Rubble Club Archives

Hello and welcome! This is Madge Dumpling speaking to you from the headquarters of the Rubble Club, my cosy little parlour here in the Stone Quarry of Undergrowby. It has been a very exciting week for me here, just below the surface of sunny Blackpool. Granny Gray, my shopkeeper has been selling my little rockies to lots of lovely kind new owners and the rubble club membership is bursting at the seams. As you are all invisible to me, I can only hope that you are not all trying to cram yourselves into my parlour at this moment. If you are, speak up for yourselves please, because it would be easy for me to find a larger venue. The Belvedere Hotel on Blackpool Promenade has offered me the run of the place if I should ever need it, (but more of their goings-on later, Rubble Clubbers.) If you remain silent, how can I ever know what you and your little pets want? Up to this week, only two of you have ever spoken out loud, via the comments box displayed somewhere on the screen. Now, this week I am delighted to hear from a lovely young lady called Sally, who was bright and intelligent enough to find the comments button and kind enough to use it to speak to me. Granny Gray remembers her quite clearly. She took quite a shine to her and no wonder. She is a world traveller and great sportswoman, unlike myself. I never go whizzing along fast(I might miss something) and I stick to my home ground, once I have decided where that is. Sally can do the world travelling on behalf of the Rubble Club from now on, and the sports medal-winning as well.
Off you go then, Sally, with your lucky world-travelling pet rock, Polley, and your purple magic wand. I’m waving you off with a grief-stricken tear in my eye, hoping you will return to talk to me again once you have conquered the world, and your pet rock along with you. I have only just heard your voice and now I am losing you to your travels. It would be so exciting for the pet rocks and their owners to hear from you from far away, knowing that one of them is out there having dangerous adventures, flying through the sky and cheering at those terrifying sporting events. Oh, do try to find a laptop wherever you are and report back to us once a week. If we hear nothing we will assume you have heartlessly abandoned us to not knowing what became of you. Nevertheless, Sally and Polley, my heart and the heart of the Rubble Club will be with you forever, wishing you great happiness and glorious success.
I now have to report that I have been invited to open another pet rock shop inside an old phonebox inside the Belvedere Hotel on the North Promenade. I have sent that world-famous artist and shopkeeper, Granny Gray, to paint a nice picture of Undergrowby on the wall and a nice young man and soon-to-be member of the Rubble Club, is then going to put some shelves up to display my pet rocks. Granny Gray foolishly told him about all the other Undergrowby pottery products she sells and now he wants more than just my pet rocks in there. Granny Gray will never learn to keep her big mouth shut. It was I who stumbled up the steps to the Belvedere: it was I who befriended the owners and it was I who was offered the phone-box for my own use and now it is going to be cluttered up with all that other stuff. Well, all I can say is if my pet rocks are not on the best shelf, I shall be having words. I have had a wander round the rooms in there and I must say, it is much posher than the Magic Wand Factory shop on Dickson Road. I have booked the back corner of the wardrobe in the Belvedere’s new platinum suite for my birthday party once it opens. I promised to be very quiet, so if some humans have booked it for the same week, I will be no trouble. I am as invisible to the humans as they are to me anyway, so we won’t even know each other are there.
The aforementioned world-famous artist and shopkeeper, Granny Gray, painted my portrait on my new range of pet rock laptops, and she did an appalling job of it. She says I am just being vain when I complain that it looks nothing like me and it is so small, you can only just make me out. Contrary to her notions, it will have to be re-done when she can find the time. Meanwhile, the current portrait will have to suffice, and it will probably be an issue so short-lived(if I have my way) it will become a much sought-after collectors’ item. I am gratified, but not surprised to be informed by my trusty prefect, Linedancer that her pet rocks are tingling with anticipation at the promise of getting one, so there you are! Linedancer, for all your efforts you are still the world’s number one most devoted pet rock owner. There may be many more out there as good as you but how am I to know? They don’t write to me. As long as they remain silent, they will never be getting badges and little treats like you.
The Undergrowby members are piling in now, expecting to be waited upon, so I have to leave my laptop and put my apron on. Until next week then, Rubble Clubbers, as ever,I remain your devoted chairman and friend you can rely on, Madge Dumpling.

