A few weeks ago, something remarkable happened.
After seeing us on the Jeremy Vine Show, Wilfred Emmanuel-Jones, The Black Farmer himself, opened a door. He invited us to explore the chance of selling our Bert sculptures through his White City store.
It was one of those moments that doesn’t feel quite real at first. But it was.
Of course, I wanted to know more about this man. About why he’d chosen us. About what he saw.
So I read his book.
And it floored me.
Wilfred grew up in inner-city Birmingham. I grew up on a council estate in Leeds. He had dreams of farming. I had dreams of writing stories. He was told he wouldn’t amount to much. I was told I had too much imagination for my own good. Neither of us was expected to make it big. Not on paper, anyway. But that’s where our paths part.
He took risks. He embraced jeopardy.
He got himself into television, and eventually, through sheer belief, grit and determination, bought his farm.
I didn’t. Not then.
I lived a cautious, careful life. I was risk-averse for decades. Steady jobs, steady choices. Andy and I lived in military housing and then rented our home, raised our family, kept things safe. Safe felt responsible. Safe was how we survived.
But at the age of 60, everything changed.
Andy had a breakdown.
It cracked us wide open, and through the crack, something surprising came in.
He began creating robots out of scrap, not for a business, not for anyone else, just for himself. Something in those tiny sculptures made from old helicopter parts and clock springs started to speak to me.
They told stories.
I wrote them down.
And before we knew it, Weebert’s World was born.
We never intended to build a brand. We never expected to pitch to investors or chase a dream of stop-motion animation. But once we started, we couldn’t stop.
And now, here we are.
In our 60s.
Living with jeopardy.
Taking creative risks.
Being brave in ways we never imagined.
Wilfred’s book didn’t just resonate, it reminded me that it’s never too late to back yourself. It’s never too late to take the risk that feels like yours. To stop playing small just because the world told you to.
We don’t know where this will lead, selling the Berts in White City, pitching Weebert’s World for children’s TV, hoping one day that our little scrap-built robots will live in children’s hearts across the country or even the world.
But what we do know is this: we’re in it.
All in.
Jeopardy and all.
Thank you, Wilfred, for opening the door.
And thank you to every single person cheering us on as we walk through it.
Lotty & Andy xx
— founders of Weebert’s World
— dreamers who are just getting started
