When an amateur dies, we say their key has gone silent. These are operators this club was glad to know.
Jim was a long-time Advanced class operator and a fixture of this club — beloved, and always around.
He helped. He had ideas. He told stories. He had fun doing all of it, and made it easy for everyone else to have fun too. That is a rarer thing in a club than any amount of technical skill, and it is what people will remember.
Lawrence had a personality you could not miss and a story for every occasion — he could talk for hours, and you were glad to let him.
He was always around for a chat and turned up at most of what the club did. Being reliably present, year after year, is its own kind of contribution.
It comes from the telegraph era, when every operator had a hand-key and you could recognise a friend by their fist — the rhythm of their sending — long before they identified. When an operator died, their key fell silent. Amateurs have used the phrase ever since, and abbreviate it SK.
If we have left out a member or friend who should be remembered here, tell us and we will put that right.
