X marks the spot where my brain should be

Fuckety fuck and buggery shite. I forgot to vote. I realised this when I was about ten miles down the M6 from home and thought why oh why didn't I write down that list of stuff I had to do this morning. I topped up the chickens' feed and water, emptied the compost bowl, put out the bin, put the dishwasher on, shut windows, closed curtains, fed, washed and dressed a small boy and myself, put washing in a binbag to take to my mum and packed clothes and stuff for a couple of nights away. But I didn't pop round the corner to vote in the European elections.

I even thought about turning round and going back. Or getting to my parents', leaving little man, then going back. But then I noticed the queue on the other side of the motorway. I saw a motorbike embedded in the central reservation. Then several miles of stationary traffic. The motorbike - not nice to think about at all on a sunny summer's morning. But the queue also got me thinking about how unprepared I am for getting stuck on the motorway with little man. I go up and down the M6 a lot to see my parents. But despite having a boot full of junk I have nothing useful. No bottles of water, no snacks, not even any spare nappies and wipes as I know my mum has some at their house.

So I didn't go back to vote, which makes me feel bad. For the record, although I had been considering giving little man the pencil and telling him to make his mark, I would have voted Green Party. And my next task is to sort out the boot of my car and put some useful stuff in there. That's after I do the Codeword my mum has been saving for me because it's so hard. And sorry for the language, mum, but you have to pass a test in eloquent swearing before you're allowed to work for a newspaper.

And on the subject of motorways, I continue to marvel at the giant phallus now towering over the M62 near the Widnes junction. It's supposed to be the elongated head of a girl but the parting in her hair is unfortunate. And it's apparently supposed to be a monument to the area's mining heritage (I'm sure all the ex-miners are really chuffed) but I think the artist got his shafts mixed up.