Meeting of the Rubble Club 18th July 2008

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.