Rubble Club Archives

Hello pet rock lovers, this is Madge Dumpling, chairman of the Rubble Club of Undergrowby welcoming you and your little rockies to this week’s meeting here in the Rocky Headlands of Undergrowby. I expect you were thinking how nice and tidy and clean my parlour is today, well it’s all thanks to my little winged helpers, the elf twins from the elf spa, my good neighbours and devoted pet rock fanciers. They (quite rightly) consider it their duty to come over with their mops and brushes on a rescue mission once a week, searching for fallen pet rocks from dark, dusty corners between my furniture where (I pretend) they otherwise would remain unnoticed for years because my eyesight is not what it used to be. I’ll let you into a secret, Rubble Clubbers, I have planted them there. They haven’t fallen at all. The twins have hearts of gold and their cleaning skills are world famous, but they are not very bright.
Every time they come they leave with a handful of my naughtiest, dustiest little rockies, who will be sure of a nice, kind, shiny clean home at the Elf Spa and I get my sweeping and dusting done for nothing. You may think me sneaky and mean, but as you know, I am too busy and important to be spring cleaning all the time, and they just live to mop, after all.
Living in Undergrowby, here in Blackpool, is turning out to be very wonderful. There is so much for pet rocks to do and see. A whole new world has opened up for them, and for me. For instance, a troupe of line-dancers came into the Magic Wand Factory shop on Dickson Road and made a beeline (as line-dancers do) for my pet rock shelf. Of course, they all just had to have a pet rock to stick down the bands of their cowboy hats. I can only imagine that now somewhere out there, line-dancing away in some posh ballroom, are my little rockies, memorizing all the dance steps for their lucky new owners. I feel almost guilty that I never considered that they might have been missing all this fun for so many hundreds of years. Thank goodness for Blackpool and its strange but wonderful mix of humans!
It has made me think about what other pet rock hobbies we can find for their entertainment. In the area of water sports, I have discounted swimming and water skiing, because though they are good, brave divers, making a sweet little plopping sound as they enter the water, they have no arms and legs to keep them moving, and if not rescued they would drown. I think they would like sailing, perhaps on a nice big model boat built especially for the purpose, or sitting safely next to you in a rowing boat on the lake, guarding your picnic basket. Be sure to take some extra food for the ducks and seagulls though, or they might be tempted to make a dinner out of your little friend instead. Many a pet rock has been taken and met with a sticky end while out on the cliffs, innocently bird-watching (one of the more traditional pet rock hobbies, along with people-watching, meditating and dust-collecting). What hobbies do your pet rocks have, Rubble Clubbers? I am offering prize for the best new innovative pet rock hobby, to reward those of you who have considered the matter, even briefly.
I would now like to reply to my emails, well, email. Hello Linedancer. Your elegant prefect’s badge is nearly ready and awaiting firing in Grandpa Gray’s kiln, when he finally gets round to fixing the broken elements, and that gossipy old Granny Gray, my shopkeeper, who spies upon my emails, read your approving comments about her and now thinks she is quite perfect and world-famous like myself.
And she isn’t.
I am sorry I haven’t done any baking this week. I didn’t want to mess up my nice clean kitchen, so instead of eating, this week you can nibble on one of those Blackpool slimline seaweed fronds which I have stacked-up so artistically on this plate, while I take you on a tour round my kitchen and you can tell me how sparkling it is. I’ll be back to normal cooking up a storm next week, so don’t expect to get into the kitchen at all then.
I have to go now, Rubblers, so give some thought to what useful, life enhancing hobbies you can invent for your pet rocks before next week, even if it’s only stamp-collecting, and we can swap ideas between us when we meet again. Till then I remain your world-famous devoted friend and chairman, Madge Dumpling.

Hello, Madge Dumpling here again welcoming you to this week’s meeting of the Rubble Club of Undergrowby. Thanks to my soon-to-be prefect, Linedancer, who kindly wished for sunshine, we have had lovely weather all week here in Blackpool, and I am building up to telling you all about the magical triangular implications of summertime, which feels like it might have arrived early, thanks to you, Linedancer. Granny Gray has just arrived at the meeting and is making a beeline for my delicious new sandy rock puddings. She is within earshot, so we can’t gossip about her today. Hey, Granny! don’t forget your diet! We don’t want you looking like a dumpling behind that counter, no matter how much you hope people will mistake you for a Dumpling. There’s only one Madge Dumpling, Rubble Clubbers, and that’s me.
