Steampunk fiction, reviews and interviews

Posts tagged “weekend

Tea @Three: All Punked Up With No Place To Go?

Good afternoon Ladies and Gentlemen! Welcome to Max and Collin’s frantically festive and perfectly punktastic parlour located in the splendidly scenic city of Lancaster, Mor Ire.

True, perhaps, some have called it a cheerless crater blighting the landscape of an otherwise splendid panorama , but we consider that such people are merely embittered that they have not yet received an invitation.

You find us, as is usual for a Thursday afternoon, All Punked UP With No Place To Go so without further ado, let us kick our tentacles up on the table and peruse the society papers and see where we ought to be heading to this weekend…

Well we have the fabulous Professor Elemental Steampunk Pirate Ball this Saturday

Or if you’re about in Nottingham there’s the very first ever Nottingham Steampunk Christmas market which is rather exciting and you could finish up by swinging The Pit and The Pendulum where their regular ‘Bitten By Fangs’ set should give you a seasonal chill!

If you are the sort who finds themselves aimlessly wandering the weekday streets wondering where you are and what your name is or if you may have fallen through a worm hole and landed on the wrong patch ethereal of turf (we know that feeling well, you are not alone) you could do worse than pop along to The Yellow Book  in Brighton, where they have Games Night, Laudanum and Lavender Open Mic, Pub Quiz and lots of lovely friendly staff with fabulous Steampunk Stories to tell you.

Or, looking further ahead, there’s the Walking in a steampunk wonderland on  17th dec in Newcastle Upon Tyne.

So there is absolutely no excuse to be skulking around your parlour with so much festive fun to be had.

We are in extreme haste this afternoon, being eager to don our hats and goggles and be off at once to watch the witches being pelted with hot plum pudding… not that we condone that sort of thing of course, nor will we derive any pleasure from it at all, but we must be seen to be fitting in with the festivities … you understand?… splendid, we knew you would!

We wish you a very principled afternoon where not one of your morals are compromised or called into question and we invite you back to join us in the parlour on Monday when we will be showing you 101 ways to deck your halls with fish… or something like that… so, until then please be always,

Utterly Yourself

 


Tea @ Three: All punked up with no place to go?

Good morning Ladies and Gentlemen! Welcome to Max and Collin’s perfectly punktastic parlour located in the splendidly scenic city of Lancaster, Mor Ire.

True, perhaps, some have called it a rotting refuge filled with remorseless rogues, but we consider that such people are merely embittered that they have not yet received an invitation.

You find us, as is usual for a Thursday afternoon, All Punked UP With No Place To Go so without further ado, let us kick our tentacles up on the table and peruse the society papers and see where we ought to be heading to this weekend…

 

surgical-spirit

Steampunk Surgical Spirit is taking place at Thackray Medical Museum, Beckett Street, Leeds this saturday and sunday. Full can be found on the website. leedssteampunkmarket.co.uk/

And looking further ahead – always wise where tickets have to be booked – The Victorian Steampunk Society are organising a very special New Year event, visit their event website for full details: http://www.asylumsteampunk.co.uk/steampunk-new-year-2016/

Ah but we have not forgotten that it is the very first of the month and so we must open our sacred book of tea and perform our tea ritual for December…

“December was gifted to us by The Powers That Tea, so that we might have a month in which it is perfectly acceptable to combine alcohol and tea. In December we stoke our inner flame with the warming spices of masala chai and remember that our actions in the world can bring this warmth and comfort to others.

The Sacred Tea for December is Masala Chai.

Optional Ceremonial Garb: The Festive Tea Socks

The Scared Ritual for the first of December is as follows:

The Chant:

 

Oh tree of tea, oh tree of tea

How sacred art thy leaves to me

Oh tree of tea, oh tree of tea

Thy blessed blossoms should be free

 

Yes free to all, not hoarded up

To fill some greedy guzzler’s cup

Oh tree of tea, oh tree of tea

Divine gift to humanity.

 

 

The Oath:

           

I solemnly swear to accept the gift of the month of December as a month for spreading comfort, warmth and sustenance to those around me. I will honour the Powers That Tea by drinking Masala Chai with respect and acknowledging that these delicious spices are a divine gift to all, not to be hoarded or monopolized by one group of greedy guzzlers. As a mark of this vow I will wear my Festive Tea Socks every day during the month of December. I solemnly swear that I am up to a lot of good… although it may not seem like it at the time.”

