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There are lots of stories about St. Patrick, and in a moment I’ll tell you some of them. First I’ll just tell you briefly about his life. He was born in Wales which is just across the sea from Ireland. It was the year 373, and the Romans still ruled that part of the world. Many of the people in Wales and Ireland were Druids, who worshipped the sun and other aspects of nature - but Patrick was a Christian. When Patrick was 16 years old, he was walking along the beach when some pirates seized him. They took him to Ireland and sold him as a slave where he worked in the fields.

The Midas Touch Hello, this is Natasha, and this is a story from Ancient Greece about the original gold finger. His name was King Midas and he had what he thought was a great gift. Anything he touched turned to gold. But he soon learned that his golden touch wasn't so much a gift as a curse. This story is called The Midas Touch. There was once a dreadfully ugly beast called Silenus. He pranced over the mountains on a pair of hairy goat’s legs. A long tail swished behind him, but from the waist up he was a man, more or less. His big belly bounced up and down as he ran along.

Since we have not met before, I had better introduce myself properly. My name is Lapis, like the blue stone. That’s because my eyes are beautifully blue. And I am a cat. Not just any cat but a magical cat. Well to tell you the truth, I am still training to be a magical cat, but I plan to be brrrrilliant at magic one day. I live a long time before you will be born, more than two and a half thousand years before you will even be thought of. My country is Egypt but I am told that you will call it Ancient Egypt. I am here to tell you stories. The subject of my tales is eternally fascinating.

The Golden Fish. Hello everybody, this is Natasha and His Royal Highness Prince Bertie the Frog has commanded me to read you the story of The Golden Fish by the Brothers Grimm. Now, as it happens, when I was visiting Bertie and his friends by the pond this morning, I heard Colin the Carp grumping around as his usual way, moaning that there are never any stories on Storynory about fish. "I call it downright unfair," he said. "We are always listening to Bertie drown on and on about frogs and princes and dragons. Quite frankly, does anyone care about stupid, ugly frogs?

At the foot of some high mountains there was, once upon a time, a small village, and a little way off two roads met, one of them going to the east and the other to the west. The villagers were quiet, hard-working folk, who toiled in the fields all day, and in the evening set out for home when the bell began to ring in the little church.

Hello, This is Natasha and I’m here with an old French fairy tale about an evil mouse. Listen on, if you dare. One night, a prince and his hunting party rode through a forest by torchlight. The dogs were on the trail of a fawn. The little creature darted across a stream and hid itself among some bushes, but the pack of hounds did not run her down. Instead, they stopped by the stream and gathered around something else that they had unexpectedly discovered. The prince rode up and jumped down onto the ground. He parted his way through the pack, and only now did he see what they had found.

Hello, This is Natasha, and I’m dropping by to tell you a story from Norway about three Billy Goats, and great big fierce Troll who wanted to gobble them up. Prince Bertie’s friend Tim the Tadpole especially requested this story, because it’s small but very interesting, just like he is – so it will only take me a minute or two to tell it two you. Once upon a time there were three billy goats, who were to go up to the hillside to eat grass and make themselves fat.