Meeting of the Rubble Club 17th October 2008

Better late than never, here I am, out of breath and glad of a rest, Rubble Clubbers, your faithful little friend and chairman, Madge Dumpling . I have been up to my neck in endless washing since the crack of dawn, getting the little pet rockies' winter blankets scrubbed and dried in the autumn breeze before it turns too cold to do the laundry. I am only half-way through, but the Rubble Club meeting now takes priority.
When do I do my own washing, I hear you wonder, with all these pet rock blankets to get through? It's simple, I have put my husband, Malcolm Dumpling, in charge of cleaning and re-stuffing our own fresh winter cocoons and cleaning out the bed cupboards ready for the long winter sleep, in between doing all the other house-work. Well, I have enough to do, don't I? Being a world-famous expert pet rock whisperer and chairman of the Rubble Club is a full time job.
Come on in, Rubble Clubbers, you have queued up outside long enough now. I am pleased to see you have your pet rocks suitably attired for the cooler weather, wrapped up in cotton wool balls and blankets, stuffed into babies' socks, surrounded by hot water bottles, etc.. Very well done, Rubblers!
My trusty prefect, Linedancer, is still off sick(dutifully waiting for gnature to cure her) so I am single handed here at the Rubble Club, but I am taking it in my stride like the unstoppable little rock that I am. You know me by now, Rubblers, and you have never heard me complain, have you? There is never a moment's lapse in my self-denial. Even now, as my hands are red raw with all the washing, the beach is full of uncollected rock samples, my prefect is off sick, uncomplainingly I still manage to find the time to make the rock cakes for the Rubble Club's morning buffet, even though it is already afternoon and my weary arms and legs are aching. Move over, Rubblers and let me get to the rock cakes and gravel tea. I need to be revivied. That's better! Now I feel more like a vigorous little gossiping session with you all before I carry on with the washing.
Granny Gray, my shopkeeper at the Magic Wand Factory on Dickson Road, Blackpool, has had a busy week finding homes for all those magic wands and other 'magical' bits and bobs she has littering the place, getting in the way of my pet rock display. No wonder the pet rocks have not been moving fast of late, no one can see them for all that other stuff. Yesterday I was hiding under the shop counter listening to her selling something to someone and she never said "And how many pet rocks would you like with that?" like I trained her to do. I gave her a good ticking off, I can tell you, and when the next customers came in I listened to her again to check she was behaving herself. It was a delightful family from America, from Nashville, Tennessee, with two well-behaved children who never even looked at the pet rocks. They were too busy choosing their magic wands to notice the pet rocks calling out to them from the back of the shop. Just as they were leaving, Granny Gray handed them both an orphan pet rock and talked them through the adoption procedure. She made it sound like agony, and it just goes to show how kind and lovely the people of Nashville, Tenessee are, because, despite Granny Gray's feeble salesmanship, they instantly agreed to join the Rubble Club and take the orphans home with them.
Linedancer, I understand from the conversation I overheard from under the counter that Nashville Tenessee is the home of country linedancing music and has many thousands of coach trips of linedancers in their cowboy hats, such as yourself visiting its ballrooms to have a little dance. Perhaps we should organise the Seagull Coaches of Blackpool to take us there for our next Rubble Club outing. That is, of course, when you are well again, Linedancer. Please write to me, Rowan and Emma from Tennessee and give me the directions to your house, so I can tell the coach driver.
I and the all the pet rocks in the party can stay at your house. There will be plenty of room for me, I am only six inches tall and I will bring my own blanket. I and the rockies can sleep in the cat's basket along with your pet rocks who will love to have a sleepover with their old friends. Pet rocks (and myself)love to snuggle up to a nice furry cat. For the sake of security, I and the cat may need to have a snoop around your house in the night and check your cupboards for intruders. I might help myself to a little snack as I go, but rest assured I will not feed the cat any sweets.
Overnight, if your kitchen is equipped, I will make you some nice gritty breakfast rock cakes for all the pet rocks in the party in return.( I like to pay my way with my best efforts.) The other Rubble Clubbers can sleep in the coach outside and they will bring their own sandwiches. We are no trouble, are we, Rubblers?
If this trip to Nashville, Tennessee does not happen, Rubble Clubbers, do not despair. We can all rack our brains to think of an alternative.
The baby fish in the fish tank are growing bigger and bigger and it is now time for a few more of you to get a fish tank filled up ready to adopt a few of them. Winter(which is on its way) is the season of the water element, and what better water element accessory can you have than a fish tank, Rubblers? It will help to hypnotise your pet rocks to sleep the winter away and give you some peace and quiet while you wait patiently for spring to arrive. Water is the wellspring of life, and correctly placed in your home, (in the north or at the back of the room or house) will help to create great abundance. In our case, the abundance came in the form of hundreds of tiny fishes growing bigger every day, but you can hope and wish for a more useful form of abundance yourself.
Please excuse me now, Rubble Clubbers, while I leave you and go back to my washing. Talk among yourselves. I will be listening in not far away. Till next week, I remain your blanket-scrubbing little friend and devoted chairman, Madge Dumpling.