Where was I? I was getting on to the triangular implications of summertime, which seem to be completely ignored in the human world, but now you own a pet rock, you will need to know about Undergrowby’s magical little ways in order to keep your rockies perfectly in harmony with the seasons.
Summer is the shining, heart-warming season of the fire element. If you observe the shape of a fire, you will see it is triangular, with the point at the top, its hottest spot. At the very top, the point disappears into nothing, but the heat still rises into the air, towards the invisibles, the angels and ancestors in High Heaven, who embody its light and heat. That’s why they are sparkly, tiny, shiny and happy all the time. We need to keep them that way because they are in charge of blessings and good luck.
Now, for those who do not know, the map of Undergowby is also a map of the human body upside down. The fire element area, the Summerlands, is at the bottom of the map but at the top of the body. In the body, the base of the fire, the hearth, is at the heart centre. If it is glowing well, the heart and mind is at peace(Heart and hearth sound very much alike, don’t they, Rubble Clubbers?) The flames rise from the hearth to light up the chambers of the mind and shine out somewhere between the eyes in a kind of rosy glow beaming upon life, seeing the good in everything. The tip of the triangle ends somewhere in the invisible, heavenly-connection space just above the head. We Growbies know how important this space is and we wear pointed hats to keep it cosy. The better our fire is shining, the more pointy our hats become. You can tell a lot about a Growby by the nature of his or her hat.
Now, on to houses. You might have noticed, those of you who have visited my pet rock department in the Magic Wand Factory Shop in Dickson Road, Blackpool, that my pet rock kennels have a pointed roof. That is to keep the pet rocks’ triangles cosy while they rest. When they and indeed us, Rubble Clubbers, are exhausted or cold, and our inner fires start to grow dim, our triangles shrink and droop. It’s only natural. We need rest. You humans have not yet learned the life skill of wearing pointed hats, so you need more rest in summertime than us Growbies. Pet rocks have the most magnificent triangles of any species on earth, and after a little rest in their kennel, are able to radiate enough peace and joy from the chambers of their great minds to fill the whole room with love.
If you cannot get a kennel, I would advise you make your pet rocks a little pointed paper tent in which to rest, or if you want to really spoil them, even a little pointed hat. Think of it like a solar panel, because in summertime, pet rocks can absorb and compress acres of sunshine into their little triangles to power their limitless memory banks, ready for the challenge of winter, which is governed not by fire but by water.
I think you have the triangular picture now, Rubble Clubbers. There’s more to pet rock keeping than I like to say at first, in case it puts people off, but what’s good for a pet rock is good for its owners too, and you can learn a lot about yourself by sharing their little lives. You could try sleeping in a pointed hat yourselves, Rubble Clubbers, and see how your triangle feels in the morning. You might decide to keep it on all day like me, Madge Dumpling, who remains, as ever, your devoted chairman and friend, till we meet again.

Hello all you pet rock lovers everywhere! This is Madge Dumpling from the Rocky Headlands of Undergrowby welcoming you once again to the world-famous Rubble Club, social venue for pet rocks and their lucky owners. Are the pet rocks sitting comfortably where they can see the screen? They are very good readers and will be hanging on my every word, won’t you rockies? I am glad to see your nice kind owners are seeing to your every need once again, bringing you to the Rubble Club, but then, you wouldn’t have chosen them if they had looked mean, would you?
I have had some correspondence this week from that beautifully-named Linedancer again. She kindly informed me that she spotted Granny Gray, my shop assistant, wandering out and about in Blackpool, sunning herself when she should have been looking after the Magic Wand Factory shop on Dickson Road, finding homes for my pet rocks. Thank you for your spying work, Linedancer. I have had stern words with her and she has promised to do better in future. I am thinking of making you a nice prefect’s badge for that, Linedancer. It might take me a while, because I am a perfectionist in my work, as you all know (unlike that Granny Gray, who apparently needs constant supervision!) If your niece Laura is half as dedicated as you she will be made a prefect too.
Right, on to business. Sunburn. In case you have been wasting money on sunblock cream for your pet rocks, I can assure you that they do not get sunburn. In fact they thrive on sunshine. It reminds them of my fireside where they were born, and it makes them relax and let their hearts expand joyfully. It also expands their memory banks, so they can remember all your important facts and figures for you. If you have a hat, perhaps you could make them a little seat at the front of it, or sew them on to it permanently for the summer months. They could do all the snooping they need to do then, and will never fear missing an outing. Granny Gray has a hat but she never thinks about choosing one with space for a few little rockies. She keeps them in her handbag though, so though they can’t see much, they can listen in to her conversations. It’s a shame they are more discreet than you, Linedancer, and keep all her comings and goings and juicy gossip to themselves, no matter how much I interrogate them.
