I am livid, madam, absolutely livid!
How dare you subject me – Lieutenant Bertie Brimthorne of the 2nd Company of the Ordnance Survey Battalion to this indignity? I have my reputation to consider! I am a gentleman, ma’am, but you are no lady.
I presume, Bertie, this outburst has been triggered by your discovery that I printed a few, um, photographs of you on my Facebook page.
‘A few photographs’ you say? Will you attempt to deny that one of these images showed me completely unclothed, woman?
Well, yes, certainly one does depict you au naturel, Bertie, dear, but it’s only there to show the followers the transformation that occurred as you took on your current resplendent form. I’m quite delighted with your present appearance, and so should you be.
Followers? Who are these followers? You mean others are able to view this dreadful photographic image? Madam, you are quite shameless!
In my fearless journeys through the darkest and most impenetrable parts of the planet and beyond, I have – on several occasions – encountered indigenous persons in a certain state of undress. However, I would never sink so low as to obtain visual images of such people, far less to broadcast them to all and sundry. I only wish you had seen fit to afford me similar courtesy.
Well I apologise for any embarrassment my actions have caused you. I’m afraid the workings of my dimension must feel quite alien to you, Bertie. Social media has rather taken over here, in much the way that steam and clockwork have taken over where you are from.
Well to my way of thinking, you’d be far better off with steam power and our ingenious mechanical devices. Fiddling endlessly with those strange little glass boxes of yours – it isn’t healthy! I trust that your photographs for this piece will be of a more appropriate nature.
Of course they will, my dear Bertie. And unless any readers take it upon themselves to visit that Facebook page, they will be none the wiser.
Hmmpf. And what are you doing now? Why have those three words there turned blue? What mischief are you up to, woman?
Just fancied a change of colour, Bertie. Black can be so dull. Now why don’t you share some of your daring exploits with our readers?
No time. I’m off to Mongolithania first thing tomorrow morning and I need to check my supplies. I’ll bid you good day, madam.
I haven’t yet broken it to Bertie that he will probably end up for sale at the Steampunk Dolls House. I may need to broach the subject rather cautiously. Meanwhile, feel free to head over there and meet some of the other characters: http://www.etsy.com/uk/shop/SteampunkDollsHouse
Now this is the technology I feel most comfortable with – the glorious make-do-and-mend in which quite humdrum objects are cunningly combined and formed into wondrous contrivances (in time-honoured steampunk style, I feel).
As for contrivance, well don’t let her know that I’ve shared this information with you – heaven knows what she’d say – but the stick of her parasol was fashioned from a cotton bud stick, covered in copper tape (sold to gardeners as a slug repellent). The shade itself was moulded over the cap of a roll-on deodorant – lace and garden wire struts stiffened with PVA glue, before being covered and trimmed with fabric and lace. A few beads were added top and bottom, and her accessory was complete.
“I assure you, Miss Templemann, I would not dream of doing anything so ungentlemanly. All I have told you is the truth. I was crossing the Northern Sea in my airship, when a huge green tentacle appeared from far below and, as I explained, rendered most of my arm useless.”
Grace gave a throaty laugh. “Good gracious no! I asked Oscar to build me this dart launcher so that I might protect myself from attack when I embark on my expedition to darkest Africa. One simply can’t be too careful. I’ve been wearing it for a month and he is due to make any necessary adjustments before my departure on Saturday. But tell me more about your device. It looks most tremendously complicated.”
Grace is also available at the Steampunk Dolls House and can be found here: 
The lovely Alice can be found at this link: 
Allow me to introduce myself – Miss Delores Mayfeather.
I was delighted to discover a female photographer – such a pleasant change from those rough-spoken men – and this lady was both polite and a master of her craft.
Alex, the young adventurer whom regular readers last met on an airship journey 
James, a debonair gentleman carrying a telescope and sporting a very unusual monocle – are about to embark on a new adventure.
As promised, the first of the steampunk-themed rooms has now joined the items for sale at the Steampunk Dolls House shop on Etsy UK.
Professor Erasmus, in his black and gold smoking jacket and cap, stands, deep in thought, staring into the domed scrying glass set into his bench. Ancient books, contraptions and receptacles of various kinds surround him or lie on shelf behind him. An elaborate system of chains and pulleys hang from the ceiling and above the wooden wall panelling, the cogs that control various clockwork mechanisms can be glimpsed.
The scrying room was created by Matt, the shop’s owner, while Erasmus was made here in my workshop, to Matt’s specifications.
Here’s a rare picture of Amelia with her identical twin sister Leonora. When I first met them they both looked exactly like Leonora (left).
So here she is – a fearless flyer and expert mechanic. She may be petite and blonde, but she’s the equal of any other aviator and is happy to strip down an engine with the best of them.
As for Leonora, she must have been inspired by her sister. Following a very unpromising start as a dolls’ house housewife, she ended up as a renowned explorer, travelling the world with her glass astro-chronometer. Her unusual goggles have integrated clockwork dart-launchers. I wish I had the skill to make them work!
Meet Bella, one of my favourite steampunk creations.
Bella was adamant, though. She wanted a mask.
Tiny coils of brass wire formed the eye spaces and cheekbones. Minute cogs and chains were stitched into the spaces, and there was Bella’s mask.
“Mongolia?” repeated Mercurius, his eyebrows almost vanishing beneath his flying helmet.
“There’s no need to squawk in that manner, young man,” Algy responded. “Your advertisement in the Gentleman’s Weekly stated that you would carry any cargo to any destination with no questions asked. Yet you pester me with questions!”
Somewhat unwillingly, Mercurius picked up the casket and attached it to the lanyard beneath his greatcoat. He hung the key beside it. Algernon handed him the envelope stuffed with banknotes.
As the door closed behind Mercurius, Algy picked up his Device and cradled it fondly in his arms.
Steampunk - Shrunk! 