Rubble Club Archives

Welcome in, Rubble Clubbers, I am Madge Dumpling, your chairman and cook and you have arrived at the world-famous Rubble Club, frequented by pet rock lovers and their adorable little rockies from far and wide. That lovely smell you can smell is my latest tasty invention, crunchy seashell nibbles. They are just as delicious as my rock cakes but instead of adding rock chippings to the seaweed flour and water, I have added finely crushed seashells from Blackpool beach. They’re full of goodness! Help yourselves! What’s mine is yours, as always, but please don’t go rummaging through my cupboards.
Something wonderful has happened this week, Rubble Clubbers, something of great magical proportions. Cast up on the beach, I found a drift of translucent snow-white rock specimens. As we all know, that sort of light-transmitting white rock originates in the mountains of High Heaven, where the angels, ancestors and intermediaries live. Every now and again, when some angelic influence is called for here amongst us mortals, a piece will turn up. As soon as I have used my age-old Dumpling magic to turn it into a pet rock, a runic symbol always appears upon it, a sign from the ancestors, who are very old and still speak in the runes of yesteryear. They have not yet mastered our modern tongue, it seems. Sure enough, once the rune rock has appeared, its rightful owner turns up within the next few days, and the magic is theirs.
It is very rare for such a large cluster to turn up all at once, but nothing happens for no reason. There must be quite a few of you out there who are in need of some special magic at this time, so for once, Rubble Clubbers, you do not need to enter a competition to get something from me. All you have to do is turn up in the Magic Wand Factory shop on Dickson Road, Blackpool and say these magic words….”MADGE DUMPLING HAS A RUNE ROCK FOR ME”, and the shop assistant will pass one to you FREE OF CHARGE! You have only one week to get here, though, because rightful owners always turn up within a few days of the magic being set in stone. If you arrive after the 3rd of May, you will be too late. Still, every pet rock has a lucky magic of its own even without a rune, and we can fix you up with plenty of them to choose from. If you do turn out to be the rightful owner of a rune rock, you might consider buying it a little friend to play with. If you have pet rocks already, you will find the rune rock will look after them (and you) like a guardian angel.
So there, Rubble Clubbers, what more can you ask? A magic deal that only those who attended this meeting can ever know about. A rare prize indeed! I have to go and start wrapping them up now, so I’ll leave you and your dear little pets to enjoy the party food. Stay well until we meet again next Friday. I remain your magical little friend and devoted chairman, Madge Dumpling.

