15/02/2008 by Madge
Hello, Rubble Clubbers, this is Madge Dumpling, your chairman, speaking to you invisibly in cyber-space. Where are you all? I’m here on my own again, table laid, teapot steaming and rock buns smoking away in the oven. Oh, there you are, come in my dears and spread your rockies out on my shelves with the others. Go on , rockies, play amongst yourselves!
Well, Valentine’s Day was a bit of a flop this year yet again. I got no Valentines at all, how about you? That husband of mine slept straight through it again. Still, he probably got me one in his dreams. Devoid of a love life of my own, I decided to try to stir up a little romance between my little rockies, rearranging them, warming them up, squeezing them together tight, sprinkling them with love potions, etc. .(I hope you did too.) I am sad to say there was no sign of any blushing or lumps forming, but I’m not disheartened. Those rockies are always full of love and devotion for us but they don’t often get romantic with each other. They are too busy nosy-parkering into our affairs, swapping information between themselves and filing it all away in their memory banks to have time for their own baser instincts. Luckily, I say! Still, Valentine’s Day brings out the matchmaker in us all, doesn’t it?
Their mating season is very short and erratic, and only comes once in a blue moon. It’s hard to see it coming, then one day there be a bit of blushing. The next day a lump will form and before the day is over, out pops a baby pet rock. I don’t encourage it normally because they are terrible parents, abandoning their own and stealing everyone else’s. It’s no wonder they are a threatened species out in the wild without us Rubble Clubbers to cater for the casualties. Its a free-for-all breeding ground out there at the foot of the Rocky Headlands, hence all those orphaned pet rocks I keep finding everywhere, lost in the rubble, needing adoption.
Nobody has entered the sandcastle competition yet, in case you were wondering. Now Valentine’s Day is over, you might be able to concentrate a bit more on the things that matter and get entering. It’s funny, you know, but you Rubble Clubbers are not a very competitive lot , are you? Not one entry to any of my easy-peasy competitions have I had to date. I find it endearing actually, that you don’t want to upset each other by walking off with my fabulous prizes. I like you for it, Rubblers. It will take more than that to dishearten me, don’t worry. I won’t take it personally.
Come on, eat some more smoked rock-cakes. I can never bake enough when the weather is cold like this. They give you a kind of glow in the tummy, don’t they? Wash them down with some of this hot pepper tea. There you go. No, rockies, you’ve had enough for one day, now just concentrate on playing telepathic I Spy with each other nicely while we Rubblers swap ideas.
I can’t begin to tell you how much I am looking forward to springtime when all the Growbies wake up and life gets going again. It’s lonely being a gnome awake on your own in the winter. I’m one of the lucky ones. I have you to visit me in your own funny invisible little way.
When they wake up, you will meet all the other members. That will be a treat for you. Don’t ask me when it will be. It depends when the thorn bushes come into bloom. It varies. The blackbirds will let us know. Meanwhile, winter goes on and they all sleep, and miss all the fun, don’t they?
I’ll see you next week, Rubblers. Thanks for coming. Your friend and chairman, Madge Dumpling.
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