Yesterday was one of those days.
The kind that looks wonderful on the outside, but carries quiet weight underneath. The kind that stays with you long after you’ve unpacked the car, made a cup of tea, and sat down to process it all.
We spent the day at Anglesey Circuit as guests of Mission Motorsport, a charity that supports veterans through motorsport, confidence, and community. On the surface, it was exciting, inspiring, and full of noise and movement. But for us, and especially for Andy, it was something much deeper.
Three years ago, Andy was at rock bottom. After 27 years in the army and then 16 years in civil aviation, everything he thought defined him fell away. His mental health suffered badly. What slowly helped him begin to find his way back was going out into the garage and making things. Not with a plan. Not to sell. Just making. Using scrap. Old aviation parts. Bits and pieces with stories of their own.
Those “things” became robots. And those robots became the Berts.
One of them is BertoLotty.
Yesterday, watching Andy stand there talking about BertoLotty, what he’s made from, why those parts matter, and how creating helps his mental health filled me with a pride I struggle to put into words. Days like this are still a big thing for him. They take effort. Courage. Emotional energy. But he stood up and spoke about something he loves, and he did it so well.
What struck me most was how people responded. Veterans, engineers, motorsport people. They didn’t just glance and move on. They stopped. They leaned in. They asked questions. They understood, instinctively, that this wasn’t just a sculpture. It was a story. A process. A way of coping. A way of rebuilding.
To hear such genuine admiration for Andy’s work meant everything. His art being seen and respected matters more than any sale ever could. Maybe it helps him believe a little more, quietly and steadily, that he really is an artist.
One moment that will stay with me forever was seeing Andy with Chris Harris (of Top Gear fame) Andy has been an avid fan for years, watching him on TV, so meeting him in person was already special. But to then have Chris take Andy around the circuit, and afterwards show such genuine admiration for BertoLotty, meant the world. That kind of respect, coming from someone Andy has long admired, lands deeply. It stays.
We donated BertoLotty to Mission Motorsport, and he will now be auctioned or raffled to help raise funds for this remarkable charity. Being able to give something that came from Andy’s own journey to help other veterans feels incredibly meaningful to us. There is something powerful about that circle. Making something from scrap that goes on to support others who are finding their way back.
Mission Motorsport does extraordinary work. Not loudly. Not with fuss. But with care, understanding, and deep respect for the people they support. Thank you to James Cameron and everyone behind the scenes who made us feel so welcome. What you do matters more than you probably realise.
Days like yesterday remind me what sits at the heart of Weebert’s World.
It’s about making. About imagination. About turning what you already have into something meaningful. It’s about scrap becoming story. About creativity helping us heal. About permission to play, explore, and create, not just for children, but for grown-ups too.
Weebert might be small, no bigger than a can of beans, but the world around him is built on these moments. On belief. On care. On the idea that making something with your hands can help you find your feet again.
Yesterday was awe-inspiring. Emotional. Humbling. And deeply affirming.
Some days really do mean more than others.
with love
Lotty x