Hello pet rock fanciers, your little friend Madge Dumpling here again welcoming you to another meeting of the world-famous Rubble Club. Spread your pet rocks out in a row in front of the computer screen so they can read what’s going on. That’s it. Hello Rockies! You are looking every bit as lovely as I remember you my darlings….pampered, petted and proud of your owners, and getting all your own way too, I see. It’s good to see you have found yourselves someone loves you as much as me.
For those of you who did not attend, we had a lovely sentimental ancestors’ day last Saturday. Bigger crowds than ever, all weeping, watching the sun go down together over the shimmering horizon of the Blackpool sea remembering the olden days of the ancestors. Last year we all stood on the edge of Undergrowby pond in a weed patch in the middle of nowhere. No wonder more of us turned up this year. More of the ancestors turned up too, judging by the spectacularly twinkly sky ( where they now live, of course, in High Heaven with the angels and other Invisibles). I think they are going to like us being in Blackpool now, because with all that sky, they can really spread out. They can sit on the edge of the clouds in the sun and watch the holidaymakers playing with their pet rocks on the beach. I can’t help wondering if this move to Blackpool might be a heavenly ancestral retirement plan, as much for themselves as for us here down below.
Anyway, having paid our respects to the ancestors, they will send us fabulous great good fortune in the year to come, as they always do. We Growbies and our magic pets are very lucky creatures by nature, and now you, who are connected to us in the world-famous Rubble Club can be sure you will be lucky too, as long as you join in all the magical happenings, like my lucky club competitions for instance. So watch out for the next one, Rubble Clubbers!
What’s the weather like for you and your wonderful little pets, Rubblers? If your pet rocks are living indoors all the time, they will be missing the changes of weather that they once knew when they lived in the wild, and you might be wondering what to do about it. Well, when you have a collection of pet rocks as big as mine, you can’t fit them all on the windowsill to watch the clouds roll by, so you have to be creative in your thinking. My tip is this…paint them a few little pictures of different sky weather patterns and stick a different one on the wall next to them every day, like I do. Deep down they will know it’s not real, but it will show you understand what they are going through, and are doing your best to make them happy.
They will be having little guessing games with each other about what the weather will be doing tomorrow. They call it ‘the weather forecast game’. There’s no need to worry that it might encourage gambling, Rubble Clubbers, because they have no money after all. If they had, they would save it for a rainy day, like the wise little creatures that they are. I have noticed, however, that they are very fond of those tiny shells used to decorate their sandcastles. No sooner do I stick them in place, I find them dropped off onto the floor of the sand-pit in a heap. Perhaps they are being used for counters in some game they have dreamed up. They are such clever little chaps, aren’t they?
My parlour is getting very full today. There are faces I have not seen in long time, no doubt they had their consciences pricked by the Ancestors’ Day remembrances last week.
I might have to abandon the Rubble Club entrance in a minute and catch up on the gossip from Wanderella Windmeddler, chief wand-maker of the Magic Wand Factory of the Wandmakers’ Forest. There isn’t much in the way of trees here in Blackpool, so the Wandmakers’ Forest has turned out to be more like a shrubbery. She has been planting tree seeds as fast as she can but none of them have sprouted yet. I wonder if she has found herself a new apprentice yet? She’s been looking for as long as I can remember. My daughter Minnie had a go at being her apprentice but she couldn’t stand the racket from all those cuckoo clocks Wanderella has. She’ll be very lucky if she finds anyone mad enough to stay there.

Yoo hoo! Wanderella! How’s little Runey Runerock? Let me introduce him to some new little friends over there on the mantelpiece. He’s looking for a new brother, I can tell, or perhaps a sister, or an auntie? Leave him there while he thinks about it, and come and have a nice rock bun and a cup of gravel tea with me while we catch up.

Well, Rubble Clubbers, I’m off to mingle with the membership. I’ll speak to you again next week. I wish you and your little darlings a very happy, super-lucky week.
As ever, I am your faithful friend, encyclopedically knowledgeable pet rock expert and chairman, Madge Dumpling.

It’s Friday again, Rubble Clubbers and I Madge Dumpling, Undergrowby gnome, Quarry-mistress and devoted chairman of the world-famous Rubble Club, welcome pet rock lovers everywhere to today’s meeting. Members, send us some of your invisible cyber-energy will you, because those of us who are here will be needing it. There’s lots to prepare. Tomorrow is Ancestors’ Day in Undergrowby, when we remember the Olden Days of the ancestors and consult the map of mysteries through which their voices speak to us. To celebrate Ancestors’ Day properly, the Growbies ( as we Undergrowby gnomes are called), all flock respectfully to the eighth gnomestead of Undergrowby, the Rocky Headlands which, in the olden days, was an actual Rocky Headland in the north east of the ancient magical land of Undergrowby. It was a mountain beside the sea riddled with caves where wise hermits, teachers, librarians and keepers of ancient wisdom and relics could be found. At the foot of the inland face of the Rocky Headlands, across the path from the seven schools, was the stone quarry, home of the first pet rockery ever.

We Growbies have moved home several times since then, and our magical land has become smaller and smaller and more magical over the years (and so have we!). One day it may disappear for ever, but meanwhile we try to keep our dignity. Every time we move we have to refer to the ancient map of mysteries and decide where we and all our different magical specialities belong in the new place. If there are no mountains where the map shows one, we have to paint a picture of one, or build a model of one. We never forget the olden days and ways, because having things in their right kind of place,… that’s what makes the magic.

