Rubble Club Archives

Rubble Clubbers everywhere, come on in! I am your highly entertaining Chairman and world-famous pet rock whisperer, Madge Dumpling, and this is my cosy little rock-strewn parlour in which you find yourselves. I want you to sit down now on the couch, Rubble Clubbers,  while I tell you something which you might find upsetting. I am sorry to be the bearer of bad news but I won’t be here next week, in fact I won’t be back until the white mist has fallen and all the Growbies in Undergrowby (except myself and Clockit Quick, the Time and tide Inspector) have gone to sleep for the winter. That could be several weeks away. You may be wondering who will take my place, because as you all know, the Rubble Club is like the eternal flame that never dies, and quite essential for the well-being of pet rocks everywhere.

The truth is, I am going away on a job swap, and the reason is as follows. As you know I have been trying to get Grandad Gray, my doddery old shopkeeper and computer assistant, to put the pet rocks and their accessories for sale on the web site, but he has ignored my requests time and time again. There is always some excuse. Well, I was confiding my frustration in an bossy little friend of mine, Hazel Twigstarter, manager of the Tree Gnursery in the Spring Green. She is a long-standing member of the Rubble Club, runs the plantation like a well-oiled machine. Her pet rocks live in a miniature garden of their ownwhich is spick and span at all times. An efficient businesswoman like herself fully understands my need to get the pet rocks up for sale alongside those magic wands on the web site. Well, why not? Everybody want them!!! Hazel is a world-famous expert getting her own way and unlike myself, is very peevish when she is crossed. She has the loudest nagging voice in Undergrowby if everything is not just how she wants it. Nag, nag, nag! If she can’t get Grandad Gray to behave himself, no one can!

By a miracle, like a guardian angel, Hazel has offered to come and sit in for me here at the Stone Quarry until the White Mist falls, and take control of Grandad Gray for me. There is not much to do at the Tree Gnursery at this time of the year except gather in the fruit and nuts, but you know me, Rubble Clubbers, I will keep myself busy. While Hazel is here bossing everyone around for me, I will not be idle. I will be trying my hand at bossing the plantation workers around and taking tea at the Soup Kitchen instead of making it myself. I will take the pet rocks with me for a little holiday and Hazel will be bringing hers along with her to meet and greet you at the Rubble Club meetings. I bet you can’t wait for my return to hear how I went on, but you will have to wait. Meanwhile, I send you all my strongest wishes for happy, healthy pet rocking. I have trained you all well and not much can go irreversibly wrong in my absence. If you have any emergency messages, or gossip, (especially gossip) write in to the Rubble Club and Hazel will pop across to the Spring Green for a consultation with me. Goodness knows what Hazel will be laying on the table for the buffet. She is not known for her baking, unlike myself. I expect she will be popping down to the Soup Kitchen for a takeaway.

Linda and Bob from Kilmarnoch, don’t worry, I’ll be back before you’ve recovered from the jet lag.

And welcome back to Louis and George, some of my more creative Rubble Club members. Granny Gray tells me you were in the shop this week after a long absence. You are amongst her favourites as you know, and she has missed you.

Linedancer, my Head Prefect, where are you? If you are alive, please make a sign, and Hazel will let me know.

Until I return, I wish you all well, and remain your only permanently official Chairman and hopeful, wistful friend, Madge Dumpling.

Hello, this is Madge Dumpling, Chairman of the Rubble Club welcoming the membership to another rocktastic get-together here in my parlour in the Stone Quarry of Undergrowby. I have had a very busy week, catering for birthday parties,  and firework parties on the Promenade. Every week here in Blackpool, international firework experts wander along the North Pier and let off their lovely firework displays especially for me and the pet rocks and Rubble Clubbers everywhere( and anyone else who happens to be walking past at the time of course). They must have heard how much we like them, and like the dutiful Rubble Club Members that they so obviously are, they have organised a world-wide firework competition for our delight.  On behalf of the membership, my thanks therefore go , this week , to China for a most extraordinarily beautiful display which so took my breath away with ecstasy that I have been unable to do anything with myself since, except sighing. I and the pet rocks are still in a dreamy daze. Linda from Kilmarnoch, my deputy head prefect, what are you doing roaming around America when the firework competitions are on here in sunny Blackpool?

