14/12/2007 by Madge.
Hello there, Rubble Clubbers,
This is Madge Dumpling calling from the stone Quarry, Undergrowby, Blackpool. It’s Friday, according to my alarm clock. I have set it to go off once a week during the winter. We Growbies (theUndergrowby gnomes ) like to sleep during the winter, but, like the hero that I am, for the sake of pet rocks everywhere, I stay awake all day on Fridays. It’s Rubble Club day, you see, and a few of our more dedicated members just can’t sleep for worrying about their pet rocks missing out on their weekly party. It would be a disgrace if I, the Club Chairman, were asleep when they arrived. So here I am awake, fire lit, cakes in the oven, kettle on, and newly-hatched rockies lined up around the hearth. I wonder how many Rubble Clubbers will turn up today?
It’s been a frosty old day here, perfect weather for rock-picking. You see, Rubble Clubbers, on a day like this, pet rocks will cluster themselves nearer to the house for warmth, unlike ordinary rocks. That’s one of the ways of telling them apart. It’s always the ones piled up in the doorway on a frosty morning that are likely to be the budding pet rocks. Today, my rock basket was full before I took two steps out of the door.
My orphanage of little rockies is getting a bit overcrowded, so it’s time you club members took a few off my hands. Christmas is always tinged with sadness for an orphan! Warm-hearted new homes are what we need.
Now I turn to another, slightly puzzling subject. Since Undergrowby moved to Blackpool, I’ve been hearing about a strange human delicacy, sweet and pungent in taste, which the humans call Blackpool Rocks. I am half-expecting this edible rock species to turn up in the quarry, but so far, all I have noticed is a fine layer of sand and an occasional sea shell. Perhaps they are only bred in captivity for food, poor things!
How many things can we think of to do with sand, then? That’s my question for today, Rubble Clubbers. It’s a new medium for me, and as the west wind has delivered a great big bucketful of it , I am guessing it must be useful for something, but for the life of me, I can’t think what. Whoever comes up with the best idea will win this week’s star prize, a brand new pet rock in its own bed (of sand).
Rubble Clubbers, I am beginning to wonder if I am talking to myself here in cyber space. Nobody has replied to me yet, and it’s a whole week since I wrote my first report. Still, how else am I ever going to get you and your rocks all together chatting with each other in a clubby little way if I don’t persevere, so I’ll give it, oooh, five years, so you’ve got plenty of time to pop up in my postbox. Meanwhile, I’m imagining you all here with us, drinking sweet gravel tea and rocking around the rock cake trolley at the Rubble Club H.Q.,(my kitchen), about to tap into my vast store of knowledge about pet rock handling.
Someone is at the door. I bet it’s Duncan the Dunce from the Seven Schools. His rucksack is so full of pet rocks, it’s a wonder he can lift it. Still, he’ll be having another rocky today. He can’t resist. I’m off to welcome him to the meeting.
So, till we meet one day, invisible Rubble Clubbers, I wish you a happy Friday, and to pet rocks everywhere I send my hugs and kisses. Keep rocking,
Your rock solid faithful friend,
Madge Dumpling.
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