The Gosport Hospital Radio team providing PA services for the Gosport Falcons

Sunshine, soaring spirits and seriously good beats – 8 June will go down as the day Gosport Hospital Radio traded its studio walls for the roaring terraces of Privett Park, home of the mighty Gosport Falcons.

When we first received the call – “Could you bring your signature sparkle and some public‑address magic to our charity match?” – our answer was a resounding “Absolutely yes!” What followed was a whirlwind of extension leads, microphone checks and playlist brainstorming as the volunteer dream‑team of Billy, Lorna, Vikki, Richard and Lesley prepared to swap comfy swivel‑chairs for pitch‑side positions. If you were anywhere near Gosport that weekend, chances are you heard us testing the subs with a cheeky blast of Sweet Caroline and giggling like kids on the last day of term.

Arriving in style (and hi‑viz vests!)

At 09:00 sharp, the H‑Team convoy rolled through the stadium gates – car boots stuffed with mixing desks, boom‑boxes, and more gaffer tape than your average touring rock band. Billy leapt out first (naturally), brandishing a breakfast bap in one hand and a tangle of XLR cables in the other, declaring, “Right, who ordered the electric spaghetti?” Within minutes, Lorna had commandeered a folding table, transforming it into Mission Control with colour‑coded cue sheets and a flask of tea so strong it could stand up and sing the club anthem.

Richard, our walking sports almanack, paced the touchline like a manager in extra time, reciting Falcon stats while mentally plotting crowd-pleasing trivia questions. Lesley greeted every volunteer marshal by name (she somehow knows everyone in Gosport), and Vikki – the self‑proclaimed “Pop Princess of Hospital Radio” – set about curating a warm‑up playlist guaranteed to make even the most stoic goalkeeper shimmy.

Kicking off the carnival atmosphere

By 10:30, the ground was buzzing. Families streamed through turnstiles, faces painted in gold and navy, the smell of bacon baps mingling with freshly cut grass. Our PA rig sprang to life with Vikki spinning Uptown Funk while Richard boomed the team line‑ups across the park. Kids twirled scarves like helicopter blades; grandparents foot‑tapped in time. Somewhere between Mr Brightside and the classic Pompey Chimes, the Falcons’ centre‑forward gave us a thumbs‑up – a small gesture, but one that set the tone for the whole day: players and presenters united in pure community spirit.

Billy thrived on the ad‑lib shout‑outs: “A massive Falcon‑sized hello to Ward D2 of Gosport Memorial Hospital – we’ve got your backs, folks!” Every acknowledgement bounced off the stands and, we hope, travelled the short hop down Bury Road straight into patients’ rooms, a sonic postcard from the outside world.

The on‑air dream team

While our hospital listeners usually catch us solo in cosy studios, pitch‑side, we became a five‑person relay:

• Billy – Master of Hype. If decibels burned calories, he’d have left five kilos lighter.
• Lorna – Smooth Operator. Her vocal tone could butter toast at twenty paces, and her calm kept tech hiccups invisible.
• Vikki – Playlist Queen. She reads crowds the way meteorologists read clouds: one glance and she’s queuing the perfect tune.
• Richard – Stat‑Attack. From corners won to cups lifted, he served facts hotter than the midday sun.
• Lesley – Community Connector. Armed with a roving mic, she turned every spectator into a potential star of the show.

Picture it: Richard delivers a pithy nugget on the Falcons’ unbeaten home run, Vikki slams Can’t Stop the Feeling into the faders, and Billy darts in to celebrate a junior mascot’s seventh birthday live on air – all within thirty seconds, all perfectly timed. That, friends, is teamwork.

Half‑time hijinks and heroics

When the referee’s whistle signalled a breather (nil‑nil but cracking football), the Gosport Hospital Radio crew cranked the fun dial to eleven. Lesley headed straight for the pie queue, not for sustenance (well, also that) but for interviews. She chatted with Brian, a lifelong Falcon who recalled skipping school in ’68 to watch the club’s first cup win; Amelia, aged six, clutching a homemade sign that read Go Falcons Go!; and Kelly, a nurse from GMH enjoying her weekend off yet still somehow checking her step‑counter like a duty ward‑sister.

Meanwhile, on the decks, Vikki wheeled out a “Gosport Legends” medley: Level 42, Craig David, and, of course, Ken Wheeler’s Sail Away. The crowd sang along, arms aloft, cheese‑buttered pastries momentarily forgotten. Richard teased a prize draw – guess the combined shoe size of the Falcons’ back four (spoiler: 43, 44, 42, 44 – big lads up front, bigger boots at the back!). Billy, ever the showman, orchestrated a Mexican wave that rippled to the burger van, where we’re pretty sure even the ketchup bottle joined in.

