Did I hear a squeal emit from your lips, Gertrude?
“Yes, you most certainly did! And with good reason! I’ve just received the most extraordinary letter.”
Have you now? Do tell us more.
“It’s from a lord! A genuine lord! It has his coat of arms at the top and his name and address (a very prestigious address) in curly writing embossed beneath it. And – oh! – he says the most astonishing things about me.”
I think you’d better share the contents of this letter with us, Gertie dear.
My dear Miss Jekyllton-Smythe,
No doubt you will be somewhat surprised to hear from me. Allow me to introduce myself: I am Horatio, the fifth Lord Backgammon, of Charlton Regis. I have a rather interesting project, with which I would be most honoured if you felt able to assist me.
You came to my attention through a friend who dabbles in temporal transportation – a ‘time traveller’ in common parlance. His favourite era is the first half of the twentieth century, upon which he has become something of an expert. Henry tells me that in that time, you are a lady of some renown. In fact he says you are the most sought-after garden designer in this nation of ours and have published some quite excellent books on the subject. Obviously, this will be news to you, since we have not had the privilege of visiting the future, but no doubt you will greet the information with some delight.
Now to the purpose: I have, in my grounds, a small piece of land known as ‘The Board’. It was laid out by my great-great-grandfather to the dimensions of a backgammon board (a pun on the family name, obviously). Since his time, it has fallen into disrepair and I recently had it cleared. I enclose a photographic print for your perusal. Each of the two sections measures 8 x 17½ foot and is enclosed by a low wall, approximately one foot high. I would be delighted if you would agree to design and oversee the construction of a garden in this area for me.
The brief is as follows:
- The layout of the original backgammon board is to be retained, in deference to my ancestor.
- There will need to be a lake or pond of some kind, to house a pet of mine.
- I should like a small glasshouse or orangery, since I am most partial to exotic fruits.
- Mechanical systems should be incorporated wherever possible for watering, grass-cutting etcetera. I will gladly undertake to design and manufacture these elements myself.
Please contact me at the above address, should you feel willing to undertake this project.
Yours very sincerely,
Backgammon
“Just imagine! I’m to become famous! And successful! And – well certainly it’s a very small space – but what an exciting proposal. So much more entertaining and creative than designing red, white and blue bedding plant displays in municipal parks, as I do at the moment.”
Certainly it is an interesting project, Gertie. Congratulations. I wonder what sort of aquatic pet his lordship owns…
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.
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.
Hello. It is me, Bjørn again. I was telling you in 
“If you ver villing, though, zis could be altered. Wat if I ver to offer you a new heart and a new brain? You have seen ze marvels I can do. It would be ze most glorious experiment, in ze name of Science! If you ver villing, you could become a showcase of mein art! Your mechanised brain and heart on display for all to see ze vunders of ze clockverk body. You could achieve anything once zese adjustments had been made. You’d be as great as me. Maybe greater…”
Eagerly I agreed. My weak heart, which had almost killed me once, would be replaced with a dependable clockwork mechanism, encased in a glass dome, so that all could wonder at its strength, and at my master’s skill. I would be a walking advertisement for his abilities. He explained less about the alterations to my brain, but I was led to understand that my ability to learn, to reason and to imagine would be considerably enhanced.
Certainly now my mind and heart are stronger, keener than they were. I can work harder, faster, better and I hold information and make deductions at lightning speed. All this, the Doctor expected. Perhaps he feared it slightly. Yet he found a way to maintain his dominance.
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.
I rather regret my – um – outburst now. I confess I hadn’t realised the amount of work that goes into sewing a tailcoat – especially at 1/12 scale. The seamstress grew quite angry. She showed me the number of darts (never knew darts were used in sewing) and the intricacies of lining the tails and collar, and all with those huge clumsy fingers of hers. I was anxious, though. 
Only three days to the wedding, and there I was in my shirtsleeves, waving my watch at her and demanding that she finish the jacket quickly. After all, she still had my hat and goggles to make.
“We almost sold the engine room,” announced the young man who runs one of the shops (the physical one) I supply, when I wandered in with some new stock last week.
The responses were many and various! Many iconised likes, loves and wows. The comments ranged from the singularly unhelpful ‘Dress her in black!!’, through ‘What IS steampunk?’ to one person who solicitously explained the difference between cogs and fly wheels as she thought I must be confused. As I had hoped and expected, though, many of the kind and lovely people took time to suggest extras and modifications that would help me to fulfil the brief.
The veil – their collected wisdom told me – had to go. The headdress had to include (oh shudder and groan at the dreary cliché!) a top hat, and possibly goggles. The bouquet needed to be bigger and bolder, the bodice more decorated and – at her waist – either a pouch or (I loved this idea) a chatelaine.
So, having added several necklace chains worth of metalwork, a (heavily disguised) kid leather hat and gone along with the other ideas – except the dratted goggles; I have my pride! – I reposted my altered little lady.
Well if that person is reading this, they might like to take a trip over to the 
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.
Steampunk - Shrunk! 