Now that we are living in Blackpool, we have tunneled around the area and decided to place the Rocky Headlands in the cliffs on the north promenade. If you look through the cracks in the rocks you might spot one of us tiny tunneling Growbies peeping out at you, and it might even be me, because that’s my place of work. It’s where I do my job as Rubble Club specimen collector, quarry-mistress and club chairman, and if you go there tomorrow, you may well spot me wandering around the rocks, thinking about the olden days, along with the other pet rock fanciers. The only difference between tomorrow and any other Saturday is that the whole population of Growbies will be there too, not just us sentimental, attractive Rubble Clubbers.

If we Growbies had coach trips like you humans, there would be coach trips full of gnomes arriving from every corner of the land to the Rocky Headlands tomorrow, so there will be hundreds of my famous rock buns required to feed them all. I was hoping you were going to all pitch in and help. I was also hoping for some volunteers to set out the ancient pet rock display for all to see and shed a tear over tomorrow. Every gnome has at least one pet rock (it’s traditional) so they will all have visited my adoption parlour at least once in their lives with their grandparents. The memories will come flooding back when they see my display tomorrow.

So, Rubble Clubbers, wherever you are, if you want to join in with tomorrow’s festivities, for the sake of making your pet rocks feel at home(because they never forget April 12th…they never forget anything…that’s their magic!), show them a big lump of rock or failing that, a picture of a mountain, and do some baking. They love the smell of rock buns baking, but any old family recipe will do. Then tell them your life story, all about your wise ancestors and the olden days. Take them on a trip round a graveyard or a monument and shed a tear or two. Otherwise they’ll think they are in the hands of a disrespectful heartless creature with no history.

R emember, Rubblers, its these kinds of golden moments they will remember forever. It’s their speciality, and they will treasure your memories for you, like the true friends they are.

Less chat and more action now, Rubblers! We have to get ready for tomorrow, so those of you who are not here to help, you are dismissed for now and I hope to see you and your lovely little rockies once again at next week’s meeting. Till then I remain your constant friend and chairman, little Madge Dumpling.

04/04/2008 by Madge

Hello again Rubble Clubbers, this is Madge Dumpling here again. The Growbies and I have just returned from the Rubble Club April Fools’ annual trip. For our trip last year we went rubbling around the cow-field nearby, but we lived in the country then. Now we live by the seaside so we went rubbling along the beach and had a picnic on the rocks. It made us think about something we had never had to think about before . The tide.

We sat for hours watching it, dropping hundreds of little pebbles and shells behind on the beach for us to collect. If we hadn’t picked them up, they would be swept up under the waves next time the tide came in. Those beach pebbles spend half their lives under water and half their lives high and dry on the beach, so it must be an awful shock for them to come home with us, get magicked into pet rocks and spend their entire lives in dryness.

So it’s official, these Blackpool pet rocks must definitely have their own little rock pool to sit in every now and again. It’s only fair, at least until they settle down. You can make a rock pool out of anything, a tea cup, a bowl, an egg cup, anything that will hold water. To make it more realistic you could put some sand in the bottom, and maybe some shells, and swish the water about with your fingers and make noises like the tide rushing, and seagulls squawking overhead. Make it up as you go along, Rubblers. I know I do. A dedicated, responsible pet rock owner is an inventive one.
In my little shop I have placed a little rock pool/ tidal hydrotherapy bowl which I have made, to demonstrate how cheerful the amphibious rockies are when sitting in the water. I hope my customers get the message. While I was at it, fiddling about making pottery, I made as few kennels and a sand-pit or two, complete with sand-castles, flags and tiny buckets and spades. If we had stayed in the country, the pet rocks would never have found out about such things, would they?

Hurray for Blackpool!

