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Whatever happened to Perry Bacon?

Wham Careless Whisper

Image via Wikipedia

The year was 1986: George Michael had big hair and was singing with Wham! Kids all over the country were nervously sitting the new GCSE exams. Margaret Thatcher was busy fucking up the country, but took a day off to open the new M25 motorway – the biggest car park in the world. And I fell in love.

I was 19 and in the second year of my teacher training degree. Although we were affiliated to Hatfield Poly, our campus was in Watford, so us girls would bus over there on a weekend, or they’d come to us and crash on our floors. Not that any of us ever slept – we were too busy with parties and live music, end-of-term balls, country pubs and finding lurve. Who am I trying to kid? We were students. All we wanted was beer and sex.

Oh, they were halcyon days…

And smack bang in the middle of this was Perry Bacon. My First Love. Aged 18, studying chemistry and The Finer Points of Theakston’s Ale. I don’t remember how we met. Oh yes, I do. I was dating his mate, David. He was a bit of a knob, too.

Perry had ADHD, but in those days we just called it annoying. He was funny and loveable and smart. Always laughing, generally causing mayhem, and usually chucking beer. Oh yes, whenever I saw him, we’d end up in an infantile, enthusiastic beer fight. What can I say? We were kids. It was foreplay.

And each night apart we’d feed our food money into cramped campus phone booths and smile our way into the early hours, whispering our fears and breathing our dreams along the phone line.

And the funny thing was, we never once spoke about being in love. Never once said the words out loud, or acknowledged it, even. We were friends. Good friends who just couldn’t stop snogging. I bought him a huge floppy teddy bear and that’s how we communicated: ‘Come for the weekend? Theodore really misses you!’ or ‘Tell Theo I need a Bear Hug!’  

Teddy bear

Bear Hugs!

And one day, two years later, it was over. I don’t remember the details, but we were on a train travelling through London. I was crying and then he was gone. Or maybe he left, and then I cried. But there were certainly tears. And he definitely got off the train. And I’m pretty sure it was London.

I bloody loved that bloke, and I often wonder: whatever happened to Perry Bacon?


About Tiny Temper

I'm a middle-aged freelance writer living in Cornwall. And no, it's not all sun, sand and steaming pasties. I've been married, done the divorce and accidentally shrunk the tee-shirt.

8 responses »

  1. Have you never tried to look him up on Facebook or something, Ms Temper? He sounds like the type who might have emigrated to Australia.

    • What, as a convict, you mean?! Yes, over the years, I’ve tried Facebook and Friends Reunited and Google and…not that I’m an e-stalker, you understand, but I’ve never been able to find him. You always have a soft spot for your first love, or your first car – mine was a lime-green Mini 🙂 Tell me about your first love, Mr Bananas!

    • Well, Mr Lander, you made me laugh out loud before 8am. That is a massive achievement, and for that, I give thanks! As you probably know, that is not the PB of my youth, but thanks for trying 🙂

  2. Pingback: Whatever happened to Perry Bacon? (via Prince Charming, my arse!) | My Not So Fictional Life

  3. My first love was a petulant 16 year old, who was very intelligent and used to run rings around me. Her father was a psycho, which always made home visits “interesting”. There were other “qualities” that made her worth the hassle though 😉 !

    I am quite sure Perry Bacon has changed his name by now, or at least he should have.

    • She had huge boobs, didn’t she? God, You men are all the same… 😉
      It’s so funny to look back and see yourself as a teenager, but my goodness, it was fun!
      PB would sit in front of an open fire, sniff the air, and ‘Uh oh. Roast bacon!’ Used to crack me up every time 😀 Luff is blind!


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