Hello and welcome once again to my cosy little parlour, Rubble Clubbers. This is Madge Dumpling speaking, quarry-mistress of the Stone Quarry of Undergrowby, expert pet rock handler and chairman of the Rubble Club. For those of you who are over six inches tall and therefore unable to fit through my doorway, please sit your pet rocks where they can see my magical, familiar face on the computer screen and imagine yourselves enjoying my world-famous rock cakes and gravel tea with the other members and their pet rocks who will be arriving at any moment. I am told that visualising something provides around forty percent of the benefits of actually doing it.( I visualise doing keep fit exercises myself, for that reason.)
Pet rocks are great fans of the familiar, homely things in life. Like chips off the mountain from which they originated, whose caves house all the history books and engravings since time began, they never forget a thing, and of all the faces in the world, (apart from your own) they will certainly remember my face. It was after all the first face they ever saw after they hatched out beside my fire. I am quite adamant that they need a regular glimpse of me and it worries me that some of you do not regularly attend these meetings(except you, Linedancer, my dear prefect and friend, who are almost as exemplary as myself in your dutiful ways).
After a period of creative thinking on the subject, I have ordered some pet rock-sized tiny laptops to be made by the Undergrowby Toolmaker. My little face will be permanently emblazened on the screen, for their reassurance. I will be incorporating some of my own powerful Dumpling magic into each one, so it should have an instantly calming effect upon an entire viewing audience of pet rocks. I wish it to be a bit like the effect a dummy has on a baby. I just hope it does not bring out the competitive streak in a pet rock community as they vie for a front row seat at the laptop. For those of you caring enough to obtain one from the Magic Wand Factory shop on Dickson Road, Blackpool, I will have to entrust you with the job of devising a rota, and thus circulating its use fairly amongst your pet rocks, because as you will know by now, like their common ancestors, the mountains, they do get stuck in their ways and resist being shifted once they are in position. And really, why should any one of them be the favourite? It can only rock the contented little world of the others, and we don’t want that, do we, Rubble Clubbers?
Regular Rubble Club attenders will remember a few weeks ago that there was a pet rock population explosion here in Undergrowby. Well, it was all to the good, and one of life’s magical coincidences, because it seems that since then, here in sunny, bright, beautiful Blackpool, droves of people were destined to arrive in cars and coaches for the express purpose of visiting the Magic Wand Factory to adopt every single pet rock they can get their hands on. I wonder how they found out about them? Never mind. It keeps that gossipy, doddery old Granny Gray(who runs the shop for me) from having too much time on her hands to go off sunning herself on the promenade. If there’s one thing she likes better than a good old gossip or a sunbathing session, it’s wrapping up hundreds of pet rocks with that crackly paper and ribbons that she has stashed behind the counter. Between you and me, I think she’s unhealthily addicted to fiddling around with that crackly paper. Sometimes I catch her making balls of tissue paper and wrapping them up in it, tying ribbons round it, and she pretends she’s ‘just perfecting her art’. But I know she’s getting old, and unlike myself, has no real expertise of her own to be proud of, so I say nothing.

The hotels are full of pet rock fanciers, and those bingo sessions, (of which there are hundreds in Blackpool), will soon be making way for international pet rock fanciers conventions, mark my words. If you would like me to inform you of these events as they occur, you only have to ask. I will point you to the best places to stay. I have been noseying around Undergrowby’s underground tunnels leading to cellars and back yards of hotels looking for interesting specimens, and you’d be surprised how cosy and homely many of them are. Many of them even have cute little gnome flaps fitted on their back doors. Encouraged by this helpful, welcoming feature, I am becoming quite a knowledgeable hotel inspector. And if their cellars and back yards are cosy and welcoming, imagine what their front entrances, dining rooms and bedrooms are like! Fit for royalty I expect. Well, actually , I know that they are, because being naturally curious and explorative, I do a bit of wandering about once I am indoors. Anyway, I have my favourites and I consider it my duty to pass on my useful expert information to all you hundreds of Rubble Clubbers planning to come to Blackpool in the near future (perhaps to organise one of those conventions, or to bring a coach trip of local branch members to stock up on pet rocks). If you are under six inches tall, you can sleep on the couch in my parlour free of charge, as long as you don’t mind the sound of all the pet rocks(and myself) rummaging around in the night. Alternatively, if you are on the tall side, as I suspect many of you are, you will have to ask for my recommendations.