That brings us to the next competition. When you have made your own version of a rock pool for your little pets, send me a photo of it, complete with at least one pet rock enjoying the facility, and I will choose my favourite, (if more than one of you should enter, which is doubtful if your past performance is anything to go by!) The winner will win some pet rock paraphernalia, as usual.

I have to go now to get busy in the kitchen, to feed the trippers. It’s my duty. If you human members got a little bit more involved you would get invitations to the trips and parties too, but we can’t disclose details out there willy nilly, or the whole world would flock to our meeting places and there would be no room left on the beach for us.

Till next week, get in touch with your inner tidal flow, and make those rockies smile. I remain your devoted Rubble Club chairman and friend, Madge Dumpling.

28/03/2008 by Madge

Good day to you all, Rubble Clubbers. My parlour is almost full, but you can squeeze yourselves in somehow. There’s always room for invisible people like yourselves, luckily.

My little pet rock shelf inside the magic wand shop was well-visited over the Easter holidays, and as a result, many more pet rocks have found loving homes and the Rubble Club ranks will have therefore swollen somewhat. Let’s hope you newcomers are going to be keen, lively attenders of our weekly meetings, and let’s hope you are fonder of entering my fabulous competitions than the rest have been.

Apart from the beautiful, sun-tanned and happy humans who live around here, I have noticed that visitors from far and wide come to Blackpool to build sand-castles, and to watch the sun go down over the sea. Great big coaches arrive every day full of smiling humans with their buckets and spades. Now they are finding out it’s also the place to come to adopt pet rocks, so just watch, there’ll soon be coach parties arriving for more and more. I may have to take on an assistant if only I can find one with a touch of Dumpling magic like myself. Otherwise, how will I cope? I expect I will have to display a ‘SOLD OUT, PLEASE WAIT’ sign and make them queue round the block to wait for the next batch of rockies to hatch out. That may be a good thing. It will sort out the truly dedicated from the unsuitably impatient, won’t it?

Now, on to the business of the day. Seeds. Spring is the season for seed sowing, and I hope you are all busy sowing with a view to pet rock entertainment. They will need somewhere safe and pleasant to take the sun when the weather permits. Remember, they were outdoor creatures by birth, and although they are happy to be wherever you are, indoors or out, nothing would make them happier than to have their own little patch of earth where they can get back to nature now and again. They won’t run away, don’t worry. Give them a window box, a tub, a place in the border or rockery, or a plant-pot next to your deckchair. It will make them so happy, and that is all we want, isn’t it, Rubblers? It’s our job, after all. In case you want a tip on what seeds to sow, I will just whisper the word calendulas (pot marigolds). They are a magic herb for happiness, love and abundance. The magical effects of the calendula is said to be doubled by its being befriended by a pet rock. They get on like a pair of angels in your midst. I plant them every year. No wonder I am so happy and well-fed and well-loved. You can be too.

So, get sowing, Rubble Clubbers, till we meet again next Friday. Write to me with your queries and concerns, gossip and news reports. As always, I am your faithful friend and chairman, Madge Dumpling

21/03/2008 by Madge

Hello Rubble Clubbers, come on in, this is Madge Dumpling again, bright and early this week with some good news for you. the Growbies have fixed me up with a little shop to rent. Well, it’s more of a cupboard if I’m honest. They have been tunneling away,( because that’s what gnomes do) digging for roots and making underground homes for us all here in Blackpool as they go, and they have discovered something wonderful right above our heads. The wand-maker’s human apprentice, Granny Gray and her husband Granddad Gray, has opened a new shop above ground where humans have been coming to buy her clay wands all winter long.

That greedy Granny Gray had spread her work for sale all over the room without one thought for me and my hundreds of little homeless rockies. Did she think we wouldn’t find out? Well when the Undergrowby tunnelers dug their way up into the middle of the shop and saw what was happening they reported back to me immediately. I was up through that tunnel like quicksilver, I can tell you. I spotted a nice big cupboard perfect for my purposes.