When cables tangle and clouds gather

No outside broadcast is complete without a comedic calamity, and ours arrived in the form of a rogue gust of wind that attempted to repurpose our speaker stand as a kite. Cue Billy sprinting like he was contesting the 100‑metre final, one hand on his baseball cap, the other straining to keep the rig earthbound. Crisis averted thanks to emergency tent pegs, several metres of rope, and a sandbag borrowed from a friendly groundskeeper (thanks, Dave!).

Moments later, a slight drizzle threatened to test our kit – but Lorna popped a transparent poncho over the mixing desk, making us look less like seasoned broadcasters and more like a futuristic picnic. Did that stop the party? Not a chance. Vikki doubled down with Wet Wet Wet’s Love Is All Around (because, of course,) and the stands responded with a thunderous sing‑along that all but drowned out the rain.

Goals, glory and golden decibels

If you blinked at the 68‑minute mark, you missed the flash of brilliance that put the Falcons 1‑0 up – a textbook volley that would’ve made Match of the Day highlights if Gary Lineker had been lurking behind our gazebo. Richard’s commentary hit triple‑espresso levels: “Top corner, postage stamp, Falcons fly high!” Billy’s victory roar nearly shook Gosport High Street. We could feel the vibration through our headphones, through the turf, right into our hearts.

And then came Sweet Caroline – again – but this time belted out by 2,000 ecstatic voices in unison, echoing far beyond Privett Park. Somewhere in the wards of Gosport Memorial, we imagine a patient or two punching the air (doctors permitting!).

Why it matters

It’s easy to think of hospital radio as just requests and dedications, but 8 June reminded us why we do what we do. Music and friendly chatter soothe nerves, spark memories, and provide a precious distraction from beeping machines. Every cheer we broadcast, every track we spin, contributes to a tapestry of normality for patients, especially those unable to receive visitors.

Lesley shared the story of Mrs Andrews, a long‑term patient who once told us hearing the crowd noise of a local match made her feel “less boxed‑in, more in the world.” That comment lives rent‑free in our minds and fueled every ounce of effort we poured into the Falcons fixture.

Powered by volunteers (and strong coffee)

Behind the sparkling banter lies dedication. Billy spent the night before double‑checking microphone gains. Lorna laminated cue cards at 2 AM. Vikki raided her personal vinyl stash to source the perfect crowd‑pleaser. Richard rewrote his stat‑sheet after discovering a last‑minute transfer, and Lesley baked flapjacks for anyone who helped hoist speakers.

None of us is paid – unless you count Lesley’s flapjacks as a currency (which, frankly, we do). We give our time because we believe in radio’s unique power to connect. If that resonates with you, spoiler alert: we’d love you on the team.

Wrapping up a winning day

Full‑time whistle, 1‑0 Falcons, happy exhaustion. We high‑fived players, hugged mascots, and posed for selfies with fans clutching novelty foam falcon wings. Packing up felt like deflating a bouncy castle at a child’s party – bittersweet but undeniably satisfying.

The debrief at the stadium café had a strong tea flavour and a hint of collective pride. We ran through listener feedback: one patient said our atmosphere made him forget his drip; another claimed we deserved medals for orchestrating the most incredible rendition of Wonderwall Gosport has ever heard (take that, Oasis!). Job done.

As twilight settled over Stokes Bay, we wheeled the final speaker into the van, radio static faded into cricket song, and a tired but beaming Richard mused, “Same time next year?” The unanimous reply needed no microphone.

Join us – let’s turn up the volume on kindness!

Gosport Hospital Radio is fuelled by volunteers, kind donations and a passion for lifting patient spirits. If you loved what we did with the Falcons – or you just fancy twiddling a fader and announcing the lunch menu in style – become part of our crew.

👉 Volunteer your skills – presenting, producing, tech‑wiring, tea‑making, social‑media‑posting – we welcome it all.

👉 Support us with a donation – every penny goes straight to maintaining our studio, upgrading equipment, and most importantly, delivering smiles to the wards of Gosport Memorial Hospital.

Your generosity keeps the music playing, the banter flowing, and the patients’ morale sky‑high. Whether it’s a one‑off contribution or a regular standing order, you’ll be directly funding comfort, companionship and that all‑important sense of community for those on the road to recovery.

From Billy, Lorna, Vikki, Richard, Lesley and every volunteer behind the scenes – thank you for reading, cheering and caring. Together, we can keep the good vibes rolling, both pitch‑side and bedside.

Donate today, tune in tomorrow, and help us make every day in the hospital sound a little bit brighter.

See you on the airwaves!