 

We wish you a delightfully fun filled weekend wherever your tentacles take you and hope you will join us back in the parlour on monday for some more wizmas madness. So, until then, please be always,

Utterly yourself

 


Tea @Three: All Punked up with no place to go

Good morning Ladies and Gentlemen! Welcome to Max and Collin’s punktasticly poe-etic parlour located in the splendidly scenic city of Lancaster, Mor Ire.

True, perhaps, some have called it a rotting refuge filled with remorseless rogues, but we consider that such people are merely embittered that they have not yet received an invitation.

You find us, as is usual for a Thursday afternoon, All Punked UP With No Place To Go so without further ado, let us kick our tentacles up on the table, pour out our delightful Poe inspired brew from Owen’s Acres, and peruse the society papers and see where we ought to be heading to this weekend…

Of course we have The Crewe Winter Steampunk Convivial which, if you haven’t already bought tickets for you can pay on the door.

Or if you are in the Brighton area, then “Lock up your daughters, your drinks cabinets and your heirlooms … ” because the Yellow Book Room (Britain’s first Steampunk themed pub) is hosting The Filthy Spectacula on the 26th!

All utterly marvellous things to look forward to. We hope you have enjoyed celebrating Poevember with us in the parlour this month and we hope you will join us again for our morning cuppa on Monday when we will be twiddling our thumbs and pondering what mischief to get up to next… or perhaps mischief will find us first? Who knows, or dares to dream eh?

So until then please be always,

Utterly Yourself

 


Tea @ Three: Antiquated Discoveries

Good afternoon Ladies and Gentlemen, and welcome, once again, to Max and Collin’s, catastrophically cat-ridden yet still charmingly chi chi parlour located in the splendidly scenic city of Lancaster, Mor Ire.  

True, perhaps, some have called it a perilous pit of depravity populated by monsters whose morals follow the wild swinging arc of Time’s own pendulum,  but we consider that such people are merely embittered that they have not yet received an invitation.

You find us, on this bleak and bewildering afternoon still having kittens about our desperate cat situation to the end that Max is now standing on the makeshift balcony screaming ‘Who will rid us of these cats?’

Meanwhile I am going to light a pipe and see if we can smoke them out.

Oh, but enough of this feline foolishness, despite our desperate situation it is undeniably Thursday Afternoon and we are All Punked Up With No Place To Go so let me see if I can find the society papers, beneath the writhing piles of fur and claws, and desipher where the action is this weekend…

Steampunks in Space is taking place at the National Space Centre on 12th – 13th November  and on 12th November there is also the alternative steampunks in space at the old horse ‘clockwork infirmary’ www.facebook.com/steampunksinspace

And looking a little further ahead, on the 18th , 19th and 20th November we have the  Haworth steampunk weekend

But before we hit the town, there is just a little time left to kick our tentacles up on the table with a good book and an energising cup of Firefly browncoat pilot’s blend by Friday teas. Fortunately the 5th of November saw the release of Den Of Antiquity – the new Steampunk Story Collection by members of The Steampunk Empire’s ‘Scribbler’s Den’ . The collection includes stories  by Karen J Carlisle, Jack Tyler, Alice E Keyes,  Bryce Raffle , Kate Philbrick, E.C. Jarvis , Neale Green , N.O.A. Rawle , Steve Moore , William J Jackson , B.A. Sinclair and David Lee Summers and all the proceeds are being donated to the International Red Cross so if you haven’t already got your tentacles on a copy, there’s a very good reason to do so!

We will be back in the parlour on monday but please do stop by and visit Peril in his lovely library tomorrow where he will be sharing something of Momentous Magnitude…hopefully it isn’t his Tiffin bill… so, until we see you next please be always,

Utterly Yourself.


Tea @ Three: The Pit and The Pendulum?

Good afternoon Ladies and Gentlemen, and welcome, once again, to Max and Collin’s, splendidly spiffin and utterly unique parlour located in the splendidly scenic city of Lancaster, Mor Ire.  

True, perhaps, some have called it a cryptic place where carrion feast on the minds and souls of those foolish enough to enter … but we consider that such people are merely embittered that they have not yet received an invitation.