I gave Granny Gray a good dressing-down about her greedy ways and shamed her into emptying the cupboard of her wares and handing me the keys to it. I have filled it up with a charming display of pet rocks and their accessories for all to see. My own little shop! Imagine! I have no time for shopkeeping myself of course. I have my own work to do, so Granny Gray is minding my stall for me. It’s the least she can do.

The tunnelers, who do follow-up checks for me, tell me the rockies are going to lovely luxurious homes. I myself listen through cracks in the shop floorboards to check if Granny and Granddad Gray are instructing potential new pet rock owners correctly in their new duties. The squeals of delight when new owners meet their little pets for the first time are music to my ears. I’m loving Blackpool and its delightful humans!

And now a treat for you, Rubble Clubbers, a picture of the winning sandcastle made by Headwin Boulder. You don’t deserve it, because none of you even bothered to enter the competition, but just in case you think it’s all a figment of my imagination, here it is. So there!

More news next time, from your devoted chairman and shop-owning friend, Madge Dumpling.

14/03/2008 by Madge

Hello Rubble Clubbers, Madge Dumpling here again, and what a week this has been! Spring mayhem! All the Growbies are up and about again now spring has sprung, and they’re all over the place, exploring Blackpool. We all moved here just in time to go to sleep for the winter, so there was no time for exploration then.

The first job for the plantation workers is to decide where to establish their new Blackpool plantation, which will be named the Spring Green, and it must be in the east, which is lucky, because if it had to be in the west it would be ending up on the beach, where it would be washed away along with all those sandcastles every time the tide turns.
At the moment, they are having to make do with scattering nettle seeds into a few plant pots behind the pottery, but they have designs on Gynn Gardens,just around the corner. If any of you Rubble Club members have a bit of land to offer them, all you have to do is offer, and they’ll turn it into the Spring Green quicker than you can say nettle patch.

One wonderful piece of information has arisen from the spring explorations is concerning those edible pink Blackpool rocks which I was hoping were the stuff of fairy tales to scare pet rocks off to sleep. The Growbies have been meeting the local residents and shopkeepers, swapping our famous(in Undergrowby) confectionary line, tangle-root crunch, for some sweet multi-coloured sugar sticks wrapped in clear paper, bearing the title “Blackpool Rock”. How dare they
use the word ‘rock’ so loosely? It looks nothing like a rock, does it? I dare say many of you Rubble Clubbers already knew what this Blackpool Rock legend was all about and not one of you thought to contact me to put my mind at rest about it. And there I was, thinking there were cannibals about with a taste for snacking on Blackpool-born pink pet rocks. Now I can stop bolting the door hiding all the pink rockies whenever I hear human footsteps outside. Blackpool rock sticks are very nice, but I still prefer tangle-root crunch. It’s that tantalising blend of dandelion root sugar and nettle stings. They make your taste buds tingle.
As for the sandcastle competition, I am awarding the prize to Headwin Boulder who is now the reigning Undergrowby sandcastle champion. As none of you silent shy cyber-space members even bothered to enter yet again, I have decided to sulk and not publish the photo of it, which is now on view on my mantelpiece. A copy will only be sent to all who take the trouble to send me an email requesting it. Headwin has won the box of pet rock paraphernalia including pet rock toilet, rocking chair, perch, feeding bowl and baby bed, along with three almost identical orphans who are triplets, found together in the rubble, a truly rare phenomenon. Now, Rubblers, aren’t you jealous? Well, it serves you right.
I’m of for a walk in the spring winds now, to see what I can find down there at the foot of the rocks down by the sea-front. The tide is out, so I might even risk going down and down and down onto the sand. Some foreign pet rocks may have tumbled in with the tide, lying there exhausted on the beach. It wouldbe too cruel to let them tumble out again.
I’ll be here again next week, Rubblers. Help yourselves to rock buns.
Your friend and devoted chairman, Madge Dumpling

