Welcome, pet rock fanciers and your little rocky friends. Come on in out of the cold. It won't be long before mine is one of the only doors open around these parts, because the season of the White Mist has been threatening to descend for a few days now. A few little whisps of mist are drifting around you as you stand in the queue outside, did you notice? That's the Sign! We Growbies are rushing here and there delivering our presents to each other in readiness for the onset of the long winter sleep, heralded by the descent of the White Mist. No one dares to have more than they need in their larders during the season of the White Mist for fear of someone elsewhere having less than they need, (whose death from winter starvation would bring great bad luck upon the magical land of Undergrowby in the coming year). As a consequence I have a many interesting new titbits on my table than you have ever seen, nut cakes, nettle pies, gnomeberry dumplings, tangleroot crunch, dandelion fizz, mint boulders, ice water, etc., but don't worry, Rubblers, they are just gifts to me. I'll have them tidied away in a trice to make way for my own choice of buffet which you know and love, rock cakes and gravel tea.
What is that tinkling noise? I think there is a fairy lost in our midst. Moptop Copperleaf, this is not the home of Wanderella Windmeddler. This is the Stone Quarry, headquarters of the Rubble Club and I am its chairman, the world-famous Madge Dumpling. You can be in the Rubble Club if you like, but you must first own a pet rock.
Wanderella Windmeddler, whom you seek, is the chief wand-maker of the Magic Wand Factory and she lives to the south east of here in the gnomestead known as the Wandmakers' Forest. Hurry off with you, if you are delivering your presents because she is always one of the first to jump into her winter cocoon and one of the last ones out of it. Nothing disturbs her once she has squeezed herself down into her cocoon. Between you and me, what with her shrieking voice and sound sleeping habits, I think she must be a bit deaf, well, either deaf or completely selfish.
She is most unlike my dutiful self, I who always put others' needs before my own. I will be here hosting the Rubble Club, braving the winter to keep you and my little rockies happy. I might climb into my cocoon and have a little snooze now and again, or read last year's Undergrowby Gnews till it is threadbare, but rest assured, Rubble Clubbers, on Fridays I will be wide awake and busy as a bee, grinding up the rock cakes for your buffet.
Only my neighbour, Clockit Quick, the Time and Tide Inspector, outwakes me. His job is to keep a ledger of all the comings and goings in Undergrowby, which he oversees from his tall seafront watchtower in the north. He is a cold shoulder, and poor company at the best of times, but in winter his spirits turn to ice and will not even wave at me through his window when I go out looking for specimens lost in the snow. I would dearly love to get up there in that watchtower of his and snoop out upon everyone for just a few moments but he never lets me in, no matter how many baskets of rock cakes I try to deliver to him. He just ignores me, pretends he is too busy and slams the door. No wonder he has no friends. I have to be content to read his lengthy annual report in the Undergrowby Gnews and imagine myself there witnessing it all for myself.
This week Granny Gray, my shopkeeper at the Magic Wand Factory at the far north end of Dickson Road, Blackpool, has had several delightfully noteworthy visits from some officials of the Rubble Club. My young prefects, John and Jacob and their wise, understanding mother Julie from Farnworth, Bolton, have set up a pretty little aquarium to entertain their little rocky pals and they arrived at the shop with their fish carrier in a little basket(which no doubt doubles as a pet rock carrier at other times) to collect a shoal of baby minnows from Granny Gray.
They also took a pet rock roundabout and various other bits and bobs top further enhance their already fabulously extravagant pet rock living quarters.
Julie, who is one of Granny Gray's favourite Rubble Clubbers, happens to be a talented and prolific artist and she honoured me(via Granny Gray) with one of her beautiful paintings (I suspect it was a White Mist gift, the only one I have ever received from a human). I have placed a photograph of it in pride of place at the top of the page and I shall be framing the original and having it displayed in the shop. It's a pet rock family portrait. There you are, Moptop Copperleaf, that's what pampered pet rocks look like. For her inspirational work in the service of the Rubble Club, Julie has consequently been awarded a Madge Dumpling Special Award badge.
The aforementioned prefects, John and Jacob, came in to the shop wearing their pet rock bouncing nets attached to their clothing, and as promised, they won the star prize for the competition, which was an underwater magic wand stall complete with Undergrowby's champion underwater nose-holding wizard stall-holder( to go in their fish tank). Jacob and John, if you please, just let the wizard out of the fish tank once a year so he can take a breath of fresh air, unless you decide to have the stall out on dry land. He will continue to show off his breath-holding technique for ever, no matter where he is placed. Well, Rubblers, if we could hold our breath for a year, we'd be showing off too, wouldn't we? A round of applause for the winners, John and Jacob!
I am pleased to see that many of you have apparently decided to present each other with orphan pet rocks for your White Mist gift exchange this year, because there has been an unprecedented upturn in the adoption rate. I was not aware that humans celebrated the White Mist, but I can't think what other reason there could be for the sudden rush. Anyway, good that the little darlings find nice welcoming new homes for the winter. The Rubble Club membership will be swollen with warm-hearted, entertaining newcomers to keep us company during the lonely winter months. Next week I will bake extra rock cakes to cater for you all. They're world-famously unmissable, as you will discover.
Tonight, it seems, is the sweet-eating Halloween Party night in the human world, and the Magic Wand Factory shop has been full of humans dressed up as monsters and bedraggled beggars, begging for sweets from a very frightened Granny Gray, who has no sweets to give them. I have sent her off on an expedition to the sweet shop, (leaving Grandad Gray alone to face the mob), to get herself better equipped because the Halloweeners have threatened trouble if they do not get any. Dressed the way they are, I suspect they might be capable of bringing on a rainstorm, which is the only kind of trouble pet rocks care about, so Grandad Gray, the first line of defence, will have to ward them off the best he can until Granny arrives home with the sweets.
I had better go and shout at her to speed her up, so I will leave you now, Rubblers, to mingle with each other and if you have something to say to me, please leave a message and I will reply in person. I remain eternally your faithful chairman and anxious little friend, Madge Dumpling.
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