HeritageWeekend

Greetings, dear friends. Well, my time in this Reality will soon be at an end, for now. I must say it has been an interesting experience. This last few days have been a giddy whirl of social activities. I was most impressed with the number of people wearing real clothes for a change, as opposed to the sad garments most people wear from day to day in this Reality. T-shirts, hoodies, uggghhh. Hardly real clothes at all. The worst of the lot, though, are something called lycra bike-shorts. Trully horrible. Although, I have decided to take out a patent on velcro and zippers, when I return to the Real World. So usefull. Sunday was the day of the Fete, and I must say it was most enjoyable, and although it was more of a celebration of all things Victorian than of all things Steam, there was still a lot of smoke and steam to be seen. During the afternoon, I encountered two most charming young women who make genuine steampunk jewelry. Annika and Susan, very Cool, to coin a phrase from this Reality. If only Sir Cecil would propose, I'd make a special trip back to this Reality, just to commision you two to make a most splendid ring. Dear sir Cecil, how I do miss him!!! I must get back to him quite soon, as he has a very short memory, and a number of most unsuitable young women have been eyeing him up...Not that I need a man, you understand. It's just that he's exceptionally well-endowed in the Fortune department, and quite amenable to my wishes. Anyway, when I want some trully original jewelry, Romance Rewound will be my first port of call.
Am also pleased to report that Professor Damotimus has made excellent progress with his Libratory. It is well worth a visit. Farewell for now. I will report again, once or twice, before I vanish back to the Real World until next year...

psychic exploration

Good morning, my learned friends. I thought that this would be an opportune moment for a word about What We Do.Sir Cecil and myself, that is. For those of you who have yet to get to know us, we are Psychic Explorers. That is to say, we are people who boldly go where no-one has gone before, discovering and scientifically describing new species for science as we do so. Sir Cecil is thus a famous Armchair Explorer, who ventures to the far-flung outposts of our solar system,discovering all manner of wondrous creatures which are completely new to science. Being the resourceful man that he is, Sir C. has discovered that there is little need to actually go to these places. All he needs to do is put on his unique Cosmic Concentrator Cap, suck in some of Nanny McCuddlestone's famous herbal tobacco, sip his whisky thoughtfully, and gaze into a blazing fire. Oh, and eat large portions of Black Forest Gateau. Somehow, no-one quite knows how, this magical combination concentrates the waves of Psychic Inspiration into near-perfect images of Real-Life Creatures in Sir Cecil's head. As you can imagine, Sir C. spends large amounts of time thus, awaiting inspiration. He is a Great Man, who is wholly dedicated to the Cause, and willing to suffer any amount of indigestion and gout in pursuit of Scientific Truth, and Discovery. Fortunately, Sir Cecil's sacrifices Have Not Been In Vain, since I have become his Personal Assistant, and as the Great Artist that I am, (although modesty forbids me to tell you just how great I really am!!!) I have been able to crack the code, as it were, and interpret Sir Cecil's ideas in such a way that the general public can understand them. I do this by taking his ideas, and drawing or making models of them. If you look, you will see the charming little giraffe-like creatures in the picture on this page. These are one of Sir Cecil's very first discoveries, the Martian Okapi-Giraffe, scientifically known as camelopardis madhousii. You may well be amazed to know that I came up with these incredibly lifelike renditions based on only a few brief utterances by Sir Cecil. If I recall, he said something like this--'like giraffes.....only little and stripy. They live on Venus.' And then he fell asleep, poor dear. It was a brilliant description. the only bit in which Sir Cecil was wrong was the bit about Venus. We now know they don't live on Venus, but we expect news of their discovery on Mars any day now. Must dash now, my dears. The day is rapidly marching on, and there are discoveries to be made!!! Long live the Queen!!!

new pictures

Delightful children's toys

Good afternoon, Dear Readers.

 Yesterday, I took yet more time to wander around the delightful Forrester Gallery, pondering some of the exhibits. I was very much taken with the small child's tricycle, which has been exhibited by a Mr. Fleury. I have yet to meet this ingenious gentleman, but I am eagerly awaiting the opportunity. His steam-powered tricycle is very much like the one Sir Cecil has stored away in the attic at Poppycock Manor. In fact, one would almost think they were identical, except that Sir Cecil's model has revolving blades attached to the back wheels, for those times when the servants were being tiresome, and the little darling wished to chastise them. AAhh, many's the time we've chuckled about that!!! Even Nanny McCuddlestone has some rather vivid scars on her ankles!!! He really was a little tyke, in his younger days!!! Apparently, he and his little friends used to take turns riding helter-skelter up and down the long hallway at Poppycock Manor as fast as they could, blades whirling, aiming at their little friend's ankles...in those days, parents really believed in competitive play. I believe the little ones soon learned to jump over the blades. It's trully amazing how fast even a very small child can run, and how high they can jump, when real pain is involved!!! Of course, Sir Cecil always mourned the fact that he was never allowed the more impressive model of tricycle, the Safeways Toddler-Controlled Vaporiser, which incorporated a small but effective vaporising gun, and a deadly cannister of poisonous gas. His dear father was all set to purchase one for him, when it was inexplicably withdrawn from the market. One can only ponder as to why such a delightful toy went out of manufacture. I'm afraid they just don't make children's toys like they used to...
 On a more serious note, I fear I may have inadvertantly mentioned the Maximiser/Minimiser Gun in my last article...please pretend you didn't read that, as it is Sir Cecil's latest Deadly Weapon, and he would be most distressed if it were misused in any way. So far, he's only tried it out on a few people who really deserved it. My word, it was effective! (But you didn't hear me say that.) Anyway, Dear Friends, I must dash, so au revoir for now, and keep that steam billowing!!!

