Rubble Club Archives

Hello, this is Madge Dumpling, world-famous pet rock whisperer and Chairman of the Rubble Club, welcoming all pet rock owners and your rocky little pals to another jolly get-together here at the Stone Quarry, in the hidden, invisible land of Undergrowby. That smoky, crunchy smell in the air is due to a massive baking attack which came upon me last Monday. Our kind, helpful Scottish Rubble Club prefect, Linda from Kilmarnoch made a special journey on the coach to Blackpool to bring me a year’s supply of Scottish oats and oatcakes. I wept with joy when I saw it, Linda, and I am sincerely touched by your dedication. Give my love to the coach-driver and tell him I will not be seeing him for some time now and please explain why. He will miss me, I know, but for a while I shall be too busy baking to be travelling around minding the luggage in his luggage compartment.
I am thrilled, Linda, at the thought that you and step-Bob might be thinking of moving to Blackpool. Just say the word and I will get my friends, the pigeons on the Promenade, to look for a nice property for you. I know you will have realised that it will need to be one with a nice big cellar and a gnome flap on the back door, but apart from that, you could be considering anything. A nice big hotel, perhaps? With a cocktail bar and cocktail umbrellas? My world-famous and hightly efficient head prefect, Linedancer, will probably be able to be talked into becoming your receptionist, as long as you pay very well and allow her to display her pet rockery along her desk.
Anyway, back to business…the buffet. Help yourselves, Rubblers, to my latest grit-chip oaty experiments over there on the table. I am so well-stocked with ingredients now that I am even thinking about opening a rock cake shop on a new shelf somewhere in the Magic Wand Factory Shop on Dickson Road, Blackpool. I told you last week about Auntie Hatty’s proposals for a hat shop department, didn’t I? Well, as a result of that, all this week my parlour has been full of hats and hat-making supplies. The pet rocks have loved watching Auntie Hatty’s hat designs take shape under my nimble fingertips. To ‘cap’ it all, they have now all been fitted with a new hat each and although some are plain and some are very fancy, as yet there has been no jealousy.
(They are such easy-going little creatures, aren’t they, Rubblers? )
The new hat department is going to be a fabulous triumph and give pet rocks everywhere so much pleasure, but you know me, Rubble Clubbers, I am not one to boast about my successes and be content to rest on my laurels. No sooner have I completed one project than I am already on with another. Now I have launched into ambitious rocky oatcake experiments and I have been so busy and cluttered, I have had no room to think straight. I would like you to eat as many oatcakes as you can from the buffet, Rubble Clubbers, to make room for my next week’s experiments. The pet rocks, with the best will in the world, eat so slowly that they are not able to assist with stock clearance anything like as efficiently as you.
Auntie Hatty’s hat shop is going on the shelves in the shop tomorrow, and I have had it photographed for you by way of a special preview, exclusive to dedicated Rubble Clubbers. Granny Gray has finally been convinced(she takes bribes of an oaty nature) that she should move those unnecessary pottery houses to make room for it. You see, Rubblers, the Rubble Club’s shelf space in the shop is growing slowly but surely. My cunning plan is working.
For my next next trick, Rubblers, I just have to decide where our new rock cake shop is going to be fitted-in. It should be easy to get something else cleared out to make way for it. A hundred or so of those pesky magic wands, perhaps? With all these oats in my larder, I think I now have Granny Gray, the Magic Wand Factory’s doddery old shopkeeper, literally eating out of my hand.
The aforementioned pigeons, those gossipy friends of mine who waddle around on the Blackpool Promenade, listening in to conversations, (much like myself), are thrilled to bits this week because all the pigeon fanciers and pigeons from all over the world are visiting Blackpool, holding parties and competitions for their little feathered pets. The Promenade pigeons are banned from the official events, but they are still thrilled because instead of snacking on cold fish and chips dropped by the visitors, they are being fed handfuls of best quality pigeon food by this week’s visitors, who always have a bag of dried peas and grains in their pockets in case they should bump into a pigeon. They love pigeons as much as we love pet rocks.
This world-famous pigeon week comes round every year at this time. It is like a pigeon’s idea of Christmas. I am helping them out by sweeping up a few bagsful of the excess pigeon food and bringing it back home with me to add to my gourmet recipes. Well, the pigeons will be getting indigestion, gobbling down too much rich food all at once, and we don’t want that do we? I might return some of it to them later in the year if I need something to bribe them with for snippets of local information.
Anyway, never mind the pigeons, if I have my way, some day in the future there will be an annual Pet Rock Week in Blackpool, and Rubble Clubbers world-wide will come and bring their little pets for a fabulous pet rock festival together in the Winter Gardens. The wonderful Blackpool hotels (especially yours, Linda) will be full of Rubble Clubbers and their world-class competition-winning pet rocks.