You find us, on this murky and macabre afternoon, all Punked Up With No Place To Go … or should we say ‘no place to Poe?’ …. What’s that? Oh, Max says that has a completely different connotation and should be uttered Nevermore

Well, whatever the case we are still celebrating Poevember here in the parlour and consequently we are just about to kick our tentacles up on the table with a steaming cup of Coconut rush yerba mate from ujjay boutique (Yes we know it has Assam in it but we’re feeling extremely daring and adventurous this afternoon) and peruse the society papers to find somewhere gloriously gothic to spend the weekend…

Ah, now here is a blast from the past! If you are anywhere near the midlands (and even if you are not) and have a penchant for Poe then you absolutely MUST visit this little pocket of perfection…

 

https://www.facebook.com/Pit.and.Pendulum.nottingham/videos/10154687457465513/

The pit And The Pendulum Public House is every Gothic fiction fan’s dream come true with gothic furniture and decor throughout, gruesome gargoyles, live music and even secret passage ways and hidden doors!

Or, looking ahead intot he distant future that is February, Witby is going to have its very own Steampunk Weekend!

whitby steampunk.png

https://evensi.uk/whitby-steampunk-weekend-4th-and-5th-february-2017-whitby/185884589

Appearing for your delight, delectation, titillation and amusement there will be…

ALICE’S NIGHT CIRCUS – http://www.alicesnightcircus.com/
VICTOR AND THE BULLY – http://victorandthebully.com
PROFESSOR ELEMENTAL – http://professorelemental.com/
Daytime entry to the spa pavilion market is free, evening entertainment tickets are £15 (plus booking fee).
We will be back in the parlour on Monday with some more Poevember Splendour but we wish you a gloriously gothtastic weekend and please remain always,

Utterly Yourself


Tea @ Three: Winging it…

Good afternoon Ladies and Gentlemen, and welcome, once again, to Max and Collin’s, phantasmagorically fabulous and wonderfully whimsical parlour located in the splendidly scenic city of Lancaster, Mor Ire.  

True, perhaps, some have called it a roach-infested hovel fit only for harbouring the detritus of society,  but we consider that such people are merely embittered that they have not yet received an invitation.

You find us, on this enchanting afternoon, trying our hands at a spot of fairy catching… if the rumours are true and Lord Ashton really is going to open a portal in the aether and let fairies and Wiz-knows-what else through into our world then we really ought to be prepared!

Luckily we  have found this splendid tutorial for creating a cunning fairy-trapping device, not that we are condoning cruelty to fairies of course but, you know, we need to think of the cake, there is so very precious little of it…

Splendid, so with a few of those around the place we are feeling much safer from the little winged tiffin-thieves, and  we can settle ourselves back amongst the silk cushions and lemonade crates with a steaming brew of ‘Glashtyn’ rose and cinnamon tea.

Of course we could always try and blend in with the wee folk if they do decide to invade…

 

Well of course I have not forgotten that it is Thursday and, with our top hats dusted with  glitter and our sparkly steampunk wings at the ready, we are ‘all punked up with no place to go’ so, let us peruse the society papers and see where we should be heading to this weekend….

On the 30th of October we have the Steampunk Time Fall Back Show by the British Horological Society.

St Annes are holding their annual Goblin King’s Masquerade Ball on saturday

Or if zombies are more your thing you could head for The Secret Zombie Ball

Or you could cram in an entire weekned of Victorian-themed fear at Lincoln Castle

Ah, but now I think our tea is brewed so we will wish you all a frightfully splendid Halloween weekend and see you back in one piece in the parlour on Monday. In the meantime, we hope you will join Perilous Wight for Pipe and Slippers in his lovely library tomorrow evening when he will be sharing something of ‘imaginative awesomeness’…or so he informs us…hopefully it isn’t his eulogy again…

So until then! Be always,

Utterly Yourself.

 

 

 


Pipe and Slippers:

Good evening and welcome to my magnificently macabre miscellanea of tantalising tomes…or as some ridiculous personages have dubbed it – my lovely library.

old-library-1571043

I am Perilous Wight and here in the bowels of the city of Lancaster, in the disused tunnels of an underground train system that never was, I have made it my mission to collect every book that our self-proclaimed ‘supreme ruler f the universe’ and his mincing minions have banned from the bookshelves of the new world.

But this is not a public thoroughfare! If you have wandered in here on the ill-advice of a drag-dressed octopus and its dribbling Tea Fiend, let me advise you not to be so easily lured into a parlour by the promise of strange fruit. Well, you will find nothing sweet and alluring down here;   here there is only the dark and the damp, the flickering of candlelight and the ceaseless toil of a man who did not re-animate from the dead to be pestered by people wanting bedtime stories!

