How can we make amends for our long silence, dear Reader?
A story left unfinished, long months of isolation in our individual shielding boxes, deliveries grinding to a halt and all trade shows and fairs cancelled. Not the best of times for the Steampunk Dolls House or Steampunk-Shrunk, or, indeed, for our loyal band of followers.
Mrs S was occupied for much of the time producing PPE for local care homes and educating her grandchildren via something called video messaging. (Their desperation to return to school in the autumn attests to the limited success of that venture…)
To say we felt neglected is the greatest of understatements. And has normality returned? Certainly not. The tiny local Post Office has opened its doors again and – for those customers willing to wait days, weeks or sometimes months – a few items have been fitfully edging towards their destinations. The Magpie Vintage and Curiosities shop has reopened in Midsomer Norton and at least Mrs S now occasionally visits the workshop.
Her project for the last few weeks has been the long-forgotten Backgammon Garden. It was almost completed several years ago, but a leaning orangery and broken lawnmower meant that it lay forgotten while other tasks took precedence. Finally, she opened the vintage box once more and shook her head sadly.
“I think I can fix Draig, Penelope,” she told me. “The blades just need to be remounted.” (Draig, for those who may be wondering, is the metal dragon lawnmower who patrols the garden, keeping it neat.) “The pond will be fine with a bit of adjustment to the fountain. The standpipe needs a touch of distressing to get the patina right, but what can we do with that orangery?”
The orangery was her pride and joy when she first made it. It was intricately constructed from clear acrylic sheet and ingeniously folded flat to allow the backgammon box to be closed. Unfortunately, it didn’t spring back into position when the box was reopened, but drooped at around 45° unless one of us went and stood against it.
I thought long and hard, until a solution came to me. “We need some tall clipped orange trees in heavy pots,” I suggested. “They can be wedged into either side of the structure to hold it up when the garden is open and removed and laid flat when we wish to close it.”
“Brilliant!” cried Mrs S. “An excellent plan.”
A selection of bamboo skewers, polystyrene balls, greenery intended for model railways, mock oranges and epoxy putty was assembled, together with various paints and glues, and at last the clipped orange trees were ready. Slightly unconventional, perhaps, but maybe it isn’t the only outbuilding that is held up by its trees.
You can also see Draig, here in the foreground, restored to his original splendour.
I’m very much enjoying wandering through the grounds and communing with Octavia – my very affectionate pet – who resides in the pond.
I have no idea what will happen to the garden. Mrs S doesn’t seem inclined to list it in the SteampunkDollsHouse, and keeps muttering about how it needs to go to the ‘right home’. I shall simply continue to enjoy it while it’s here.
As for the Etsy shop, a cluster of recent sales is encouraging us to hope that normal life will soon resume.
Imagine our delight, then, when Molly hit upon the idea of opening her Literary Emporium to one of us each day. It is an exceedingly small establishment, so social distancing does not permit more than a single individual to enter the building at any time. Each of us has been issued with a card stamped with the dates for our visits and everyone is thoroughly enjoying the opportunity to peruse the many fascinating volumes available.
Only one thing marred our pleasure. Several upstanding and usually trustworthy members of our community mentioned catching glimpses of a tall, shadowy figure skulking around the Emporium. Rumours abounded as to the identity of this personage. This lockdown seems to make everyone a little jumpier than usual and some had claimed it was a creature conjured up by Dr Kopp, our resident mad scientist, who was recently seen taking an extreme interest in certain passages in the ancient 
“You there! Halt at once and reveal yourself!” I cried, in my most imperious tone, hoping earnestly that he wouldn’t misinterpret my hurried command.
It all started with tea. Hardly surprising – our little hive of fairly pointless but hugely enjoyable industry runs largely on tea most of the time. Not, I hasten to add, the sweetened, milk-infested mud-brown builders’ variety. We are partial to fascinating infusions – green, white, herbal – with 
More tea was imbibed, more empty boxes found, and interesting paint or paper applied to every surface. That clear plastic box in which the tea bags had arrived was pressed into service to make arched windows. Curtain rings, cocktail sticks, drinking straws and various beads were gathered. The extensive stash of adhesive tapes – metallic, decorative, double-sided – was raided. Gradually a rather wonky, rust-toned, multi-towered building emerged.
“Charles,” I called, “Could you give me a hand making a set of shelves for a little room I’m putting together? A stack of about three, to hang on the wall? A nice grungy but feminine paint or paper finish, please.”
The next day all was ready for Sabrina to move in. She was delighted with the room and spent some time putting up posters and charts, then began stacking her shelves and arranging the furniture.
Charles nodded meekly and sat down. He answered Psychic Sabrina’s questions – his name, his circumstances – without once taking his eyes from her face. She smiled and nodded, studying him just as intently.
Drill a hole in the top of the box. Fig 2 shows the template for the hole, usefully placed on the back of the motor. Check bus
Check fit of motor in box and pack spaces but check mechanism works OK. Don’t fix it in place yet.
I think the pictures (figs 6 to 10) work better than words for attaching the bird. Very fiddly and you may need to adjust position of motor to get the arm moving freely. Lots of trial and error!
A true artisan would have crafted a wooden box and screwed the motor into it. Me, I’m happier with glue, so here’s a picture of where you can safely spread glue without gumming up the mechanism.
Fig 12 shows the finished all-singing all-dancing bird. You can buy the kits from our Etsy shop at this link 
Just imagine our amazement when the infamous Dr Oskar Kopp and his ‘enhanced’ assistant Bjørn arrived. They had left us several years ago to accompany a reknowned storyteller and share their tales with her audiences. Now, it seems, the good lady is moving to another continent and asked whether she could return these gentlemen and their laboratory to us.
“But what about these small, er, devices of yours?” Mrs S enquired.
The very next day, Mr Coggleford the furniture restorer and young Jasper, his son and apprentice, told us that they intended to follow in Gus’s footsteps and would be taking one of the time machines as well as one of their finest cabinets with them.
Far off, in a deep meandering gorge in the Archipelagonian mountains, are the caves where the Time Dragons nest.
Here is Ruby, who moved away long ago. For her the Professor has chosen one of these delicate holographic scrying mirrors.
Young Henry, here, travelled to the East Coast of the United States some time ago and promptly changed his name.
Little Molly has, he knows, gone to an excellent new home in North Wales. However he has decided to send her some more books, as she can never have enough.
Steampunk - Shrunk! 