Wherever you stay, if it is one of my recommendations, I will send along a side order of my freshly baked rock cakes to cater for your pet rocks in the way that only I can. It’s my job, after all, Rubble Clubbers. Nobody does it better.
Ah, here are the members, arriving for their weekly chat, and pet rock grooming demonstration. I had better get my expert’s grooming kit out and entertain them all. I have been making brushes for the members all week, with hairs plucked from an old toothbrush which I found sticking out of a glass in one of those hotels. I have glued a few hairs into the end of pieces of drinking straws I snatched from the patio of the pub down the road. The members like to participate during the demonstration, so I have to be equipped with the finest of tools like the true professional that I am. You will have to excuse me while I get on, Rubble Clubbers. Perhaps you could find an old toothbrush of your own and pretend you are here with us. Meanwhile, till next week I remain your trusty little friend and chairman, Madge Dumpling.

Welcome. Rubble Clubbers! The rock cakes are over there on the table, piping hot and crunchy as can be. Everyone’s pet rocks are perched all round the edge of the plate, tucking in already, so be quick if you want a taste. I forgot to introduce myself. I am your hostess, club chairman, pet rock expert, quarrymistress and friend, Madge Dumpling. I am here again, dutifully speaking to pet rock owners worldwide from the invisible parlour of the Stone Quarry Cottage in the Rocky Headlands of Undergrowby. When I say invisible, I mean invisible to you, not to me, because you cyber space people and your parlours are invisible to me after all. You may be invisible, but I truly believe you are there, because three of you have actually spoken to me through the magic powers of the cyber kingdom. The other Growbies are insanely jealous of my magic laptop, but even without it, before I have turned it on, I sense the Rubble Clubbers here, waiting eagerly for the meeting to begin. When my rock cakes start to disappear faster than usual, I know they are here with me. Some may say I am in a world of my own and quite deluded, but we hyper-sensitive pet rock whisperers know what’s really real and what isn’t, don’t we, Rubble Clubbers? And,( it goes without saying), so do our pet rocks.
Now, on to business. I would like to draw your attention to a phenomenon which is new, interesting and definitely not a cause for concern. The Blackpool Freckles. Since moving to the sunny, happy holidayland of Blackpool, I have noticed that amongst the pet rocks sitting on the front row along the windowsill, many have been developing a crop of brown spots all over their heads. At first I was worried, thinking it was a deadly fungal disease, but the little darlings are otherwise perfectly healthy and aglow with holidayland happiness, so I have concluded that they have sprouted freckles, and very pretty they are too. If you notice anything similar, perhaps it means you too live in Blackpool. Lucky you! My advice to you is, move the front row to the back, so the others can get a share of the sun, otherwise the freckled ones will gain advantage at the midsummer pet rock shows. They will be so much prettier than the others and there will be no end of jealousy and over-use of fake freckle lotion. For those of you wishing to gain similar advantages for your pet rocks I would recommend a weekend in sunny Blackpool. No matter what the radio weather forescasters say (I hear them telling their whopping fibs on the holidaymakers’ radios), it is almost always radiantly sunny here.
You could stay in one of those cosy seafront hotels. Before you book in, inquire if your room will have a sunny windowsill for your team of freckle-hunting pet rock sunbathers. There should be no extra charge. One of my favourite prefects recommends the wonderful President Hotel on the north promenade. You might even meet her and her pet rocks there if your stay and hers coincide. Look for her prefect’s badge and linedancer’s outfit (secret clues to her identity, known exclusively to members of the Rubble Club). I myself stumbled accidentally into a nice hotel called the New Belvedere, on the promenade at Gynn Square, round the corner from the Magic Wand Factory Shop on Dickson Road They told me I could stay in their phone box any time I like. It was a lovely cosy spot, and I suspect they have heard about my world-famous rock cakes and are hoping I will be baking up a storm for them whenever I stay. If any of you have other hotels to recommend, you only have to write to me and I will dutifully pass the word on to the membership.
Yesterday a trio of orphans, their beds and bowls left the shop to emigrate to Canada(a foreign town across a big sea) with a very nice, kind family who promised to take great care of them. If you are here at the meeting, little rockies, bon voyage! There will soon be a little corner of a house in Canada which will be forever Undergrowby.
