The Empty Milk Bottle
It was a dark and stormy night, and the elf was annoyed that it was his turn to put the empty milk bottle out. He was particularly annoyed because he had to take it all the way to the gate, otherwise the badger wouldn’t leave a fresh bottle in the morning. He would get soaked and itwould be a bitch to dry his hat properly before morning.
So he just ran halfway to the gate and threw the bottle over the hedge, then scuttled back to the shelter of the sugar loaf cottage.
The tawny owl saw the bottle land, revolved his head 360 degrees and rolled his eyes skyward, blinking as the raindrops fell into them, then looked back at the milk bottle, lying on its side in the cart track.
Unbeknown to most of the other occupants of the large old house a short way along the country track, who had already left for the ball, Cinderella was just about to leave, aided by her Fairy Grandmother. The pumpkin and the mice had all been suitably converted, as we all know from our childhood (no ??). Off they went to the ball where Cinders had a wonderful, magical evening.
About the same time as Cinders was being dressed by bluebirds and the cat was on a mission to catch seven mice and keep them alive, a tiny frog, recently emerged from the lake and trying out his legs for the first time, was struggling along a rut in the cart track, the water level rising as the storm lashed the woods. Eventually, this little frog, frightened as he was by the wind, the howling storm, the muddy water starting to flow along the rut, came upon a safe haven ~ an overturned milk bottle in which he could shelter until the rain eased. With some difficulty, he clambered into the sanctuary of the bottle.
The mice were struggling ~ not being used to being horses, (well, they couldn’t be, could they?), the carriage was careering about a bit and the mice, sorry, horses, were a bit out of control, stumbling all over the track. They never saw the bottle, but charged on towards the ball, and the rest of that story is well known.
What isn’t known, however, is that the dear little froglet was crushed by the breaking bottle, and was dispatched to frog heaven in the blink of an eye. He was buried in the mud of that flooded cart track, at the edge of town. The Fairy Godmother found out about this, as they do, and caused the village to be renamed “Glassed and Buried”. To this day, his little life is celebrated by music festivals and much celebration. After many years had passed, the town became known as
Glastonbury.