That is why I have not even got the rock cake buffet ready for you. Luckily there is a wide selection of take-away shops here on Dickson Road, so just nip out and get yourselves something, will you dears, and get me something too. Something Chinese would be appropriate, given my condition.  In fact, please talk amongst yourselves today instead of waiting for my weekly words of wisdom. I am not up to it.  It is not often I am quiet, so please forgive me, I hope I am back on form next week. Until then I remain your temporarily distracted chairman and sighing little friend, Madge Dumpling.

Here we are again at Rubble Club H.Q., outside for a change, in the back yard of the Stone Quarry Cottage in the land of  Undergrowby,  and I am your Chairman, Madge Dumpling, world-famous pet rock expert, greeting the membership. We are gathering outside in the Blackpool sunshine this week because it is too hot to stay awake in my parlour. I lit the fire last week, because I thought winter was on its way, and foolishly, I promised the fire that it would remain lit till the spring, and when I make a promise, as any pet rock will tell you, I keep my word. My word is my bond, set in stone like the Rocky Headlands themselves. Still, when the fire is lit the oven is always nice and hot. And that means it’s always ready for the baking of the hundreds of exotic varieties of rock cakes for which I am world famous. Lucky you! Help yourselves to a little tase of Dumpling magic! I have dotted this morning’s fresh batch around (to cool) artistically on the freshly-swept piles of bricks which I like to keep scattered all over the back yard. Tuck in! Mind you don’t trip up!

On to the mailbag. Thank you once again, Linda from Kilmarnoch, my Deputy Head Prefect, for dutifully keeping in touch as you are( permanently, it seems) gadding about around the world. I shall be peeping out from my magic laptop and saying hello to you and your little rockies and introducing myself to the American people. I have seen America on Granny Gray’s telly. There are lots of full-time linedancers there riding donkeys and even when they are not dancing they can’t seem to bear to take their cowboy hats off. It’s a bit like Blackpool in that respect. From what I can see it seems to be, like Blackpool, a nice, friendly land, but despite all those Rocky Mountains, it seems to be an entirely pet rock-less land. If only I could squeeze myself right out of my laptop carrying a big basketful of orphans to befriend the poor souls who have to live there, America would be a happier place. I am leaving it to you then, Linda. Do what you can.

Last week, during the strange wet, windy cold snap, (so unlike the ordinarily tropical climate we have come to expect from Blackpool) I dressed the pet rocks up in their winter wardrobes and told you to do the same, Rubble Clubbers, thinking winter had come early, but since we are back to glorious sunshine again, I will not feel too betrayed if you take their woolly hats and glove-finger jumpers off and revert back to sun hats, and take the fluff out of their beds for another week or two. Since my fire has been lit and my house is going to  be like an oven for the foreseeable future, my pet rocks(when not attending a Rubble Club Meeting) have been temporarily undressed and evacuated en masse into their new state-of-the-art paddling pool complex on the windowsill. I have built it for them out of old margarine and mushroom cartons, which I always keep in my useful box in case of an emergency.  If you decide to do the same, by way of a precaution against chills, I would advise reverting to their winter woollies just before they set off out on a trip around the Illuminations every night.

The international fireworks competition, held every weekend on the Promenade were on Friday this week, (the Irish entry was delightful, for those of you who did not see it) so sadly, as today is Sunday, there will be no Rubble Club firework ramble tonight, Rubblers. I don’t know what happened to you all on the Rubble Club Ramble last week. One minute I was leading the way through the holidaymakers and pigeons along the Promenade, my pet rocks cheering silently to be having such fun, then when I looked around, you and your little pets had all vanished. I dawdled around, rooting in the bins for a few bits for my ‘useful box’, thinking you would catch me up. (You are not expert Promenaders like myself, after all,  and might have been distracted by the flashing lights.)   If we ever have another ramble, Rubble Clubbers, please pay a bit more attention. I know I am only little, but really! Anyone would think I was invisible!

