I used to walk past the launderette at the top of Agincourt Avenue on my way to Queen’s University. In the winter I would cut through the entry to briefly warm myself in the hot steam that blasted out from the huge tumble driers inside. I always looked forward to this part of the journey: the steam, the smell of freshly laundered clothes, the pretty girl working behind the counter. In the summer I would keep to the pavement, avoiding the steam. Through the open doors the sounds of the launderette billowed out into the street: the growl of the machines, muted conversations, and above it all the tinny clamour of the radio playing pop songs. On one hot day I noticed that the radio had been placed too close to one of the driers, and its plastic side had melted into a twisted, but still functioning, mess. It was playing ‘Disco Inferno’.
Audio Read by Conor Caldwell: Laundry – Conor
Vernacularisms 
When I was growing up in Balfour Avenue, there was a launderette on the Ormeau Road just facing it. I loved taking the weekly wash, and my mother thought I was being very thoughtful. I went because with pennies saved during the week I bought 10 Sovereign cigarettes and smoked myself sick behind the machines. I can’t do that anymore…because now I have a washing machine.
A perfect example of irony, Jason. Put a wry grin on my face.
All the best to you. 🙂
And that’s when you sang “Burn baby burn… Disco Inferno!!”. So accurate, I think!
Ehat a load of rubbish!! Call this a blog?!! I pay my bloody taxes and for what?! This crap?!! This country… Etc etc
Great work JOR!
Kind regards,
Adrian
Yes, I remember it…. from visits to my elder brother’s house in Rosetta….visits to the old Curzon Cinema….Veda bread from Inglis..