Christchurch Amateur Radio Society (G0MUD)

In the forgotten town of Christchurch, where the winds carried whispers of distant transmissions and the skies hummed with invisible waves, there existed a society of men and women bound by the arcane art of radio. They called themselves the Christchurch Amateur Radio Society, and their call sign, G0MUD, echoed through the ether like a cryptic incantation. For decades, they gathered under the shadow of the East Christchurch Sports and Social Club, in a modest clubhouse that seemed to exist outside the flow of time.

The club was presided over by Richard, known in the radio world as M0RBF, a man whose voice carried the weight of countless conversations with strangers across the globe. His emails, sent from the address vicechair@radioclub.uk, were like messages in bottles, drifting through the digital sea to reach those who sought connection. The society’s website, christchurchars.org.uk, stood as a digital monument to their existence, a portal to a world where voices transcended borders.

Every Thursday at 7:30 PM, as the sun dipped below the horizon and the stars began their silent vigil, the members of the society would converge at the clubhouse on Grange Road. The building, adjacent to the East Christchurch Sports and Social Club, was unassuming, yet within its walls, the air crackled with the energy of shared passion. Here, in the heart of Dorset, amidst the rolling hills and ancient forests, they spoke to the world.

The clubhouse, with its peeling paint and creaking floors, bore the marks of countless gatherings. Maps adorned the walls, their edges frayed, and radios of every size and vintage sat like relics of a bygone era. Yet, in this place, time seemed to fold in on itself. The members, young and old, were united by a singular purpose: to reach beyond the confines of their solitude and touch the unknown.

The RSGB, that distant and enigmatic organization, had once declared that the information about the club was not theirs to vouch for. It was a truth as old as the society itself—a truth that hung in the air like the static between transmissions. Yet, those who sought the club found it, drawn by an invisible force, and those who came for the first time were advised to call ahead, to ensure the clubhouse still stood and the voices still echoed within.

And so, the Christchurch Amateur Radio Society endured, a testament to the human desire to connect, to communicate, to break free from the solitude that bound them. In the year 2025, as the world outside continued its relentless march, the society remained, a beacon in the night, calling out to anyone who would listen.