Continuing with my series on what’s available at Steampunk-Shrunk, this week I’d like to highlight the Cabinets of Curiosities.
Of all the things made here, I think the gadgets and gizmos are my favourites. I love scouring charity shops, discount stores, eBay and so forth for tiny weird bits and pieces I can upcycle, combine and transform in wild and wonderful ways. Inevitably, I was ending up with a mass of very fragile tiny steampunk gadgets, whose purpose I could only guess at. A few found their way into the room boxes or the hands of my characters, but Charles Tradescant here decided to collect the rest together into wooden cabinets.
The ones available at the moment are all this style (left and above) – about 8 inches/20cm tall and 6 inches/ 15cm wide, freestanding and made of wood, with a perspex window, ten compartments and a decorative fastening catch.
I suppose they would fit into a tall dolls’ house, but they really look their best as freestanding ornaments on shelves or mantelpieces, where the intricate and eclectic contents can be viewed. Each is completely unique, with a glorious mixture of books and letters, art works, specimens in jars, skulls, shells and other natural objects as well as the intriguing steampunk contraptions. All are glued down, to preserve the sanity of the owner, but with moderate pressure they can usually be detached.
There will be three cabinets available at our next stall (Thame Dolls House and Miniatures Fair on Saturday 17th Feb 2018) at £45 each. They can also be purchased online, with postage and packing extra, although a few items may need to be glued down again on arrival, so have some superglue handy.
Please use the contact form at the bottom of the HOME page on this site if you’d like to know more.
Greetings to all from the grey, damp and murky land of Avalon, where life, myth and mystery combine curiously amongst the swirling mists (well, actually thundering hail storms at the moment, but that’s a temporary glitch, I’m sure).
Messrs Crackington and Balsover are busily creating an emporium filled with a host of cunning contrivances and devious devices, which will be available for purchase at our forthcoming sales.
Over the next few weeks, we will be highlighting more of the delights you can expect to discover on the Steampunk-Shrunk stalls which will be appearing around the land.
I, Ebenezer Crackington, am by trade a clockmaker. I have worked at this trade since I completed my apprenticeship in the beautiful city of Paris, France, many years ago, at the age of twenty-two.
I commenced by using a double bell for the alarm mechanism, with a strong beater which alternated between the two. I then constructed a large claxon, which I fashioned from a trombone horn, which moved about in a haphazard and suitably alarming fashion when activated.
Since I was concerned that the 
George Entwhistle, a patents clerk by day, had always enjoyed tinkering. The trouble was, tinkering could be a somewhat noisy activity. Living as he did in a terraced property, he had to contend with frequent complaints from neighbours and visits from members of the constabulary.
Imagine George’s surprise and delight as he discovered a further door at the base, which opened quite easily, revealing a large cellar!
From that day onward, George worked to transform the cellar into a tinker’s workshop. He extended the heating pipes downwards to power a boiler, which not only heated the workshop, but allowed him to brew a much-needed cup of tea from time to time. He constructed a doorbell with a wire connecting it to the front of his house, so that callers could be heard. He made himself a shelf and workbench and even installed a clock and mirror. The result was a commodious and most agreeable work space. George was a happy man.
As you can see, his contraption is well underway, and he’s able to fire it up for short periods.
I’d more or less given up, when I opened a draw and found some of these little creatures, bought in last year’s January sales, peering hopefully up at me.
Idly I began twisting wire around needles to form coils and threading them with whatever came to hand – vintage beads from an old necklace, cog wheels and watch parts, bells, charms and even miniature teapots. 
The copper coils were bent and twisted at crazy angles and the weird, dangling objects that emerged were hung from lengths of ribbon.
So I was staring at this gorgeous picture on Instagram – yes, this one here – and thinking how much I’d like to create something like it. Now I don’t have a soldering iron or any other metal-working skills or equipment. My woodworking ability stops at cutting up coffee stirrers and lolly sticks with a junior hacksaw. In fact, I’m strictly a glue-and-cardboard person if I need to make anything rigid. It didn’t look particularly hopeful.
