At first glance, this appears to be any normal power station. But this is simply not the case. This majestic creation is Ratcliffe on Soar Power Station, better known to the world as The Place Where Jojo's Daddy Works.
Jojo Clayton, possibly really called Josephine Clayton, lived at East Leake many years ago, when I too lived there. She was my best friend. I even have a photograph of her sticking an ice cream up her nose at one of my birthday parties, but for fear of her finding this page, I won't put it up here. Not that it's at all likely she'll find this page, because even I can't find this page if I do a Google search for it. So unless she's typing random addresses into the address bar, she's very unlikely to come across it. But I digress.
I even, in my sweet little three-year-old way, proposed to Jojo and gave her an engagement ring. Even at that age, Jojo was smart enough not to commit herself to any such arrangements, and wouldn't wear the ring. Well, fine, Jojo. No hard feelings, huh? We can still be friends?
While I don't know what happened to Jojo herself, I do know what happened to The Place Where Jojo's Daddy Works. It is still there. Jojo's Daddy was employed to make the smoke come out of the chimneys. He was given a little bike to pedal, and he ground the smoke. We go past it every Wednesday evening, and usually, Jojo's Daddy is working hard grinding smoke. But sometimes he slacks. I suppose he can be forgiven. It must be hard work.
When considering holiday venues this year, The Place Where Jojo's Daddy Works was pretty high up on the list. But we decided that, although it would truly be a mystical and wondrous experience, it could potentially be more fun than our minds could cope with. We have concluded that it is best to stick to more mundane places, like Peru. Maybe next year?