While I am roaming about behind the cliff paths on Blackpool Promenade, looking for rock specimens, I see and overhear quite a lot myself. This week, I was listening in to a conversation between two humans and one of them had a laptop a bit like my own magic laptop, only bigger. They were not visiting the Rubble Club, oddly, but instead they were wasting time looking at photos of themselves writing all about themselves and their friends for the whole world to read about them. They were in a place in the spider’s web called “their space”. At first I thought they were just show-offs, and I was tempted to shout at them to get to the Rubble Club at once and stop showing off, but then I thought about it and I think I am going to find a space of my own somewhere to tell everyone in the world about myself (and of course you, Rubble Clubbers), and we’ll call it “our space”, or just “my space” if nobody else wants to join in. Just think about all those extra members we might get if only I can figure out how to do it. When everybody sees my nice pretty face and the dear little faces of the pet rocks, they won’t be able to resist popping along to meet with us all on a Friday here in my invisible parlour. Perhaps we’ll have to have an invisible extension built to accommodate them all.
All of you members will be able to send photos of yourselves with your little pets. You may not be as beautiful as me but don’t let that put you off. Be getting your photos taken ready for when I work it all out, Rubble Clubbers. We don’t want people thinking you don’t exist, do we?
And now some very sad news. Grandad Gray, who plays on my magic laptop to his heart’s content while I am out, says I have had three emails but he has had to delete them because at least one of them was carrying a virus, and he was afraid they would infect me with a deadly disease. I will therefore never know what they said, so if they were from you, please write back to me without including the virus. Grandad Gray fears too much for my health to allow me to dice with death reading infectious information in the line of duty. I am grateful to him.
I have a competition for you. Where do you keep your pet rocks? The one who comes up with the nicest-sounding environment for their pet rockery will win a fabulous prize, which I have not prepared yet, but you will like it, rest assured.
Help yourselves to rock buns, Rubble Clubbers, because I have to go now and mingle with the membership. Till next Friday, I remain your faithful friend and chairman, Madge Dumpling.

Welcome once again, Rubble Clubbers, to the world-famous Rubble Club of the magical world of Undergrowby. This is Madge Dumpling, Quarrymistress of the Rocky Headlands, Rubble Club Chairman and pet rock whisperer at your service, inviting you to sample a new recipe I have concocted for today’s members’ buffet, crusty seaweed nibbles. It’s that final sprinkling of sand and grated shells that makes them so crunchy and delicious. Go on, try one. I know many of you only come to steal my recipes, so I have to ring the changes.
Today I think I need to spend some time talking to you about spring ailments in pet rocks, so you can recognize the symptoms and treat them. The first and most important is depression. The first signs of it are red eyes. Even a faint flush of pink in the eyes is good enough reason to watch out for a temper tantrum. Then stiffness and rigidity and crossed-eyes (even more than usual) will start to come on, after which they will sink into a black mood which can last for weeks if untreated.
The cause of it is threefold. Firstly, it’s spring and pet rocks love the summer and although normally patient and reasonable, there is something in the east wind in spring that brings out the tyrant in them. When spring is coming to an end, try though they might, they just can not wait for summer to begin. The good thing is, time passes and with it the sulkiness.
The second cause is draughts, again from the east wind. People have a tendency to open windows during spring cleaning and oblivious to the toxic effects of the east wind, allow their pet rocks to sit by east-facing open windows for a treat. It is perfectly safe to do so in every other season but not in spring. In spring the east wind is a powerful force for change. It is like as magic wand, blowing out the old and in with the new, often carrying seeds of wealth, but pet rocks dislike change and have no use for wealth. They like to be confident of exactly who and where they are because they have to hold on to their history in their vast memory banks, like the mountains whose block they are a chip off.
The third is lack of attention. If you were a pet rock left on a shelf unable to move yourself to where interesting things are happening you would get angry and frustrated too. At all times of
the year this is the case, but especially in spring when the poor little things already contending with all the other aforementioned dangerous influences. We two-legged ones also suffer from the spring moods as well, but at least if we are feeling grumpy we can walk up to someone nice and cuddly and link arms for comfort. They can’t, so the best advice I can give you to stave off the pet rock spring rages is to keep them about your person at all times, then they will have so much snooping, eavesdropping and fact-remembering to do, they won’t even realize spring is here.