I will go away now and, between oatcake experiments, think about how I am going to fix that. Till next week then, I remain your faithful chairman and fond friend, Madge Dumpling.

Hello and welcome, all you devoted Rubble Clubbers and your pampered pets, to another cosy get-together with me, Madge Dumpling and our ever-growing assembly of pet rocks. The buffet is over there…a change from rock cakes today, you may be sad to hear….sandy oat-cake tea loaf, and your old favourite, steaming hot gravel tea of course. You may be wondering if I have been to Scotland again to fetch some oats, but no, I have traced a local source. Granny Gray has been baby-sitting for her grand-daughters’ hamster, and what do you think I found in its food bowl while searching for rock samples? Amongst many other delectable ingredients I found two or three oatflakes! Perfect! I helped myself and went straight to the kitchen where I concocted this week’s cakeys, from the luxury hamster mix blended skilfully with gravel tea, some scraps of wet clay to bind it all together, and before I put it in the oven I finished it with a dusting of that magical ingredient, …Blackpool sand…. from my very own shoes! I know, another triumph! Enjoy!
Right, on to business. In order for the Rubble Club to continue to thrive in these lonely, rainy, wintery times, I have decided, come what may, to expand my allotted shelf space in the magic wand shop, known to all as The Magic Wand Factory, Dickson Road, Blackpool, (although I think it should have a change of name, don’t you, Rubble Clubbers, to something more rocky?…. but first things first…..more shelf space for now, tackle the name later).
This week, while snuggled in my winter cocoon trying to go to sleep, I pondered out loud how on earth was I was going to steal some more shelf space? My little rockies, (who know everything that is going on of course, and have answers for everything, if only you can hear their silent voices), came up with an idea. One of my oldest, wisest, and prettiest rockies, is called Auntie Hatty, and true to her name, she likes her hats. As you can see from my picture, I too, like all Growbies, am never without a hat. Hat-making is an old tradition in Undergrowby, but pet rocks have to depend on their owners to make them hats because they have no fingers of their own. Auntie Hatty, who designs all her own hats, is concerned that people out there may lack the skills to make nice, decent hats for their pets and may be scouring the pet shops in vain, looking for stockists of pet rock hats.
After our conversation she agreed, as long as I promise to make her famous, that she would share with me all her spring season designs which I will make, and together we will open a hat shop on the shelf above the pet rock display, where Granny Gray has got some quite unnecessary pottery houses at the moment. It will be called Auntie Hatty’s Hat Shop, and Auntie Hatty will be put in charge of it. You will recognise her if you call in at the shop. She is the large plump pink one wearing a hat with a rose upon it(I made it for her myself, to her design, of course).
As if that were not enough excitement for one week, I have had my portrait sculpted in bas-relief by a world-famous artist and several copies made, which you an buy at the Magic Wand Factory. Aunt Hattie(who is, I fear, getting a bit above her station), insisted on having one done of herself, but I can’t think who would buy it. However, our portraits are now on sale, along with that of a random family of pet rocks sunbathing on Blackpool beach. Hurry and get one, Rubblers, and buy one of the first available pet rock hats while you are there!
I am pleased to say those lovely Rubble Clubbers, Joe and Emma(see last week’s photos) have collected their prize from Granny Gray and I am now waiting for their close friend Louis to send me his photos to share with you. Also next week, I will show you some photos of Auntie Hatty’s Hat Shop, in case you are too far away in cyber space to come to the shop.
And with that, I must leave you to get on with the hat-making. My work is never done, baking, collecting, singing, clapping, nosey-parkering, bossing, organising and opening my little invisible mailbox,……..but if I didn’t do it who would? And then where would the pet rocks be?
Till next week, I remain your devoted chairman and busy little friend, Madge Dumpling.

Hello, this is Madge Dumpling, world-famous pet rock whisperer and chairman of the Rubble Club of Undergrowby, welcoming all you cold, wet pet rock owners and your little pets to another fabulous winter get-together. Please leave your wet coats and umbrellas in the doorway..we don’t want the little rockies to be reminded of the rain…you know how they hate it!
Here we are then, all huddled around the candles burning in the hearth, having a lovely cosy time. While we wait for the candles to warm up the gravel tea, I have some heart-warming pictures for you to look at, sent to me through cyber-space by the Magical Personal Assistant of two of my favourite members, Joe and Emma.
Joe and Emma have made a FIVE STAR perfect pet rock paradise of their home. In my expert opinion, it is one of those places pet rocks may become so happy that they may even begin to breed. I have visited Joe and Emma’s house, squeezing in through that convenient gap in the edge of the floorboards from time to time to do my routine follow-up inspections, as I do for all my little rockies, and I am always pleased with what I find. It just gets better and better! I am going to make them a special prize, which will be ready in about a week, as a reward for their truly brilliant pet rock-catering service. Joe and Emma, my clever darlings, please ask Granny Gray if it is ready next time you come to the Magic Wand Factory Shop on Dickson Road, Blackpool.