But wait…what’s that you have tucked away under your arm there? Amontillado? Oh…. well, yes perhaps it is about time I put my feet up for a while, pipe and slippers and a little drop of something, the day has, after all been a long one. And I suppose I could read a very little something,

like this perhaps…

naturally-twisted-2-1499288

Sheath And Knife

It was a wretched night. The day had been, like all the rest that winter, blanketed by a sky as thick with yellow hairs as a she-wolf’s pelt. Around three o’clock, the sun had given up its feeble interruptions of the conversation between sky and earth and taken itself off to bed protesting a headache.

Richard keenly wished he could do the same. The great hall echoed with the sober sibilation of rote remarks, hissing like steam from vents stretched tight in cold calculated smiles. Wits upon a tight leash; conversations measured by the mark and the feather.

Only obligation held him upright in his chair. Obligation to an old friend, who had not yet arrived.

One by one the guests retired – like salamanders slipped away to cadge the warmth of some other, brighter flame. And still Richard sat, while outside the rain beat out its fury upon the leaded windows the wind sang with gusto as it swept the cobweb clouds away into the night.

Still Richard sat. And still his friend did not come.

At last, when the hall was completely empty and the fire naught but the lazy lip lick of the full bellied bear in slumber, the door of the hall swung open and in, with the storm hungry upon his heels, came the long awaited guest.

Richard greeted him as jovially as he could and bade him sit by the fire and pressed warm mead into his raw red hands and did all the hospitable things he was supposed to do as a host and his friend, Edward, thanked him and made himself at home.

It had been many years since the two friends had shared company.

Richard regarded Edward in the firelight. He looked pale and haggard – the kind of world weariness that comes from years, not hours, of storm-riding. The deep fatigue that penetrates bone and marrow until it feasts upon the delicacy that is the human soul and, bite by exquisite bite, devours it. The same exhaustion that Richard glimpsed each evening in the mirror before he snuffed the light upon another gruelling day of hollow living.

He kept his assumptions to himself.

He did not dare ask.

The friends sat in silence as only old friends can until, quite suddenly, there came a tremendous noise outside the door and Richard rose from his chair just as a gigantic wolf hound came bursting through it with something clamped tight between its jaws.

Edward rose at once “Gellert!” he chided, pushing the beast away as it leapt and lolled at him and capered all about the place shedding cascades of filthy water.

“He is yours?”

“Unfortunately, yes! I thought he’d stay put with the horses but the silly brute is loath to leave my side it seems…ho! What’s this he’s brought in? Gods above and below!”

Edward wrested the thing loose from the great hound’s mouth and held it up to the firelight. It was a bone. A human leg bone, by all accounts, and clinging to it – Richard clamped a hand across his mouth – fragments of tattered green and gold fabric.

“Curious eh? Wonder where he picked that old thing up.” Edward rose to shut the door but, before he reached it, the hound gave a loud bellow and charged back out into the storm once more. Edward shrugged, closed the door behind him and returned to his seat by the fire but Richard hesitated. He knew full well what this bone was and where it came from and every fibre of his being was trying desperately to think of a way to get rid of it before Edward realised what it was as well and ran screaming for his life.

But before Richard could do anything about it, the door burst open again and in crashed the hound, this time bearing another leg bone and a pair of feet to match. Then he wagged his tail happily and bounded off into the storm once more.

Well, this game went on all night – the dog coming and going and bringing back bone after bone after bone until Richard was on his knees with his head in his hands, Edward was opposite him with his jaw on the floor and two full human skeletons were laid upon the hall floor between the two of them.

Gellert sat and wagged his tail gleefully. As far as he was concerned, a good night’s work had been accomplished.

“Call the watch!” Richard groaned “Call the priest! Call everyone! Have them take me away! For here, before you, lie the rotted corpses of what should have been a noble woman and her innocent child. I could not stand the shame of their existence in life, but now to bear the guilt of their destruction? It is a far greater torture for your wretched hound to have unearthed them now and laid them out like accusations at my door! Oh for pity’s sake, do not look at them, take them away, and then go yourself and do not ever return for I know you cannot bear to know me any longer!”

Edward looked at the skeletons, bones shining silver and gold in the firelight.

He looked at his grinning hound and at his broken friend and then he took Richard by the elbows and he steered him gently back into his seat.

“Drink some wine,” he said carefully, “and while you recover yourself, let me tell you a story.

“We knew eachother as boys, you and I, but of course you remember that I was called away to care for my grandfather who was very ill. Eventually, the old man died and I was sad to see him go for we had grown mighty fond of eachother in the years that had passed. On his death bed he gave to me a rare and precious gift – a golden seed like no other on earth – and he bade me plant it in the soil outside his cottage and mark well to feed and care for it every day.

