Meeting of the Rubble Club 8th August 2008

Come on in, Rubble Clubbers, you are in the safe hands of Madge Dumpling, your friendly little chairman and pet rock expert. Don't be nervous, it will spoil the party. Help yorself to a rock cake and set up your little rockies next to mine so they can mingle and exchange necessary information. They will not be reporting back to me later with all your scandal, don't worry. Unlike Granny Gray, my shopkeeper, they do not gossip, not even with me, their creator. World champion pet rock whisperer though I may be, they will only tell me about themselves, and nothing about anyone not present. They are the soul of discretion, much like myself. You can, and must, tell them all your secrets. Rest assured, it will go no further.
Granny Gray tells me that my trusty magical prefect, Linedancer, obediently wearing her prefect's badge, brought a friend into the shop several days ago, and, ever the attractor of rock formations as she is, it seems she has attracted another, because according to Granny Gray, his name was Cliff, and like the cliff after which he was aptly named, he adopted a tall new pet rock to add to Linedancer's array of rock formations. I expect she will be calling it Cliff after its kind rock-bearing benefactor.
This week's business has been shelved because I have been too busy collecting dry sticks ready for my winter bonfires. Pet rocks love a bonfire, and summer-gathered sticks are their favourite fuel. They are full of the cheerful fire element, inside and out, and in the dead of winter they make such a happy blaze, the Rubble Club meetings would not be the same without them. In the evenings on hot, stick-collecting days I always sit at the table in my parlour and entertain the rockies by building a few tiny triangular pet rock bonfire stacks. They love a craft demonstration, don't they, Rubble Clubbers? With a flash of my inborn fire-related Dumpling magic, I then amaze the rockies by turning the stacks into stone to make toy smoking bonfires which will never burn away. On dull, overcast and rainy days the rockies need something to take their minds off the weather. That's whenI place some of my magic incense under the stone bonfires and set it alight to smoke. For all the world it is like a pet rock bonfire night, (but without the heat, which would be a terrible nuisance in the summer). If you are visiting Blackpool, Rubble Clubbers, you can obtain one of my toy bonfires at the Magic Wand Factory Shop on Dickson Road. They manifest only in summer, so when they are gone, they are gone.
If you fail to obtain one, the next best thing to cheer them up is to turn all the lights on and sing a loud, fire-related song to them. Pretend you are a bonfire and sing what comes naturally. If you are out on the road with your pet rocks in your pocket and there is a sudden scary downpour, you could switch on a tiny pocket torch for them for reassurance. It's good to get into the habit of remembering, evry time you pick up your umbrella for yourself,(just in case it rains) to pick up a torch for your pet rocks,(just in case it rains). Well, it's your responsibility after all. They give their all to you and so it's not much to ask.
I have made some miniature pet rock cakes (as tiny as a baby's fingernail) this week for you to take home as a special treat. They are exclusive to Rubble Club members and can not be bought, so if you forget to take one home you can ask Granny Gray for one round at the shop. The magic words you have to say are "Tell Madge I forgot my little cake". Then Granny Gray will know you have come from cyber space. She is dying to see a cyber spaceperson (and so am I!), so please make her day and say the magic words. I will be listening under the counter and following you out of the shop through my secret underground tunnel network, plotting my way back to your home. I don't mean to pry, I just want to see what cyber space looks like.
The door has just swung open and that green-faced Wanderella Windmeddler from the Wandmaker's Forest has just flounced in with her basket of pet rocks and dry sticks from the forest. She is always on the look-out for a new apprentice wandmaker, because nobody is ever quite competent enough for her. In the evenings when the shop is closed, she has been trying to train up Granny Gray for the job, but Granny Gray is too busy gossiping to concentrate on the wand-making, so here she is again, seeing who else is here at the Rubble Club. Linedancer, watch out! I have to go and cover up the rock cakes before she starts fiddling with them. I wouldn't care if she ate them but she just messes them all up and makes insulting comments about them. I'll leave you then, Rubblers, to mingle with the membership, and until next Friday I remain your devoted chairman and friend, Madge Dumpling.