07/03/2008 by Madge

Good day to you one and all, Rubble Clubbers. It’s a bit crowded here today because Spring has sprung in Undergrowby and all the Growbies who have been sleep all winter long are now awake and out in force exercising their pet rocks like the responsible pet owners that they are. This is the first Friday of the Undergrowby new year and no pet rock owner worth his salt would miss today’s meeting. It’s a grand reunion! My baking is in spectacular demand and my parlour shelves are full to bursting with visiting pet rocks who, like their owners, have not seen the light of day all winter long. They have missed our competitions, haven’t they, Rubblers, and all those glittering prizes which were up for grabs while they slept. As luck would have it, no one entered the competitions anyway, so they are still in with a chance. Excuse me for a moment while I hand them all a bucket of sand and get them busy round the kitchen table making sand-castles. The sand castle competition may yet be won!

Right, that’s them busy, now back to business. I have told them and I am telling you that I intend to judge that pesky sand castle competition this week, so, all you Rubble Clubbers out there in cyber-space, if you want to win the star prize of an assortment of pet rock paraphernalia, can you compete with these little Growbies around my kitchen table or not? I shall be publishing the winning photo next Friday, so be quick. Send your sand castle photos to madgedumpling@undergrowby.co.uk

I have to warn you, Rubblers, I am worn out today, thanks to all the spring festivities, maypole dancing and maypole ribbon swapping, spring cleaning, cabbage planting, blossom counting, not to mention baking for today, the busiest meeting of the year. All the rock buns are gone already, as I expected. That makes a pleasant change anyway.

Let me introduce you to some of the members. this is Mavis Mudfield, a nimble fingered knitter and seamstress from the Home Plains. She only collects the pink pet rocks because she likes to match them to her decor. I’ll tell you more about her later when she isn’t listening. And this is Headwin Boulder, the boy from the sweet shop nearby in the Rocky Headlands. He is a big strong boy, very brainy and he’s the star pupil of Miss Tick, his teacher, who is supervising his sand-castle construction project as we speak. If he does not win the competition, Miss Tick will be quite astonished, but don’t be discouraged, Rubblers, you could beat him if only you would enter.

Over there scowling in the corner, her rather large frame squeezed into my own pet rocking chair and refusing to move, is Lettuce Tweaver, chief basket-maker and bully from the Basketmakers’ house in the Wandmaker’s Forest. Oh, she has just heard about the prize and she is heading for the sand castle table. Look! Her pockets are stuffed with my rock buns, the greedy girl! Quick, let me tiptoe across and sneak myself back into my chair while I can. I’ll introduce you to her some other time.

There are lots more members and their accompanying scandalous gossip yet to be introduced, but one week at a time, Rubble Clubbers, one week at a time! this week, I’m not moving from my chair again. I’m going to sit here and watch the pet rocks mingling amongst themselves getting up to no mischief at all as usual. You can always depend upon that, can’t you, Rubblers? Till next week I remain your faithful friend and chairman Madge Dumpling.

29/02/2008 by Madge

Hello Rubble Clubbers. Welcome all you nervous new members and to all you lovely cheeky regulars. I hope you, like me, are all set for Mothers’ day on Sunday. Motherly-looking pet rocks all need to be polished and groomed and lined up ready for the orphans to present their pretty little cards to them. Orphans need to be polished and groomed and cards glued by their sides. See mine over there on the windowsill, orphans on one side, mothers on the other? That’s the way I like it.

I like to see everything prepared well in advance as you know, because these sentimental occasions matter!

Now, Rubble Clubbers, it has come to my attention that some of these little orphan rockies have been guilty of an occasional accident of a toilet-related kind, and droppings have been brought to me by way of proof. I’m still not convinced. My little pets are bred for their clean habits. In all the hundreds of years I have been raising pet rocks such a thing has never been heard of until now. I suspect the suspicious little black blobs were more likely dropped by a thoughtless passing spider.

