30/08/2026
I really didn’t want to write this, but I am genuinely appalled by some of the comments I have seen online regarding the incident on the 16:40 ferry from Brodick to Ardrossan on Friday.
Yes, people were frustrated. Yes, there was a delay. Yes, there was uncertainty, a lack of information and considerable inconvenience. I completely understand that.
What I struggle to understand is how a situation involving a young man’s life became, for some people, an opportunity to complain about inconvenience to their dogs, their children, their journey home, parking fees — and, most disturbingly, to direct anger and abuse towards people who were simply doing their jobs.
The CalMac crew were nothing short of outstanding. They dealt with an extremely serious and traumatic situation with professionalism, compassion and humanity. Those of us who use the ferry regularly know how hard these crews work, how pleasant and helpful they are and they deserve our respect.
The police were there to do one thing: protect life. That should surely be enough said.
And then there was the abuse directed at the female car park attendant because the backlog of cars were taking time to leave the car park and, apparently, because she had the audacity to charge the normal parking fee and smile.
Seriously?
Anyone who knows Angela knows she is an absolute breath of fresh air. Her pleasant manner and lovely smile are a joy to see — particularly for those of us stumbling towards an early ferry before 6am.
She did not cause the delay.
She did not cause the incident.
She was simply doing her job.
And yet somehow she became a target because someone’s journey had been inconvenienced.
When did we become so incapable of recognising the difference between inconvenience and tragedy?
Your dog was still there.
Your child was still there.
Your car was still there.
You were going to get home late.
That is inconvenient.
A family had waited to find out whether their young son was alive.
That is unimaginable.
The first thing I did when I heard the crew announcement, “man overboard”, was call my own son simply to tell him that I love him.
I spoke to the young man’s parents. I heard his father’s cries, I heard his prayers I saw him on his knees, I saw his desperate actions and I saw his wife stand beside him with quiet dignity. I will never forget that.
Can you imagine being in that position?
Can you imagine being with your loved one only moments beforehand and then being left waiting, not knowing whether they were alive?
I can tell you that every minute felt like an eternity. I felt the hope fading. I felt the tears building. And I felt utterly helpless.
And after all that some people were complaining about trivial things.
I genuinely do not care that my own journey was delayed. It was a delay to an ordinary, routine Friday. My life carried on. I got home. My son was well and had his weekend plans mapped out.
For one family, Friday became a day they will never forget.
So perhaps before we type another angry comment, another insult, another accusation or another piece of speculation, we should stop for a moment and think.
Think about the people involved.
Think about the crew.
Think about the police.
Think about the staff who were simply doing their jobs.
And most importantly, think about the family at the centre of this.
We do not know the full story. None of us do.
Words have consequences.
Speculation has consequences.
Cruelty has consequences.
And you simply never know what someone else is already carrying.
We constantly tell our children to be kind. We talk about empathy. We talk about mental health. We tell people that it is okay not to be okay. We talk about men’s mental health and the importance of speaking up.
But kindness cannot just be something we post about.
It has to mean something when we are frustrated.
It has to mean something when we are inconvenienced.
It has to mean something when we are angry.
It has to mean something when we have to find accommodation, rearrange plans or deal with genuine disruption.
But it should also mean having the perspective to recognise when a complaint is reasonable — and when it is simply trivial, selfish and completely out of place.
Because behind every uniform is a human being. Behind every incident is a human story. And behind every comment we make is the possibility that someone who is already hurting may read it.
So before you blame someone, before you insult them, before you call someone a “loonie” or an “idiot”, before you accuse them of lacking humanity because they did their job and smiled at you — stop.
Take a breath.
Ask yourself whether your inconvenience really matters in that moment.
And ask yourself how you would feel if it were your child, your partner, your parent or your friend.
We can do better than this.