Rubble Clubbers, you can copy their beautiful floor plans or create one of your own, and in either case, perhaps you could get your own Magical Personal Assistant to send me some photos to share with the membership? Joe, Emma and their close friend Louis(who has a pet rock world of his own) are planning a mini-Blackpool beach sand-play area for their paradises, so there may be some more photos when the constructions are complete.
And there is more in the post-bag. Linda from Kilmarnoch, I too am counting the hours to your return to Blackpool, and I agree that your little pets will be ecstatically happy to stay in Scotland while you are on holiday. They have already done Blackpool. As long as they have been reassured that you will be returning in a few days, they will happily guard the house for you and memorise everything that is happening while you are away. They are better than any security camera, once you get the hang of decoding their little messages.
Linedancer, thank you kindly for asking after my health. I am now perfectly fit and raring to get the new year underway. It is going to be a year of divine blessings and abundance for all of us here in the Rubble Club. I consulted the Undergrowby Map of Mysteries on the matter and that is what I as told. I was directed all around the pathways of the Spring Green with its plantations, and the Wandmakers’ Forest with its magically rich pickings. They are both gnomesteads where all the fast, upward growth happens, so the good fortunes of the Rubble Club membership are definitely set to flourish before the year is out. In my case, I am praying it means the tide is going to wash in lots of lovely rock specimens for me to turn into pet rocks for you. If it doesn’t, the little darlings would soon become extinct. (But the map says they won’t, so don’t worry!)
If you want a Map of Mysteries Oracle Pack of your own together with its chart of meanings and instructions for how to use it, you will have to come to the Magic Wand Factory Shop on Dickson Road, or for £11.50 including posting fee, ask Granny Gray to post you one. (01253 353800). You can ask the map about anything you like, no matter how frivolous or serious, it will give you its age-old wise directions on anything you are having trouble with. It is printed on material so you can do a bit of embroidery or beading here and there if you like, to put your own pretty, personal touches in.
Any pet rock can be trained to guide the map reader to his or her destination. Some are more alert than others but they never run off in the wrong direction like, say, a spider would do if given the same job. In fact a fully obedience-trained baby pet rock guide comes free with every Oracle Pack. As you will see, they are just the right size for travelling along the pathways and standing still in between moves to remind you where you are up to. Only you Rubble Clubbers know this pack is available by post. Even visitors to the shop have to be very observant and inquisitive to spot it because Granny Gray is not very good at showcasing things well enough to be seen by all. The cloth map is available on the web-site shop (£5.95) but no mention is made of the chart of meanings, instruction booklet and pet rock guide. WHY, I ask myself?
I would make a much better shop assistant than Granny Gray myself if only I were much bigger and less invisible, but I am too busy with my own work anyway. The sales figures in the shop are destined to be permanently at the mercy of the well-meaning but truly incompetant Granny and Grandad Gray. Heaven help us all!
I hope you like the pictures, Rubble Clubbers. If anyone else has some to share, we’d love to see them, wouldn’t we? I may see who I can find to be my own personal photographer to take some photos of me on my travels around Blackpool. If any of you are six inches tall or under, with your own camera, the job is yours. I am waiting to hear from you. Meanwhile, until next week, I remain your faithful chairman and devoted friend, Madge Dumpling.

Hello Rubble Clubbers, this is Madge Dumpling speaking to you from Rubble Club H.Q., my delightfully rubble-strewn parlour here in the Stone Quarry of Undergrowby, which is in a secret spot somewhere deep underground in cyberspace to the rear of the Magic Wand Factory Shop on Dickson Road, Blackpool. Congratulations to those of you bright enough to find the entrance, and I regret that I am arriving late to the meeting once again. As I suspected, you have been too polite to ransack my cupboards for the refreshments. You must be starving. Over there in that cupboard is a stone jar marked “Do not touch! Rubble Clubber’s only!” Open the lid and get yourselves a nice crunchy rock cake each. I have just returned from a long journey and I may well fall asleep if I have one myself. They do have a way of sitting heavily on the stomach floor, don’t they, and rooting you to the ground in a sleepy, blobby, speechless way. Yes I know, when the first bite has gone down you feel as if you are turning into a pet rock. Alas, it is just a delightful illusion, an unmissable part of the Dumpling Magic. For those of you who have come here to relax and enter the world of pet rocks, you could do no better than eat as many as you can while you are here. It is the best way of achieving maximum unity with your little pets and contributing to their interesting (if silent) animated discussion group which they have here at the Rubble Club once a week. Without the help of the rock cakes we might never have been even aware of it, let alone join in.