Granny Gray, my confused old pet rock shopkeeper at the Magic Wand Factory Shop on Dickson Road, Blackpool, has been tearful and sentimental this week. I think she was thinking summer was over too, and missing it almost as much as me (and you don’t see me going to pieces!). Then, to make it worse, some old friends called in the shop to see her for old times’ sake, and they were looking at photos, like doddery old folks such as herself  like to do, and have a good old sentimental weep about the good old days. I had to pinch her hard from under the counter to bring her out of her dark, droopy despair when they had gone. Thank heavens for the return of the sun and along with the sun, a new holiday-making influx of lovely pet rock customers to keep her mind off her selfish ways.   Next time you call in to buy your latest pet rock paraphernalia, Rubble Clubbers, keep an eye on her and if she is too droopy to serve you nicely, report back to me and I will give her a stern talking-to. And a good nipping.

Now that the  new school term has started for you younger pet rock collectors, I am giving some thought to the new skills your pet rocks must be learning while curled up in your cosy pockets, listening in to what your teachers are saying. Some of these skills will be useless to a pet rock, sadly, but of enormous use to you. If you pretend you are a teacher and read out your class work to your pet rock when you get home he(or she) will never forget it, unlike yourself. Remembering is what pet rocks do best. When exam time comes, a pet rock on your desk can be more than just a lucky little friend. Pet rocks are not allowed in the exam room in Undergrowby because the teachers at the Seven Schools know what they are like. If you hold your pet rock against your forehead you can train yourself to listen as your  pet rock talks to you (in its silent little way) and it will tell you all it knows on any subject. Once you have perfected this pet rock whisperer’s art, (and if I can, you can) a pet rock is as good as an encyclopaedia.

The meeting is now over. Help yourselves to as many rock cakes as you like to take home. Fill your pockets. I am going indoors now to stoke the fire and fill up the paddling pool, so until next week, I remain your faithful friend and efficient little Chairman, Madge Dumpling.

Come on in, Rubble Clubbers, be quick and close the door or that devilish west wind will be whipping the pet rocks’ sand pit into a sandstorm all over the lovely buffet I have prepared for you. I know I often recommend a little sprinkling of sand on top of the rock cakes for a crunchy treat, but not an entire shovelful!  Oooh, what a sudden change in the weather! It’s high time I put an end to the wind’s mischief and put that sand pit away for the winter. There will be sulking amongst the pet rocks, and I know it’s hard for them when you take their toys away, but like all of us, pet rocks have to accept the little changes that come with the seasons. Sand pits, sunhats and paddling pools have to disappear and hot water bottles, fluff, blankets and knitwear have to come out.  And thanks to my nagging letters to the Town Hall requesting immediate pet rock amusements to be made available now the wind is getting up, the Blackpool Illuminations have been switched on! Many thanks to the Town Hall Rubble Clubbers. You may switch them off in a few weeks to let the pet rocks settle down for their long winter sleep.

On to the mailbag. Linda from Kilmarnoch, the Rubble Club’s Deputy Head Prefect, Chief Knitter and expert coach tripper is taking her pet rocks in an aeroplane and flying them to foreign parts to visit her relatives. I am sure those nice relatives of yours with that magical Scottish blood in them, will make lovely adoptive parents for some lucky little rockies, Linda, so if you get overwhelmed with generosity, it will be quite all right with me if you leave them behind with your poor, pet rockless  foreign family. You can always get yourself some more, can’t you? Thank you, by-the-way, Linda, for your endless devotion to your rocky little pals. No matter how many coach trips you have to go on, or how many relatives you have to visit, or cater-for, you never fail to turn up at the Rubble Club all aglow with enthusiasm. You are a shining example to the membership!

