Hello and welcome to all you lovely pet rock fanciers and your little rubbly friends. Your numbers are growing all the time, which is lucky for all those pet rock orphans waiting to be housed. Another one went out yesterday to a delightful lady from Preston, who, according to Granny Gray, has all the fun-loving qualities I could wish for in a pet rock owner. She used to be a magic wand collector, but now she has her first pet rock, we all know what will happen now, don't we, Rubblers? There has to be a limit to how many magic wands anyone could use, but just think of all that windowsill space in every house in Preston. How many pet rocks do you think we could fit along them? Correct! Hundreds, (as I am sure all you other pet rock owners with windowsills have already discovered). I like to think Wanderella Windmeddler's magic wand trading loss will soon be my gain.
I would like to congratulate my head prefect, Linedancer, for remaining busy and vigilant yet again, keeping an eye on Grandad Gray's activities. It's good to know you are wandering around out there in cyberspace, Linedancer, keeping things in order and wearing your prefect's badge with pride. I am making you a new improved badge for all your efforts. A round of applause for Linedancer, Rubblers!
Now, speaking of wandering around, I have been doing a bit of wandering around myself this week. I noticed great crowds of humans thronging around, all heading towards the centre of town, just behind Blackpool Tower, so I followed along, wondering what was going on. They all disappeared into the entrance of a tunnel, rather like one of the Undergrowby tunnels, only much bigger. Inside the tunnel were lots of new shops, gigantic shops with magic staircases and loud music played by an invisible band. It was all very exciting. I was hoping to find a nice new gravel tea room or a rock specimen shop but I was disappointed. It was , as I overheard, a new shopping centre in a tunnel, nothing more exciting than that. It's nice, however, to see you humans are taking to tunnelling and underground living, but perhaps it could have been a little further underground next time. It was, after all only about two inches deep. You aren't going to unearth many nice specimens at that depth, are you?
On my way back to the Rocky Headlands I passed by a beautiful palace where the King of Blackpool no doubt lives. He called it the Winter Gardens. The gardens must, I decided, be to the rear, because there was no sign of vegetation out front. As the doors were wide open, I popped in to see whether there were any nice rock specimens planted there. I noticed that, amongst a few indoor plants(a bit of an excuse for a garden if you ask me) the king was having a garden party inside his palace, in a grand room called The Olympia,(why?) with all kinds of interesting stalls and a buffet counter. The whole world was invited, or so it appeared. Apparently he has these garden parties every Wednesday and Saturday and he calls them Fleamarkets. Amongst the flea stalls there were so many other things I couldn't even find the fleas. It gave me an idea.
Granny Gray, my shopkeeper, has a bit of time on her hands, it seems to me. I am going to insist that she takes a few bits and bobs of pet rockery along to the Winter Gardens to join the king's stallholders at the Fleamarket. The king himself might become a member of the Rubble Club, when he falls in love with his first pet rock, as he surely must. Just think how pampered his pet rocks will be! The more I think about it, the more determined I become that it must come to pass. So, Rubble Clubbers, watch out for Granny Gray this Saturday and Wednesday at the Winter Gardens. I might even be there myself, supervising her. If you can't make it, never mind, I'll let you know what happens. Since there is a nice buffet kitchen/dining room there, and tables and chairs, where we can all have tea and buns, according to the ancient Rubble Club tradition. It won't be to my own excellent standard, but we can always pretend, can't we?
Perhaps I should make you all some badges so you can spot each other carrying your bags full of new pet rocks, sitting at the tables imagining you are in my parlour in the Stone Quarry of Undergrowby. If you ask Granny Gray she will tell you which table the Rubble Club members will be sitting at.
I have to go and choose which rocks will be going to the palace. Be quick and eat up your rock buns and drink up your teas, Rubble Clubbers. We'll be closing early this week. Until I return with a full news update next Friday, I shall remain your constant friend and busy little chairman, Madge Dumpling.
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