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.
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.
The town hall of our new urban development was judged a success. Soon more buildings followed and before we knew it, the town of Clockton-upon-Teas started to form.
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.
Poor Augustus. He looks very apologetic and slightly alarmed. He holds himself entirely responsible for the furious beeping and light-flashing, not to mention the broken crockery and so forth, but it really isn’t entirely his fault.
I used vast quantities of broken jewellery, charms and other pleasingly-shaped objects to create some of our 
Gus began to transform the motorbikes.
The smaller robots caught sight of Robot G on his gleaming copper and gold motorbike. Pandemonium broke out.
We noticed that we have not yet provided the full text for our rather popular little Book of Potions. We consider it to be perfectly readable, but there are those who complain that the print is rather small, so here follows a complete transcript for your edification.
Once you have a smooth powder, bind it together with the whites of as many larks’ eggs as needed to make a firm paste.
I, Silvester Bawdrip, would like to offer a very warm welcome to my new premises, which open today, October 5th 2019.
I have to confess, I had some difficulty explaining the situation to my intended, Mistress Ectophemia Fleabane, when she discovered this photography of Lady Steamington in my drawer.
Steampunk - Shrunk! 