Whether we like it or not, the summer has now come to an end and in Undergrowby we are in the change of the seasons, a period classified as an earth element phase, because all life forms go down to earth at the change of the seasons to pause and prepare themselves for the next phase. It is a time when the earth element can get bogged down, which is always a disturbing thought for earth element creatures like ourselves and our pet rocks. The earth element governs the stomach and digestive organs, also the muscles and flesh, so pet rocks(and ourselves) can feel very hungry for the sweet taste or go off their food, find their muscles stiff or their flesh lumpier than usual,  when they are at the change of the seasons. Worry and over-thinking are the common diseases of the mind at this time. If you or your pet rocks are suffering from any of these earth element disorders, relax, it is quite normal and to be expected. Light the fire. Light the lamp. Go for a nice power walk or do a bit of advanced linedancing while you worry. It will take your mind off it a bit.

But Rubblers, it will all soon be over anyway when the autumn takes over next week. Then you can expect sniffles, skin disorders, diarrhoea, constipation and an overwhelming  sense of grief and loss, and can start doing mindful slow breathing exercises for relief and smoother letting-go.  TOP TIP>>Store any excess sand you may sweep up between now and then because you may need to change your pet rock toilets more often in the autumn. Pet rocks are experts at letting go, and if you concentrate hard and pay special attention to their toileting behaviour, you can learn a lot from them. We are all on this earth to enjoy or suffer these seasonal changes together and learn from each other how to steer ourselves smoothly and comfortably through life’s magical, twisty little pathways. After all, if we get stuck somewhere along the way, who will look after our pet rocks?

Linedancer, my Head Prefect, by the way, are you stuck, thinking no one cares if you are dead or alive,(I do) or are you busy working out the pet rock linedancing choreography for next year’s world championships and fighting your way along the promenade trying to get to work and back through the illuminations traffic?  If it is the latter, do not let me hinder your progress. If you are stuck and ill, just let me know and in between filling hot water bottles, and doing my pet rock whispering, I will rush to your aid.

Huddle your pet rocks together for a group hug on top of the hot water bottles now, Rubble Clubbers, and tuck into my latest creation, rock cake sandwiches (rock cakes with sand on the top and bottom).The fire is lit and it will not go out again till the spring, so tea will be served steaming hot from now on. Todays tea has a few spicy ingredients, mainly melted cough drops and aniseed balls that I collected from the ashtrays in the family room of the Gynn Hotel down the road. Waste not, want not! I call it my Wind Relieving Tea. Tea Boy Bob is still on holiday, so this tea, for old time’s sake,  is entirely one of my own authentic Dumpling Magic Teas but my husband Malcolm is back on washing-up duty, so use as many cups as you like. Keep moving your pet rocks around on the hot water bottles, now,  Rubblers, don’t let them get stuck.

It may be cold and windy outside, but in here, our hearts are all aglow with pet rock love and Rubble Club friendship, and as long as we keep the door shut, we can get ourselves charged-up enough for another week. Let’s form a circle around the hot water bottles and have a nice group hug around the pet rocks’ group hug.  In case we get stuck, let’s shuffle around in a circle. That’s enough. I am taking it easy this week, so you can all stay as long as you like. Soon it will be nightfall and the illuminations will be on again. I have been out and about snatching spare gloves off spare dangling fingers and cutting them up to make hundreds of pet rock winter hats and coats, as I outlined last week. No wonder I am taking it easy. I deserve it. I am a martyr. Help yourself to glove-finger outfits if you have forgotten to make your own.

We’ll all go for a Rubble Club walk later, if you like, when the pet rocks are dressed warmly, approved by me and ready to go. Put the hot water bottles in your bags  before the pet rocks go in, that’s it. You will need a spare bag each to contain all those useful objects that we might find scattered along the Promenade. Now don’t think you are going to walk fast, Rubblers, remember my legs are not as long as yours. I will lead the way, and dictate the pace. Keep in line, prefects first, badges in. There’s only one way to go on a Rubble Club hike with me, and that’s MY way.

Unless we get lost, blown away by the wind or decide to go on a coach or boat trip far away, I shall have the parlour ready next week for another Rubble Club Meeting. Until then,  I will remain your reliable leader and true friend, your Chairman, Madge Dumpling.