Nevertheless, responsible as ever(you know me by now, Rubblers!), I have designed a pet rock litter tray complete with toilet roll, and for those who are worried about their furniture being plopped-on by their pet rocks(I still don’t believe it), you can add one to your pet rock paraphernalia and I recommend you sit your little rockies on it for a few minutes every now and then, together with some kind of command, like “Do a doo doo, or poo poo” or something of that kind, and being the obliging little creatures that they are, they will do their best to produce something for you. If they start to look worried or stressed when they are on the toilet, please give up on the toilet training and let them go back to the windowsill in peace. As I said, I am not at all sure they were ever capable of doing anything at all in the first place! Mine quite like sitting there, however. I think they think it’s a sand pit. None of them has pooed at all to date, as I expected. If you want to join in the experiment, you will have to contact me to purchase a toilet of your own, or make one in a match box or bottle top filled with sand. Remember the little toilet roll(soft of course), which I expect you to make from only the best ingredients.

I see no one has entered the competition again. Ah, well.

Help yourselves to gravel tea and rock buns but please do not eat every last bun on the plate because I need to save some for the mothers’ day tea party. Although I would normally sleep through till next Friday(in fits and starts because I am not the most skillful of sleepers), I have set my alarm for tea time on Sunday, when I will be doing the Mothers’ Day card presenting ceremony for those poor little orphan rockies. Well, they can’t do it for themselves, can they, Rubblers, eh?

I’ll leave you now, one and all. Have a lovely week until we meet again. Your friend and chairman, Madge Dumpling.

22/02/2008 by Madge

Hello Rubble Clubbers, and welcome to the last meeting in February(your time) and one of the many lonely meetings of wintertime (Undergrowby time, my time). I don’t know how you humans keep going all winter long the way you do. At least I only have to be on top form one day a week (today, Friday) doing my duties here for pet rocks everywhere. The other six days of the week I’ll be dozing away the winter in my little bed cupboard down in the cellar, so don’t trouble yourself to come visiting. Nobody will hear you knocking at the door.

This week, I’ve emptied the table ready for a craft session, Rubblers. We’ll be making Mothers’ Day cards for those little orphan rockies to send to the nearest thing they can find to a mother. Help yourselves to paper and paints, that’s it! You don’t have to be artistic, just a few dots of colour and a few sentimental words, like “Be My Mother” or “I’ve Got No One on Mothers’ Day” or “Am I yours?”or anything else you can think of that would help melt hearts of stone and bring out the mothering instinct in those childless adult rocks. Good luck with that Rubblers. I wish you and those poor orphans well. Now, keep those little cards secret till Mothers’ Day, by which time you will have decided which orphans will have which card glued to their hearts and which adult they will be targetting. If by some strange chance you have no suitable adults, this would be a good time to get some, ready for Mothers’ Day. It would be very sad and depressing for them if those orphans had your lovely home-made cards and no one to give them to! Better to forget celebrating Mothers’Day all together. (But then, you could lend them your own mother for the day, couldn’t you? Tell her to reassure them by dressing up like a pet rock for a while now and again. They’ll be thrilled!)

By next week’s meeting I want you to promise me you will find mothers for them all, because these cards you are making are just too beautiful to waste.

Now, next on the agenda is the competition. I know you will be as surprised as me Rubble Clubbers, when I announce that sadly, nobody at all has entered the pet rock sandcastle competition. The tantalising star prize is still waiting. Does nobody want it?

Right, that’s your Mothers’ Day cards done! Excellent work, Rubblers. Now I’ll serve the tea and rock buns. They’re nice and well done as usual, burned to a crisp, just how we like them. Eeeh, it’s thirsty work being a pet rock collector, isn’t it?

I’m going to leave you now to talk among yourselves while I go and line up all the volunteering-to-be-a foster-mother pet rocks along the mantlepiece for you to consider.

We’ll meet again, Rubble Clubbers, next Friday, same place, not sure what time, it depends when you turn up

Your devoted chairman, Madge Dumpling