I am sure that most of you Rubble Clubbers will have no spring trouble at all, no red eyes, no rigidity and no tantrums, because like me, you treat your pet rocks like princes and princesses, well-loved, well-socialised, in your pocket and in touch with their own kind every week here at the Rubble Club. However, like the devoted pet rock handlers that you are, I know you like to learn all my time-honoured techniques for advanced pet rock welfare. So there you are, learn them you have! Before you start getting above your station and thinking you will have my job very soon, I must advise you you have a long way to go yet. Your expertise will need sharpening for a few hundred years before you can hope to snatch my chairman’s crown away.
I must go and mingle with the membership now, Rubblers, so until we meet again, I remain your devoted chairman, friend and world-leading expert, Madge Dumpling.

Hello Rubble Clubbers, Madge Dumpling again, and a great big welcome to you all. I haven’t started cooking yet, I’ve been so busy reading and re-reading my two wonderful emails from cyber-space. I was beginning to wonder whether I was imagining you all. What wonderful names you have out there, Anonymous and Linedancer for instance. I have added them to my long list of suggestions for pet rock names. Anonymous, can you hear me my friend? Thank you for your kind words of comfort. Are you far away in cyberspace or are you here at the meeting? Its so hard to tell. If you ever come into the Magic Wand shop at the sea end of Dickson Road, Blackpool, I have saved you a rune rock. Just mention my name and yours and it will be handed to you.
And now on to my other new email penpal and new rune rock owner, the lovely Linedancer, who recklessly shared information with that gossipy Granny Gray, the shopkeeper, about her kind and gentle niece, Laura, who has some lucky little rockies of her own. I must warn you, Linedancer, she tells me everything she hears but luckily for you I am the soul of discretion and will only tell my entire membership (and most of them are invisible gnomes). From what I have gleaned from the old gossip, all I can say is that I wish Laura could be here in person because I would shower her with fabulous little treats for being such an animal lover like myself. Laura, if you are here at the meeting, I daresay, animal-lover that you are, you are worrying and wracked with guilt about keeping your pet rocks in captivity, and wondering if they might be happier on a mountainside somewhere with others of their own kind. Well, let me put your mind at rest. Search though you might for a nice place to release them back into the wild, you won’t find one. There are NO others of their own kind out there on any mountainsides, rubble heaps, quarries or pebbly beaches anywhere in the world. I have just rescued them from all that, magicked them into the life for which they were always destined and now their idea of heaven is in right there in your safe, warm pocket, Laura. The nearest to the great outdoors they want to be is having a little sunbathe in a plant pot next to your deckchair. Pet rocks are the ultimate animal lover’s guilt-free delight because of it.
And now on to more animal-themed business. Donkeys. It has come to my attention while listening in to conversations through chinks in the ‘cliffs’ that there are these jingling four-legged creatures who visit Blackpool beach to give fun to little children who ride on their backs. It reminds me of an old Undergrowby folk tale about the Paradise Donkey.
When someone is especially kind to others and shares their burdens and troubles without complaint again and again, it is said they will be visited one day by the Paradise Donkey, a tiny angel animal, who will appear returning towards them in the river of time, decked in flowers, and carry them forward into a life gifted and blessed by the angels and ancestors, who see and reward everything we do from their perches in the far away misty mountaintop gnomestead known as High Heaven. A paradise donkey is a very lucky creature, much painted and sculpted by Undergrowby artists as good luck charms. Growbies give them to each other as a way of saying ‘Thank you, and I hope the Paradise Donkey calls on you soon”, a common gift theme in Undergrowby.
I am wondering if these four-legged creatures may be a giant version of the same thing? So far I have not spotted one, so perhaps I am not destined for ancestral blessings and good fortune just yet. If you spot one before me, Rubble Clubbers, and decide to send your pet rocks off on a donkey ride, make sure they are tied on securely, with a rubber band or sticky tape, perhaps.
I really do have to start cooking now. Headwin Boulder, who only comes for the rock buns, is putting his coat on and is about to leave. ‘Stop, Headwin! look, I am just about to start. Have a stick of that Blackpool rock to put you on.” (It really looks nothing like a rock does it? Good job, I say. Cannibalism is frowned upon amongst pet rock lovers. If I ever see any of you eating one of your pet rocks, I will confiscate your entire collection immediately)
Take good care of your little darlings and enjoy the holidays. A little trip to Blackpool, perhaps, to enjoy the sunset over the sea and stock up on pet rocks? If so, tell your secrets to Granny Gray and we’ll all be reading about them next week. Until we meet again next Friday. I remain your devoted chairman and discreet friend, Madge Dumpling.