puszysty

I have acquired a rather splendid scarlet T-shirt which bears the following legend:

THINGS WE DID:
Built this city; shot the Sheriff

THINGS WE DIDN'T DO:
Start the fire; shoot the Deputy

THINGS WE WANT TO DO:
Break free; know what love is

THINGS WE WILL DO:
Rock you, Anything for love

THINGS WE WON'T DO:
That.

I should like to make a feminine version. Can you help? I want phrases sung by women, in whatever context. Any suggestions for any of the categories will be considered gratefully, and I will amend this post accordingly, though bear in mind that I am old-fashioned and may not recognise them all!

THINGS WE DID:

THINGS WE DIDN'T DO:

THINGS WE WANT TO DO:
Zig a zig Ah
be loved by you
danced with somebody
have fun
build a snowman

THINGS WE WILL DO:
survive!
come out of the kitchen
always love you

THINGS WE WON'T DO:
be seen and not heard

THINGS WE CAN'T DO:
say no

THINGS WE NEED:
a hero

Interesting how different these are from the bloke version! Thanks for contributions so far, and I would be delighted to have some more.

The glorious Wordsmiths At Gorsemere continue to bring me joy. Today's episode was possibly the most sublime. One Mr Sheats arrived, and a cricket match ensued, with commentary by, in succession, Sheats, Wordsmith, and Cholerick.

As the episode drew to a close, Dorothy Wordsmith was heard to say, "Oh, dear, Mr Sheats has forgotten his stockings. I shall preserve them in this basil pot." And I was overtaken by relentless giggles.

Seriously. If you think you might enjoy listening to a radio comedy based upon the humble lives of several lakeland poets, let me hasten to assure you that you would, indeed, you would.

And now, I must paint.

Lovely rehearsal this evening, with lots of singing, though we did spend a little while working on the new song. When we sang Good Vibrations, we danced!

I didn't go to rehearsal last week because on Wednesday I had to leave my lentil soup and chips rather hurriedly in order to do some highly dramatic vomiting. My ribs hurt all the next day, so I didn't want to sing. Neither my homemade lentil soup nor chips has ever had that effect on me before, and I didn't care for it.

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Yesterday, funeral for one of my chorus members. The chapel was gratifyingly full. I had to stand, not because I was too late for a seat but because a fellow chorus-member was standing next to me and I knew she has back problems. Managed to sing two of the hymns more or less convincingly, but the third I did not know at all. It has been a very long time since I was in church for anything other than tourism or a funeral.

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I have been listening to The Wordsmiths of Gorsemere, the fabulous BBC Radio 4 production featuring Simon Callow as Colerick (or possibly Cholerick) and Miriam Margolees as Stinking Iris. It is very funny indeed. Dorothy Wordsmith is so devoted to William, and his fiancée/wife Mary never gets to finish a phrase. Several literary associates have dropped in to Vole Cottage with varying degrees of success, but Quinine is currently resident there.

It's old but I have been wanting to listen to it for years, and Beast got it for me for Christmas.