This I did and the tree grew so fast and so fine that within a few short weeks it towered almost as tall as the house and every kind of fruit imaginable grew in wondrous profusion upon its branches at every time of year.

Well, at first my friends and neighbours were very pleased – they wanted the fruits and I was happy to share them out, there were so many. But, after a while, they started to complain. Some of the fruits I gave them were bitter and did not taste so good, others tasted sweet but were difficult to swallow. The tree was getting out of hand they said – its branches overhung the road, its shadow fell across the whole town and its fruits fell like rain into the gardens of all and sundry.

One night they came with torches and axes in their hands and bitter cries of hatred upon their lips.

They cut down my tree until it was naught but a stump. The tree my grandfather had given me. The tree that gave fruit enough to feed the world. And I let them Richard, I sat at my window and did nothing while they hacked it down. “

Richard looked up a little, and wiped his eyes on the back of his hand.

“After they had gone,” Edward continued, his voice cracking like the charred logs upon the hearth, “I went outside. All that was left was one golden seed, lying there in the centre of the stump.”

“What did you do?” Richard couldn’t help himself.

Edward straightened up and slowly, tentatively, hands trembling in the darkness, he undid the buttons of his shirt. Richard saw his own pain and shame mirrored in his friend’s eyes. “I swallowed it,” Edward whispered, “and it has grown in me ever since.”

“Gods above and below!” Richard leapt to his feet. Edward’s entire torso was a twisted, gnarled and writhing mass of living tree boughs –  bursting from his torn and bleeding flesh, forcing their way through bone and sinew like thick, black cobras, their fruits deformed and rancid; ripening and rotting in the crevices between his pulsing organs.

“How are you even alive?” Both men turned, startled, towards the voice which had seemed to grind upwards through some deep and long forgotten vault, and there, in front of them, stood the skeleton of the woman which had risen from the floor as Edward had been telling his tale.

Edward swallowed hard, “I…I do not know, My Lady.”

The skeleton approached him slowly. She reached out a hand that was naught but bone and with her skeletal fingers she reached deep inside Edward’s chest and, ignoring how he screamed and writhed and tried to push her away, she stoically removed the golden seed.

With the seed now gone, some of the roots and branches slithered away also in gory pools of bloated purple tissue and dark clotted blood. Edward looked sheepishly at the mess but Richard seemed not to have noticed.

The skeleton woman walked slowly to the door and heaved it open. At some point the storm had wandered off to play elsewhere and a morning pale and pink was peeking tentatively over a blanket of rolling blue cloud.

The skeleton woman crouched in the wet earth and with her bony fingers she gouged a hole just big enough for Edward’s seed. She bedded it down tenderly and covered it over and as she did so, out from the empty sockets of her eyes soft tears felt like rain and watered the earth beneath her fleshless feet.

At once the earth began to shake and groan and the two men stumbled giddily out of the hall to find a magnificent fruit tree towering towards the sky, its branches bent over heavy with fruits of every description. The skeleton woman reached up into the branches and she picked a fruit.

Just one golden apple.

She bit into the yellow pulp with her bare bone teeth and she sucked out flesh and heart and sinew, she sucked out lungs and every vital organ, she sucked out eyes, star bright and ocean deep, brain cells bursting with the energy of wit and wisdom, muscles lean and strong, hips wide and sturdy, breasts full and heavy with milk and every good thing a woman needs and desires. Then Margaret took her little skeleton child up in her big strong feather-soft arms and she put him to her breast and he sucked and sucked until he was as ruddy and chubby as any babe could ever hope to be.

Now I cannot lie and tell you that this is the end of the tale, for I know that Edward and Richard and Margaret and their little babe and their strange fruit tree had many, many adventures after that. But those will have to wait until another time.

For now it is well enough for us to remember that any treasure that we bury cannot remain so forever. Treasure  is put into the world to be shared, the skill is in finding out who to share it with and for that task, it is always good to have a wily hunting hound, like Gellert, as your ally.

 

Hmpf, well, as for you, you have no ‘allies’ here, only a grumpy old ghost who wishes to be left to rest in peace…or at least work in peace, now go on, out with you all I …no I don’t give  damn if you are afraid of the dark or worried about the man-eating birds …werewolves you say? Well, you should have thought of that before you broke the curfew, GOOD NIGHT!