News from the Capital

Good evening, faithful readers.

Today, I have been the recipient of some most dissappointing information. It would appear that Mr. Simmerin is not, in fact, in possession of a Castle, Palace, Manor House or similar. Nor is he in possession of an even halfway decent Fortune, I fear. Since he has declined to answer my friendly questions, I was forced to do some research on my reader's behalf, and it would appear that he came from something called a Petri Dish, followed by a childhood in the Battersea Power Station, whatever that is. These are not the kind of origins of which one would normally boast, particularly not if one has no money.
While I would not wish to appear mercenary in any way, it is true that wealth has it's benefits.
Dear, dear Sir Cecil; what was I thinking??? On a lighter note, this morning I marvelled at the sheer diversity of people flocking to the Forrester Gallery to view this Steampunk exhibition---it was abundantly clear to me that all sorts of people wish they could live in my Reality, rather than this somewhat anemic replica in which I currently find myself. Perhaps some of them will catch a vision of a different world, one where plastic doesn't exist, and men are Real Men, and women are Curvaceous, and not half-starved. When I asked my Companion about the undernourished females portrayed as beautiful in this world, I almost laughed myself sick!!! In my world, if someone pulled that stunt, we'd turn the Maximiser gun on them, and they would explode!!! And serve them right, too.

Correspondence

Dear Readers,

you will be pleased to know that I have tracked down an address for the elusive but attractive Mr. Simmerin, and given him a list of friendly questions that we would all like to know the answers to. Here they are...

Q. 1 Mr. Simmerin, I'm not at all nosy myself, you understand, but my readers would like to know if you are a participant in the married state? They are clamoring to know, Mr. Simmerin, as they have not, thus far, observed a Woman. Is it possible that you have her locked in the basement of your house, as her elevator does not go All the Way to the Top? This is often an unfortunate side-effect in well-bred families, particularly very wealthy ones who have married their cousins for thirty generations or more, if you know what I mean.

Q. 2 Mr. Simmerin, would you describe your Fortune as Magnificent, Medium, Modest or Minute in size? If it is unhappily Non-Existent, you may choose not to answer this question. I wouldn't ask, you understand, but my Readers have a right to know.

Q. 3 Do you live in a Castle, Palace, Manor House or Mansion? (Or Other?)

Q. 4 Are you the proud possessor of any pets, particularly small dogs, rabbits, guinea-pigs, sheep, cows, ostriches, that sort of thing? The reason I ask is that dear Spot is somewhat partial to all of the above. He's fine round cats, though. I think he regards them as oddly-colored cubs. I do not blame him, he is, after all, a Sudanese hunting cheetah, and simply acting on instinct...
It is one of life's small inconveniences, having to clean up the remains of one's friend's (or, I should say, ex-friends) beloved Fido or Rover, or Fluffy, in the shape of a large hairball which Spot has hoicked up all over Sir Cecil's Grandfather's Persian rug. Still, nature is wonderful. By the time Spot has digested them, there's not much left, just bones and hair or feathers...

Q. 5 My minder, tedious woman, just said I should ask you why you got involved in Steampunk, so I've tacked that one on the end, just to keep her happy...Why did you get involved in Steampunk? How much money do you expect to make out of it? And lastly, do you think of this movement as having a long-term goal of World Domination?

I await your reply with interest, Mr. Simmerin,

Yours in anticipation,

Miss Lucy Lovehandles, P.A.

Miss Lucy's Pictures

Grand opening

Greetings, Readers; I hope this missive finds you well. I have now been in this strange, alternate Reality for much more than a week, and I must say I am missing Sir Cecil, and the comforts of Home. It is odd to see how people in this Reality are busy trying to copy what those of us in the Real Reality take for granted; i.e., things such as real craftsmanship with proper materials such as brass and copper and leather, and a proper sense of adventure. Also, of course, lashings of noisy steam...still, they do their best, God Bless them.
 Last Saturday, I went along to the Grand Opening, where I watched all manner of people trying to recapture the romance of the Age of Steam. It was a splendid affair, and people were enjoying themselves very much. I just felt sorry that at the end of the night, they have to go home to their shoddy plastic and fickle electricity. How terrible to have to rely on such poor and ephemeral things. In my Reality, of course plastic has been invented, but it has been largely rejected as a building material because, well, it just doesn't look good enough.
On a somewhat different note, I fear that the slovenly speech patterns of this world have started to infect me. I've found myself reverting to some of the local slang phrases. Hence, do not be offended if you find me saying things like 'I'll catch ya later,' and 'How's it goin' Dude?' I'm just picking up the local vernacular; as they say, 'when in Rome...'
And on that note, I'll catch ya later, guys. Gotta go now.