I have to go now, Rubble Clubbers, and get some sun. I am hoping for some massive freckles, so I will be able to enter the Happy Holidaylands beauty contest and beat that wrinkled, green-faced Wanderella Windmeddler, Wandmaker of the Magic Wand Factory of the Wandmaker’s Forest of Undergrowby, who won it last year for being ‘different’.
I’ll be back next week. Till then I remain your faithful friend and chairman, Madge Dumpling.

Hello, Rubble Clubbers and welcome to this week’s gathering of devoted pet rock fanciers worldwide. I am your club chairman confidante and friend, Madge Dumpling. I hope I find you and your rocks in a better mood this week, because I am. The world always takes on a happy face when the sunshine comes pouring in through the cracks in my pile of rubble. It’s an all round pet rock battery charger and tonic which you can’t get into a bottle, sadly. Still, that’s what windowsills are for. I hope you have devised a row of pet rock sunbeds along yours ready for your little pets to sprawl out in the sun after the meeting. A tray of gravel would suffice, but something more luxurious would be better. I am offering a prize for the best sunbed idea. You will find out what the prize will be when you win it, but rest assured, it will be up to my usual standard of excellence, and your pet rocks wil love it.
I would first of all like to thank Linedancer, my trusty prefect, for drawing my attention to my unanswered mail from two weeks ago. That’s what I gave you the job for, Linedancer. I knew you were the perfect choice. Efficient, observant, diligent, responsible and reliable. If you were not already my prefect, I’d make you one all over again. Your cakes are wrapped up, ready. no need to rush, their eat-by-date is hundreds of years hence. Rubble does not go off.
Now I have another little correspondent to address, Doglover, and thank you for letting me know you are real. I was beginning to think Linedancer was the only real member I have out there in cyber-space, and it was all a figment of my imagination. I am hurriedly getting another prefect’s badge wrapped up. I sense great devotion in your turn of phrase, Doglover, and I’m sure that sandpit is the happiest pet rock paradise on earth. I have great confidence in your kind intentions. Keep up the good work and let me know all your gossip.
And so on to the business of the week which is Naughtiness. During the rainy period last week I had some hatchlings with faces only a mother (like myself) could love. I can spot them a mile off. They were born to be very naughty indeed and should not be placed amongst others of a more innocent nature. It would be cruel. If you could see their dark, grumpy faces, some apparently mid-tantrum, you would agree with me. If you were to contemplate adopting such a specimen, it would be wise to set them upon a job, preferably with a uniform or a badge, a kind of pet rock security guard or burglar deterrent. Place it by the entrance to your home and tell it what its job is. Such creatures thrive on repelling trouble-makers. They are often spookily effective, working their deterrant thoughts through the invisible layers of life. If you adopt several, keep them together in a gang. If they get bored because your house is too peaceful, they can then detract each other from naughty tricks by having competitions about who can look the hardest. If you will consider adopting one of these naughty pet rocks, I will provide you with a free rock cake which will feed him or her for a lifetime. Just scratch some bits from the cake into its bowl and watch its eyes light up. Well, I don’t expect you to adopt them, give them a job AND feed them!
If you could hang a sign up on the wall behind them saying ‘Naughty Corner’ or ‘Security’ or something of the kind, it would give them a sense of identity to compensate them for the grumpy life they are destined to lead.
Right, we are leaving early today, Rubble Clubbers, to enjoy the sun. I have packed up some rock cakes for you to take back to your windowsills, so your little darlings can have a takeaway lunch for a change. Off you go then. If you are in Blackpool, you might see me out and about strolling along the promenade with a basket of pet rocks, nibbling on a rock cake. If you miss me, (I am easy to miss, being only six inches tall) call in at the Magic Wand Factory Shop on Dickson Road and ask Granny or Grandpa Gray, my shop assistants, for one of my left-overs for your pet rock’s picnic. The password to this treat is ‘Madge Dumpling’s Leftover’. As obviously devoted Rubble Club attenders, you will not be charged.
I will see you all next week then, and meanwhile I remain as ever, your infinitely knowledgeable chairman and nice little friend, Madge Dumpling.