Installed in my home, Bert is a conversation starter like no other. It usually begins with: ‘What on earth is that thing?’
I came across something that makes me happy every day. It’s a figurine of a cheery chef chap holding up a menu board in one hand and giving a big thumbs up with the other. I found it in a reclamation yard in Old Hill in the Black Country. It’s run by a bloke called Bert, who’s very funny in a bone-dry kind of way. The first time I met him he told me he was also a West Brom fan and asked me about our poor season. I told him I couldn’t face discussing them. Half an hour later, as I was negotiating a price for something, I asked him if there was a discount for West Brom fans. He looked at me and said, “You didn’t want to talk about them a minute ago.” There was no discount.
Anyway, I decided to name my chef statue after him. Technically I suppose it’s more of a statuette but that’s a bit feminine-sounding for Bert. I was charmed by Bert – both Berts, actually, but here I refer to the statue – the moment I saw him but, as is the way of these things, I didn’t buy him because, you know, where do you put such an object? A week or two passed, though, and his cheeky little face kept coming to mind. So I went back to buy Bert from Bert and he was mine. And mine he will remain until death doth us part.
