There are two things we used to do well in these islands – death and respect. I remember being at a funeral many years ago and, returning to my car afterwards, passing the local primary school. It was lunchtime, the children were in the playground, and they were absolutely silent. The janitor had seen to it that they were aware of what was happening and how they should behave.

A playground filled with children can behave better, it seems, than the adults frequenting Luskentyre.

Then again, it isn’t entirely the fault of tourists. They are bombarded with images of empty beaches, of empty roads, and the likes of Calmac irresponsibly using words like ‘playground’ to describe a place that is actually a living, working community. That is, a community in the true sense of the word, filled with people whose roots go generations deep, and whose ancestors are buried in the sandy soil of places like Luskentyre and Dalmore.

Unfortunately, these cemeteries, where, respectively,  my grandfather’s people are interred, and where my own father is buried, are adjacent to beaches that people want to visit. This means car parking – and the mundane reality of funerals or mourners visiting graves must not interfere with the Instagram plans of the tourist. Signs reminding folk that some spaces are for cemetery-users only are blithely disregarded. All inconvenient truths go the same way. And the justified backlash from islanders has – unbelievably – met with a mixed reception.

It’s all about respect, you see, and that’s a rare commodity these days. So many (and I don’t say all) visitors display a sense of entitlement that leaves no room for consideration of the fact that this is home to some of us. I have seen the same sort of thing in my own community, where a simple request to respect the cemetery road was not met with the expected, ‘oh, gosh, I’m sorry it’ll never happen again’, but a quite sensational display of me-before-you-ness. Rights trump right for people like these – and I’m afraid the only proper response is to curtail them until the lesson is learned. You cannot appeal to their better nature, nor yet shame them, apparently, and so the only remedy is to put physical barriers in their way.

Not only do I think that cemetery carparks should be kept for cemetery visitors, but I think a message needs to go out about other expressions of respect. Perhaps think about not drying your clothes on the cemetery fence, not tethering your tent to the cemetery wall, and not conducting raucous gatherings within earshot of visiting mourners.

These things are much harder to police because, well, if adults need to be told that this sort of thing is wrong, I feel they may be beyond the reach of improvement.

If you are a visitor, or newcomer to the island, and you’re reading this, I have a wee tip for you: follow what the islanders do. I mean this especially in relation to funerals and cemeteries in this instance, but it’s not a bad watchword for island living in general. We islanders love our home, and we respect it – we have never felt ownership or entitlement because, as any islander will tell you, we belong to it, not the other way around.

The Luskentyre campaign is more important than some seem to realise, not least – apparently – our elected representatives. This is a test case to see whether our councillors and other local leaders are actually prepared to put community first. I hope they too remember a time when this basic level of respect didn’t have to be asked for; I hope they’re not expecting us to beg them to enforce it. 

The Luskentyre campaign is being led by women, and they are still waiting for the support of their council, which is still run by men. I make no comment on what that says about local leadership because you can see that for yourselves.