Here in 21st Century England, it is possible, for a modest outlay, to purchase sets of what are called ‘storage suitcases’ from a well-known chain of stationery shops. These sturdy little card cases, with metal handles and hinges, come in three sizes ranging from 12 x 8 x 3.5 inches (30 x 20 x 9 cm) down to 8 x 6 x 3 inches (14 x 20 x 8 cm).
It quickly became apparent that these would provide excellent and easily portable little rooms for the steampunk ladies and gentlemen to inhabit. Decorating and furnishing them has become one of my chief delights and many have headed off to happy homes throughout the country.
The prices vary considerably, depending on the complexity of the contents and whether they are sold with or without figures.
Here are the cases currently available at Steampunk-Shrunk:
The Engine Room
This is housed in a large case. 
It is the room in which Henry the tinker (See Diary of a Tinkerer) repaired and powered up his time machine.
It contains a large pile of coal, a Twisted Firestarter (safely caged), a huge steam boiler with furnace beneath (complete with opening door and flickering flame), various pipes and a complex set of gadgets, the purpose of which remains a mystery to me. It costs £58 and, like the other cases, can be purchased at Steampunk-Shrunk stalls or online. See home page for details.
The Case of the Balloon Journey
This is the only outdoor scene at present. Harvey Cholmondeley is travelling from Africa to visit his brother Algernon. (See The Vital Chapter). 
Land can just be glimpsed through the clouds below, while Harvey stands in his basket, which has a turning anemometer and a burner with working flame (powered by a battery tea light). Harvey wears a genuine leather coat and flying helmet and has all the details and gadget you’ve come to expect from steampunk-Shrunk figures. This case costs £68 (or £48 without figure).
The Case of the Withdrawing Room
This small case shows her ladyship’s personal space. There is a whatnot filled with her treasures, a bird in a cage, a chair, mirror and table complete with a flickering steampunk lamp. Her journal, pen and inkpot lie on the table. There is no figure sold with this room, which costs £48.
The Case of the Tinker’s Time Machine
Yet another time traveller! Here you find George Entwhistle hard at work on a partially completed temporal transporter. You can find the full story here. The room is crammed with detail and his machine flashes with different colours (from an upcycled Christmas badge!) in the most dramatic way you can imagine. George wears a battered leather apron and specially adapted goggles. The furnished room costs £58, or £78 with George included.
The Case of the Tea Duel
The room is set up for the most genteel of duels, but the intent is deadly serious. There is real china crockery and ‘cows’ (a plate of malted milk biscuits) are the weapons of choice. The tiny room is cleverly back-lit, so that light shines through the window. The cupboard conceals the lighting for the scene. This case can be purchased for £58. 
However for a further £27 (£85 in all), the immaculately attired duellists – Leticia and Prudence – can be added. An absolute bargain, I’m sure you’ll agree, since Steampunk-Shrunk figures normally sell for £25 each.
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.
Certainly the poseable porcelain figures, with all their clothes hand stitched and their tiny accessories and (often) new wigs all hand made, come out relatively expensive. Likewise the room cases, which can take me weeks to create. These items are not really suitable for children either, being fragile, with some sharp edges and a plethora of what health & safety people refer to as Small Parts.
For those who have less time and patience, there’s a range of ready made books, from tiny blank-paged notebooks and pencils to thicker, fully illustrated printed volumes. The text of each book appears in this blog, in case the print is too difficult to read.
Happy reading, and should purchasers still wish to try reading the original volumes, we do have a few Illuminating Manuscript Readers, with magnifying lens and bright lamp for £14. (It’s pictured here on a centimetre square grid, to give an idea of scale.)
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. 
Freddy Huntington-Groff casually selected one of the silver-handled screwdrivers from his breast pocket and lifted the bonnet.
Yes, tensions were building. Tobias had always viewed the car as his ‘Angel’ but now, with Freddy’s arrival on the scene, he appeared to have a rival.
Both men turned to look at her. It was difficult to look anywhere else when Josephine was in the vicinity.
Tobias and several other members of the Steampunk – Shrunk community will be joining the others there within the next few weeks, while Freddy, Josephine and The Angel will remain with those of us who visit craft fairs, steampunk events and miniatures sales.
This is how Tobias looked when he first arrived at Shrunk Towers. I think his name was probably Paul or Richard.
After a bit of Steampunk-Shrunk magic, he ended up looking like this – fine leather coat, hand-stitched black wool trousers, satin waistcoat, cravat and a serious facial makeover.
I’d barely started browsing, when I saw the car in a shop window.
Every spare minute was given over to The Angel during the next three days. Shiny gold and silver nail varnish covered the blotchy detail paintwork. Gold cord trim made the upholstery look neater.
Tobias declared himself satisfied with the result and, pulling down his goggles, climbed back into the driving seat for a photo-shoot.
Steampunk - Shrunk! 