Alex Wynn is one of the first people I met and liked when I started "studying" at Canterbury University. He and I have a mutual interest in making teensy-tiny models of aircraft, especially World War One aircraft, and are bound thereby into an eternal rivalry which will extend to the uttermost depths of time as to who will go the furthest towards obsessive madness when it comes to detailing the blasted things. I think he's winning. In fact, I'm sure of it.
LX has spent a long time writing a thesis about Dead Philosophers And Their Effect On This And That. Or rather, he's spent a long time moaning and groaning a lot about writing his thesis, when he's not out breaking his wrists rollerblading.
Now (Feb 2001) he's scampered off into the sunset and has gone off to make his fortune in the Golden Land of Opportunity (or The Pits Of Hell At The Ends Of The Earth, as Wellington is also known). Yet another traitor leaves the sinking ship, and my circle of congenial friends shrinks a little more. Bugger.