 

 


Tea @ Three: Fiends of Fortune

Good afternoon Ladies and Gentlemen, and welcome, once again, to Max and Collin’s, fabulously funky and yet still succulently sweet parlour located in the splendidly scenic city of Lancaster, Mor Ire.  

True, perhaps, some have called it a slimy cesspool, filled with festering detritus but we have sent those people packing with a barrage of rotten fruit.   

Today you find us still wallowing in apples and we are now using them to tell fortunes – yes that’s right, I have been unceremoniously forced into a dress and turban and decorated with jingling gold coins and Max is diligently trying to lure young women into the parlour with promises that we will, with our magic apples, reveal their romantic destiny.

We have not, so far, had any takers… which is a shame because we were hoping to raise enough money to pay our rent next month and avoid another violent landlordian outburst.

If you’d like to try our little trick for yourselves, simply peel an apple, trying to keep the entire peel in one piece, then toss the peel over your shoulder and try to decipher what letter/ s it most resembles. These are the initials of your future love.

Apparently.

Max got a C and a B and is definitely not amused.

Never mind, enough of this unfortuitous fruity nonsense because It is Thursday afternoon and, once I get out of this dress and into some fetching tweeds, we will be ‘all punked up with no place to go’ so, while we drown our sorrows in a steaming cup of Hairy Crab Oolong from TTime Organics, let us peruse the society papers and see where we should be heading to this weekend….

The League of Splendid’s ‘Splendid Day Out’ is here at last! It’s in Morecambe, Lancashire so if you are in the area, pop along and stock up on steampunk treats from the  artisan market, indulge in a spot of tea duelling or tap your tentacles to tunes from Cauda Pavonis, Professor Elemental and more.

Or, looking further ahead, on the 24th of October the monthly Newark Steampunk Meet are holding their Halloween Event as well , while on the 30th of October we have the Steampunk Time Fall Back Show by the British Horological Society so, a very ‘timely’ thing to look forward to, eh?

Ah, but now I think our tea is brewed so we will wish you all a perfectly punktastic weekend

And see you in the parlour on Monday. In the meantime, we hope you will join Perilous Wight for Pipe and Slippers in his lovely library tomorrow evening when he will be sharing something of ‘extreme prodigiousness’…or so he informs us…hopefully it isn’t his tailoring bill…

So until then! Be always,

Utterly Yourself.


Tea @Three:Exciting Excavations

Good afternoon Ladies and Gentlemen, and welcome, once again, to Max and Collin’s  perhaps-not-so-private and extensively excavated parlour located in the splendidly scenic city of Lancaster, Mor Ire.  

True, perhaps, some have called it a house of ill manners, ill health, ill-conceived fancies and illicit tiffin but we consider that such people are merely embittered that they have not yet received an invitation.   

We are taking tea on our new balcony this afternoon. It was immensely kind of our landlord, Montmorency, to put one in for us…sorry? Oh yes, well… Max says, “There are implements better suited to smashing holes in walls than the heads of Very Quiet Gentlemen”… well, yes, Montmorency does get a little over excited when we don’t pay up on time. But never mind about your injuries, Max, because it is Thursday afternoon and we are ‘all punked up with no place to go’ so, while our lovely werewolf butler makes us a reviving cup of  Slytherin Serpent’s blend from Friday tea , let us peruse the society papers and see where we should be heading to this weekend….

The Yellow Book in Brighton, Brittain’s first Steampunk Themed Pub is always a delightful hotspot for steam-themed shenanigans and on Saturday they are playing host to Victor and the bully…

Need we say more?

Or, looking further ahead, don’t forget The League of Splendid are planning another Splendid Day Out-  on the 22nd of October in Morecambe, Lancashire. It looks set to be a smaller but just as marvellous event with artisan market, tea duelling and entertainment from Cauda Pavonis, Professor Elemental and more.

And on the 24th of October the monthly Newark Steampunk Meet are holding their Halloween Event as well so, all good things to look forward to.

Ah, but now I think our tea is brewed and it is has just occurred to me that having an enormous hole in the wall is not perhaps the best of plans when the sun is about to set and hoards of carnivorous Liver Birds are about to descend upon the streets of Lancaster… perhaps Klapka can nail some planks over it…quickly…

Hopefully, we will survive the night and be back in the parlour on Monday! In the meantime, we hope you will join Perilous Wight for Pipe and Slippers in his lovely library tomorrow evening when he will be sharing something of ‘ineffable literary merit’…or so he informs us…hopefully it isn’t his sugartax returns…

So until then! Be always,

Utterly Yourself.