It’s a tiny room – just 8 inches wide by 6 inches high, and a mere 3 inches deep when the case is closed. As it’s at 1:12 scale, that equates to the same number of feet in our measurements.
That suits her ladyship very well, though. She can withdraw to this secluded space and make her plans in private.
As her songbird warbles mournfully above her and the light of her lamp flickers on the table, she puts down her parasol, loosens her corset, sits on the leather-upholstered chair and takes up her journal and pen.
Her ladyship has a dream. She wishes to become a tinkerer. Certainly there are social mores which frown upon such behaviour from a lady in her position, but she finds following her husband and his acquaintances around the grounds, while chatting politely to their dull little wives, incredibly tiresome.
She has persuaded one of the gardeners to tutor her in the rudiments of welding and metalwork, and by patiently dismantling clockwork machinery, she is teaching herself to build simple gadgets. The lamp was one of her first. It’s simple, but effective, switching on when the attached clock shows that dusk has fallen.
Her latest invention sits on the shelves beside her chair. It is a jewel-encrusted mechanical insect which scuttles about the room. Certainly it isn’t yet perfected, but the one thing her ladyship’s life has taught her is endless patience.
There is a short video tour of the room on my Instagram feed. Can’t load it here, for some reason.
The room has attracted considerable interest and several people have expressed a wish to buy it. If it doesn’t sell, it will be on my craft stall in Glastonbury on June 17th, as will copies of her ladyship’s journal.
I am Bjørn. People call me Heart of Glass. People pity me. Or they are fearful. Or disgusted. A few show curiosity tinged with admiration.
I encountered Doctor Kopp when he saved my life. I was a boiler-man on an icebreaker in the Northern seas. For long, long shifts I shovelled coal into the great, ravenous furnace that powered the ship. The owners worked me hard and my body – always thin and long and rather weak – was close to breaking point.
Finally the day arrived! My dear guardian, Uncle Razzy as I call him, has allowed us to celebrate our wedding in his glorious cliff-top mansion. Not only that; he gave us two wonderful presents, both invented and built by himself.
He knows I’ve always loved the stars and planets, so he made us a clockwork orrery, encased in a glass dome. He also knew that my dear husband (how strange it feels to use that word!) is fascinated by the idea of remote communication, so his second gift to us was a telephonic device – also clockwork, naturally – that will enable us to speak to him from anywhere in the world. My Beloved insists that this is just the start and one day everyone will have one of these devices and be able to talk together from all corners of the earth.
I dare say you’re longing to see our wedding finery, so here’ is a picture of us about to enjoy a goblet of Uncle Razzy’s finest wine after the ceremony.
When I looked, I simply couldn’t believe my eyes! The most beautiful airship you can imagine was coming closer and closer. At first I simply thought it was a happy coincidence that the pilot should choose that very moment to fly past our window. But no! My wonderful husband assured me that we were due to embark on this exquisite vessel and fly off together into the sunset. This was the honeymoon surprise he had been teasing me with over the past few weeks.
Oh yes, I’ve been tinkering around in airships since I was a boy. Had an uncle, don’t you know, who owned one and allowed me to go along on some of his journeys. Goodness me, they were rough old machines in those days! I remember having to move the rudder by manhandling a length of wire. Cut your hands to ribbons, that did. So I fixed up a little device that linked directly to the compass and the anemometer. Far better. The old boy saw what I’d done and was pretty impressed; kept me on as crew.
I thoroughly enjoy tinkering with the machinery even now. Just take a look at my clockwork air-pressure measurement device here. Dashed proud of that, if I say it myself.
I commissioned that woman – Mrs Steampunkle, or whatever she calls herself these days – to make me a new leather coat and helmet. Made a dashed fine job of it in my opinion. Good and thick with the fleece collar. It can be bitter when you’re flying over Cape Horn, don’t y’know.
Vell I ask you, if you were to come into possession of an ancient grimoire vhich contained (along wiz ze normal recipes for creating ze philosophers’ stone und cures for varts) a spell entitled ‘How to Traverse Time’, vouldn’t you be a little intrigued? Vouldn’t you give up a successful career to explore ze secrets it offers?
I had a huge laboratory, back in zose days. Mechanical construction vas my bread-und-butter. Alvays zer ver young men vanting automatons, adjustments to zer contraptions and votnots. Fraulein Vorzington, my young assistant, vas quite excellent at such sings. I left her to it. For me, reading ancient texts vas far more important. I had zis strong feeling zat vun day, I vould discover zat for vich I searched. Und here it is – ein dusty old volume, standing on my small table in my tiny, dark garret. Viz zis book, I vill conquer time itself!
Then, of course, there is the doctor himself, with his plasma- and aether-sensitive binocular eyepiece, not to mention the infamous grimoire. 
The Case of the Alchemist’s Study will be on display on my stall at the Glastonbury Craft and Vintage Fair on Saturday 29th April, 2017. Other Steampunk – Shrunk figures, rooms and accessories are available at Rune Smith of Glastonbury, at 1 Monarch Way, off Glastonbury High Street and online at t
Good day, Sir and Madam.
I have to say, I’m delighted with my small emporium. Don’t you just love the medicine cabinet? It was a generous gift from my dear friend Lady Grace and is ideally suited to my storage and display needs. Oh, pray do not touch the scales, Madam. They are most carefully balanced with a potion I was preparing for her ladyship when you arrived.
I’m very pleased, too, with my counter, which I put together myself from some iron and wood my cousin Amelia had left over from building a steam engine.
“Steampunked?” snorted the gentleman. “What kind of word is that? I don’t like the sound of it one little bit. Nor does my good lady wife or our maidservant, either. We are respectable people, I’ll have you know. ”
Their gasps as they saw his glass buttoned cotton lawn shirt and brocade waistcoat suggested that I might be winning the argument. They noticed the gold watch chain and stared in amazement as I pulled his fob watch from the satin-trimmed waistcoat pocket. Next I took the brass binoculars from his neck for them to examine and emptied the contents of his inch long leather shoulder bag on to the table. 
There was a folded, rather battered set of engineering plans, the pipe Isambard can never bear to be without and a tiny leather pouch containing tobacco (made from shredded leather).
Hi, I’m Ruby. They’ve asked me to explain to you what steampunk is, because loads of people are like, ‘What’s that?’
Those old stories I was talking about, yeah? Well they had all sorts of terrifying monsters and stuff that the heroes had to battle against with their amazing steam-powered weapons, so steampunk is into that, too. Loads of the guys go and buy nerf guns and do them up so they’re metallic and look really awesome, to protect themselves against all the evil stuff. I know – bit weird – but boys and their toys, y’know?
I got into it when I read Northern Lights. That’s by Philip Pullman and it’s what The Golden Compass film is based on, but I liked the book better. And now there are loads of good steampunk writers about and we have conventions and festivals and balls and everything. You might want to try reading stories by Nimue Brown or Phoebe Darqueling or go to some blogs like 
Steampunk - Shrunk! 