This morning, the kitchen table was set up perfectly for stop-motion.
The backdrop was backdropping.
The engineer’s chest of drawers was looking suitably warm and characterful in all its faded glory.
Little empty yellow pots of vintage glue were adding their cheerful pop of colour.
Copper wire was scattered in just the right amount of chaos.
The old loom shuttle, sleek and shaped like it was born to race, was centre stage, waiting for its cue.
(And just as a side note… what is a loom shuttle, really? I had to look it up when we first found it in a box of bits. Turns out, about 100 years ago it was flying back and forth across giant industrial looms, weaving fabric in noisy, hot Yorkshire mills. Now? It’s the perfect body for an autobert. Life’s funny like that.)
Everything was ready. Except me.
Because as much as I wanted to film a new stop-motion scene to go with Weebert’s Hide and Seek with a Dinosaur (yes, that’s a real story, and yes, it’s as daft and joyful as it sounds), I knew I had to focus on something else.
The business plan.
The appendices.
The pitch bible for Weebert’s World.
There’s a meeting with Hannah Saunders (of Dragon’s Den fame … the most faultless pitch ever….) on Thursday all about traction, and as much as I’d rather be nudging Bert arms a millimetre at a time, today needed to be a head-down, admin-heavy kind of day.
I love my meetings with Hannah, I always come away feeling refreshed, focused, and like I’ve borrowed a little of her insight and calm. But to get the most from it, I knew I had to lay the groundwork today.
I’ll be honest, I felt a bit resentful.
The sun was streaming through the window. I’m at my best in the mornings. And at 61, I have to work with my energy, not against it. My brain just doesn’t fire the same way it did at 41, and I’m learning to be OK with that.
But I also sat in the wrong chair (again). Our dining chairs look lovely, but they weren’t designed for long-haul business planning. By 11.30, my bum had gone numb. By noon, I’d moved my mug of (Yorkshire) tea three times and still forgotten to drink it. And that glorious little scene I’d set up? Still untouched.
And to be fair, today’s admin backlog was entirely my own fault.
I spent the weekend in the garden, hands in the earth, chatting with Andy, potting up plants and letting my brain breathe. Then Monday, I spent most of the day helping my dear friend, she’s 91, with her trip into town and a bit of life admin. She’s wonderful company and I wouldn’t have traded that time for anything. But it does mean the business work shifted to today.
But here’s the truth I keep coming back to:
Some days, the table is a studio.
Some days, it’s a desk.
Some days, it’s both, and neither.
It’s the place where I write stories, answer emails, meet with networks and mentors, and sometimes just stare out of the window for five minutes hoping the answers will come. It’s where Andy screws together bits of this and that to create another Bert family member and where I wrestle with formatting footnotes in a pitch document. It’s where our grandchildren help Andy build new Berts, and it’s where I built this, this dream, this project, this world that we now call Weebert’s World.
And it reminds me that real creativity rarely looks like it does in the movies. It’s not all breakthrough moments and endless inspiration. Sometimes, it’s compromise. It’s choosing admin over animation because the long game matters too.
So, no, I didn’t get any filming done today.
But I made progress.
I kept the promise I made to myself that I’d treat Weebert’s World like the real business it is.
And I kept the dinosaur waiting just a little longer. He’ll forgive me.
You’re not alone. And you’re not off track.
💛 Subscribe to our newsletter at weebertsworld.com — we share the honest bits there too
🎥 Watch our animations (filmed right on this table): youtube.com/@weebertsworld
📬 And if you know someone else building a big dream from a small table, please send this their way
From my numb-bottomed seat to yours,
Love, Lotty x
