I once drove Bert from his home in Greenwich, south London, to Snape Maltings in Suffolk, where we were running a study weekend. (Walter Pardon came down to sing in the final Sunday afternoon concert.) We hadn't been long on the road before Bert started telling me about his time in Australia. I now suspect that some of the stories might have been slightly exaggerated, but, boy, could he tell a tale! He really was a natural storyteller.