First there was much measuring, pattern cutting and trial and error with some nice brown card I had lying about. Next each piece was lined with card-backed fabric in a subdued floral pattern and the centre part of the body was glued in place. It looked roughly the right shape.
It was at around this point that the vehicle’s name came to me. In Shakespeare’s A Winter’s Tale, there’s a character called Autolycus. He describes himself as ‘A snapper-up of unconsidered trifles’ and that is exactly what this vehicle was becoming. A spring from a ballpoint pen, the stick from a cotton bud, several small rubber washers, along with beads, chains, charms and jump rings from my junk jewellery collection all went into it. So The Autolycus it would be.
Obviously it lacks the beautiful clean lines of the vehicle that inspired it, but I’m not unhappy with the overall result and I’m sure the ladies and gents at Steampunk-Shrunk will be rather interested in this strange vehicle, despite the fact that it’s the steampunk equivalent of a smart car and only the skinniest and most agile contortionist would be able to get inside and steer the thing. 
My pa made the bird. He’s Mister William Forsey and when I grow up, I’m going to be just like him – a tinker as well as a showman. My name is Rufus, by the way. I’m ten years old and I have a very important job. I run the Magical Mechanical Bird Show in the little fairground booth my pa built.
The ticket office is too small for Ma or Pa to get inside, but I fit just fine. When I grow too big, one of my brothers or sisters will have to take over and I’ll get on with learning my pa’s craft. Pa’s proud of me. He wrote ‘Wm. Forsey & Son’ on the poster, so I’d be part of the company. Some day we’ll have a whole load of automatons and people will come from all over the world to watch and wonder at them.
First thing I have to do is wind up the machine and check that it’s all working smoothly. Pa says I’m a natural when it comes to knowing where a lick of oil should go or what bolts to tighten. You see? I’ve got tinker’s blood in me veins. I’ll make wonderful contraptions when I’m older.
Next I pull the curtain across, so the bird’s hidden and go out the front to tout for business. All the ladies love me and they beg their beaus to buy a ticket. Ma says it’s on account of my fair hair and big eyes. I think it’s more likely my witty patter that draws ’em in.
Anyhow, once I’ve got a good crowd, I go into the ticket office and sell them all tickets to watch the show. I have to keep the office locked all day, so no one will steal our takings. Ma took the chain from Grandpa’s old watch and fixed the office key to it, so I can wear it on me waistcoat, just like a toff! Real silk, that waistcoat is, and me trousers are pa’s old moleskins cut down. They’re a bit on the roomy side, but I’ll grow into them.
I call out, very loud, “And now, Ladies and Gentlemen, for your delight and delectation, the Magical Mechanical Bird will come to life before your very eyes and ears.”
Algernon lifted his telescope to his eye and scanned the horizon. Just one small smudge of grey over Middlesex. It was high in the sky. A less practised eye would have missed it altogether, or mistaken it for a wisp of cloud.
Panic broke out on the vessel and men ran helplessly hither and thither. They knew – every black-hearted villain of them – that nothing, let alone their old rust-bucket of a ship, could withstand the weapon now fixed of upon them.
“Well jolly good show,” smiled the lady. “I’ll go straight away and prepare some tea for all hands. And I’m sure I can find some particularly delicious cake as well. You boys certainly deserve it!”
At this moment, Josephine rushed up and warmly embraced her brother-in-law.
“Pah! Loads of lovely ladies over there!” returned Harvey. “They have a whale of a time. As for this old place – sell it up and start afresh. You’ll make your fortune. Nothing to lose.”
If anything, these words made me more apprehensive than I had previously been. As I alighted from the contraption and the smoke from its boiler began to clear, I saw a figure who could only be Lord Horatio standing beside a rusting collection of gears and machine parts. Despite my determination to maintain a calm demeanour, I have to admit that I gasped – or possibly squealed slightly.
His words were friendly enough, though it was difficult to read his expression, since the vast majority of his face was covered, either by his enormous moustache or by the huge monocle he wore.
“What do you think of that?” he demanded, his voice bursting with pride as he threw open the door.
Blades are razor sharp, though. My gardeners tell me the cut he gives is second to none.”
Steampunk - Shrunk! 