No doubt you are wondering where I have been? Well, the answer is,… on a coach trip to Scotland for the New Year parties. It was thanks to all those permanently jolly Scottish visitors who returned once again to stay in their (and my) favourite hotels Blackpool for the Christmas festivities. The Scots are very fond of their cocktail parties, as we all know, and where there are cocktail parties there are those little umbrellas which I like to collect for the welfare of pet rocks world-wide. Well, while I was behind the bar at the New Belvedere Hotel, collecting umbrellas, I heard those lovely Scottish voices talking about all the cocktail parties they had got planned for when they get back home for New Year. From what I could gather, on New Year’s Eve the Scots all get together to pretend they are in Blackpool again. Every house has its own little cocktail party and they all stay awake all night drinking cocktails and being nice to each other. I am normally good at staying awake, as you know, and my desire for a few more sacksful of cocktail umbrellas got the better of me, and I secreted myself on board their coach when it returned home to Scotland after Christmas.
It all went to plan. The Scots are very good at pretending they are on holiday. Except for the absence of the seagulls, you would have sworn it was Blackpool. There were cocktails everywhere. I collected as many umbrellas as I could carry, listened in to lots of jolly conversations, joined in with all the sing-songs, danced along with the dancers, (although as I had forgotten my ladder I had to remain dancing alone on the floor like a wallflower when the others took to dancing on the tables). All in all I had a lovely time, but when morning came and there was no breakfast gong gonging and no squawking, seagully noise in the air, their pretending game was finally up. They had pretended they were in Blackpool admirably all night long but now it was all too clear that they were not really in Blackpool after all. Looking sad, green-faced and dejected, one-by-one, the Scots started to look droopy, took to their beds and went to sleep. I alone was alert and chirpy. But then, I am not fond of sleep, or cocktails (I am always wary of being poisoned by strange drinks…I stick to the flask of home-brewed gravel tea which I carry on my person at all times).
Where, I wondered, was the coach driver?
The coach driver, it seemed, instead of driving straight back with a fresh coach-load of Blackpool-bound tourists, had drunk one of those poisonous cocktails of which I am always wary and was too ill to drive. He was fast asleep on the dance-floor. I had to wait patiently within viewing distance of the luggage compartment for signs of the return journey getting underway. Usually the coach trips return back to Blackpool the next day with a new set of holiday-makers, but because of those New Year cocktail parties and the resulting bouts of illness, who could know when I would get home to Blackpool again? I decided to pop through the gnome-flap of a nearby Rubble Club member’s house with a window overlooking the coach park, and in between keeping an eye on the coach, I inspected his pet rock collection. I handed out a few umbrellas to the dear little rockies and asked them to request a song for me to sing for them, as it was the festive season. They were unanimous in their choice. It was the Dumpling Chant number 8, always a winter favourite because it has nine beats in a bar, (the rhythm of summer)(it warms you up….. I will sing it for you some time.)
There was plenty of food in the larder, so I helped myself from a mountain of tasty-looking Scottish oatcakes, but they were lacking in something somehow, so I sprinkled them with some Blackpol sand from inside my shoes, and instantly they became delectable. I wonder if I can locate some Scottish oats in Blackpool when I get home? Just in case I cannot, I helped myself to a few extra ones to take home with me to add to next weeks buffet, dredged with sand of course. You see, even when I am far from home I never stop thinking of my duty to you, do I, Rubblers? I am quite tireless in that regard.
To cut a long story short, only today did I return from Scotland with the umbrellas and oatcakes. You will have to wait till next week for the oatcakes because I have to add my special Dumpling touch to them before I serve them up as my own.
I have just opened my mailbox and I am pleased to announce that my lovely prefect Linda from Kilmarnoch will be coming to Blackpool again soon. HURRAY! Linda, just make sure the coach is full of nice, kind, (wealthy) adoptive Rubble Clubbers because the over-wintering pet rocks are a little overcrowded at the moment, especially the orphans. There is also some new wrought iron pet rock furniture in the shop, just made to be perched on the sunny windowsills of those elegant, roomy kind Scottish homes where hundreds of pet rocks wil be sunbathing and overlooking those rocky Scottish landscapes during this coming year (that’s if I can fix it for them). I will instruct Granny Gray, my shopkeeper to have plenty of adoption papers at the ready.
The coming year is going to be a happy, propsperous one for you all, Rubblers. I have planted my dream cocoon in the Rocky headlands on the Blackpool Promende and wished for it, so it will be so. The plant kingdom is the most reliable agent of change, and moves faster than rock magic, which, although reliable, lacks speed. Well, pet rocks can’t all be good at everything. With that I will leave you to watch the goodness unfold until next week when we will, heaven willing, meet again. I remain your good, faithful friend and dutiful chairman, Madge Dumpling.