- only now she's also president of a trades union that represents workers in academe. She is essentially the person she always was. She hasn't even changed her hairstyle.
I like to think I've skidded about all over the place in my life, but perhaps my contemporaries would look at where I am now and say, "Well, we're not surprised."