The matching skirt consists of a drape of pink figured silk, tucked up at the hips to show tiers of machine-made lace frills and pleats […] It is ruched in front and has a train box-pleated into the back.

Glory be to God, all sublunary coastings will soon be over. Yet a little while, and we shall get into an eternal harbour.

But if modelmaking is not art, why is it that, in the upper reaches of modeldom, where the best do their work, there is an identifiable difference in feel between the work of one modelmaker and another?

‘Don′t just stand there, you great galah, lend a hand here!’ Billy Kemp shoved Edmund towards the longboat. ‘Get it free. The lads are bringing up the casks.’