This morning, the Herald revealed that broadcaster Andrew Marr had blasted Scotland's Gaelic signs at an event with Anas Sarwar at Labour's party conference in Liverpool, saying that he found them to be "offensive". The journalist said it was “ridiculous” that the sign for Edinburgh's Haymarket station includes a Gaelic translation. In the wake of his comments, we revisit a column from food and drink writer Sarah Campbell published in July this year in which she defends Gaelic road signs and questions those who oppose them.

Read more: Andrew Marr blasts 'offensive' Gaelic signs as he backs Anas Sarwar to be 'proper' FM

I often wonder if those who chose to have Gaelic names on road signs or emergency service vehicles across Scotland knew what an almighty stooshie they were about to create.

From the day it was introduced, this has served as the ace up the sleeve of the entire ‘dead language brigade’ whenever conversation veers towards the subject.

Of course, I shouldn’t mock them. Life as a non-Gaelic speaker in Scotland must be awfully scary.

If ever in need of urgent medical attention, how on earth are they supposed to identify an ambulance as such when bold letters on the bonnet instead read: ambaileans ?

And heaven forbid the day when vehicles speed to an incident with their blue lights flashing, only for those in danger to realise it’s the pesky poileas.

If only the King’s English-adhering police could be there instead to save the day.

(Image: Colin Mearns)

Now before anyone takes umbrage with this obvious wind-up and tries to paint me as a tartan sporting, haggis-mad patriot let me offer an olive branch in admitting that I have a very complex relationship with the Gaelic language.

Growing up on North Uist and Benbecula, my parents had the choice to enrol their children in English mainstream education or Gaelic medium where we would be taught until primary seven age.

Both coming from families who had lived on the islands for generations, they naturally chose a language which we were already hearing on a daily basis, be it in nursery rhymes sung by our grandparents, snippets of conversations at the local shop or on TV shows like Dòtaman or Dè a-nis?.

I’m ashamed to admit that after reaching high school age I dropped Gaelic as a class, instead looking to pursue something 'cooler' like French, a decision that in itself speaks volumes of the attitude much of the rest of the country has towards the Scottish language.

Despite a poor judgement call motivated by pipe dreams of fitting in à Paris, these days I would still refer to myself as fairly fluent in Gaelic with some room for improvement, so long as there are no tests on spelling or grammar involved.

And while I don’t always agree with the Scottish Government’s approach to promoting Gaelic speaking in a modern world, I’m fully behind its efforts.

That’s why a fresh attack on the language in this week’s Herald letters stings so badly.

(Read more: We have better things to spend money on than propping up Gaelic)

Bemoaning the suggestion that Gaelic is in need of ‘urgent support’, it reads: “How many millions are spent trying to resuscitate the deceased?

“We are a proud people, everyone in the world knows this without having to say and write it in a language that only half a dozen folk can understand”.

If ever there was a written example of the wilful ignorance maintained by a discouragingly large group of those outside of the Highlands and Islands, this is surely it.

It’s factually incorrect, blatantly bitter and, in all honesty, borderline offensive.

To the writer of this, who I’m sure wholeheartedly believes they have made a very clever and righteous observation, I’d like to point out that Gaelic-speaking people are also proud.

I’m proud every time I’m out in public and catch someone chatting in Gaelic in passing.

I’m proud every time I travel home and am able to reply to someone from my grandparent's generation in their childhood tongue and see a glimmer of hope in their eyes that Gaelic is alive and well.

I’m proud to be able to answer ‘yes actually, I do’ whenever someone learns where I’m from and asks if I speak Gaelic.

All of this aside, I can’t seem to get past a gut reaction invoked every time this tired argument surrounding taxpayers' money or the 'need' for these signs is rolled out.

Of all the things in the world to moan about, why choose to tear down something that means so much to so many?

Are you really unable to look just a little bit further than your own front garden and realise that far more than ‘half a dozen folk’ are speaking the language daily?

Like it or not, Gaelic is woven into our cultural DNA and carries with it the powerful weight of generations of Scots who have passed before us.

Each conversation spoken in the language is an act of pride and defiance against those who dismiss the communities in which it is still very much alive.

I suggest anyone who disagrees takes a deep breath, pours a cup of tea and downloads Duolingo to conquer their ridiculous fear of the unknown once and for all.

Otherwise? Fan sàmhach.