Before we start, do you mind walking us through where we are and why we’re here?
This is a special place for me. I love this stretch of London because it feels like a collision of my worlds, shiny, modern Canary Wharf sitting right next to old London on the Isle of Dogs. It also connects directly to one of my biggest personal passions: sailing.
The Thames Clippers, now branded as the Uber Boats, run up and down the river here, and they’re linked to a lifelong friend of mine, Morty, who runs Wight Shipyard on the Isle of Wight, who actually built the Clippers. The owner, Sean Collins, became a friend too, he’s a Master Waterman & Lighterman. It’s that small world thing; sailing circles, work circles, life circles, all overlapping in one place.
Tell us who you are and what you do.
I’m Darren Martson. I joke that I’m a vacuum cleaner salesman, man and boy. I fell out of school at 15 and started cleaning windows in my father’s contract cleaning business. Pretty quickly, I realised that selling cleaning equipment was a better way to make a living than doing the cleaning itself.
I was paid commission only, selling out of a car, and after a long working day, going home as a very young father. By 26, I had three kids and a mortgage. The family business had two sides; contract cleaning and equipment sales. Contract cleaning was the bigger operation; at one point we were even financing fleets of vans to clean British Telecom phone boxes.
Over time I became quite isolated in the family business and wanted to buy my way out. A sailing friend introduced me to a banker at Credit Suisse First Boston, here at Cobot Square ironically! I was 27, with three kids, no money, driving from Southampton to Canary Wharf to knock on a banker’s door asking to borrow a couple of hundred grand.
That relationship was pivotal. It forced me to grow up very fast and really understand management information, profitability, things I’d never had to think about in an old school, lifestyle family business.
Give us a fun fact most people won’t know about you.
In 2019, Their Royal Highnesses the Prince and Princess of Wales, William and Kate, joined a sailing Regatta in Cowes. Will (as he wanted to be known) actually sailed on our boat. As part of a sailing race team, my job is to trim the spinnaker, which means I’m constantly talking to whoever’s steering the boat, and we let our future King steer.
For hours I was calling sail trim during a race, all whilst being under the watchful eye of a very serious looking security team. That was a surreal day!
What makes the Livery unique in relation to mental health?
I joined the Livery in the late ’90s through a good friend of mine, Barrie Richards, and over time it quietly changed my confidence. We used to attend with our wives, Kath and Tina, and it helped improve my self-esteem, whilst giving me a real sense of belonging.
Throughout my life, I’ve struggled with impostor syndrome, feeling not quite worthy, sometimes avoiding conversations with people I respect. The Livery environment pushed me to speak up. It taught me to hold my ground, follow through on commitments, and when life really hit me, I found out what fellowship really means.
Was there a time when you struggled with your own mental health, and how did you deal with it?
On 29 December 2017, I lost my wife in a tragic accident. At the same time, we’d just completed a huge acquisition, and I was about to become Master in the Livery Company. My entire world fell apart.
I can’t overstate how traumatic it was, it completely took me apart. I tried professional therapy and went through three or four therapists before finding anyone I could really talk to. Talking to someone really helped, but the formal route didn’t fully land for me.
What truly got me through was support, and it came from everywhere; family, friends, business colleagues. But the Livery support was different. People who weren’t previously close friends checked in consistently, and genuinely.
That kind of heartfelt “How are you?” is hard to explain until you’ve lived through real trauma.
The outdoors also helped enormously, especially sailing and skiing. It removes you from the constant noise; messages, groups, the 24/7 pull of work and phones. Yacht racing forces total focus. You’re in a team, in challenging conditions, needing to function properly just to stay safe.
After my wife died, my mates got me out to Cape Town for a regatta in February 2018. It didn’t fix grief, but it helped me survive it. Sailing has been part of my life since I was five. The bonds you form are unique, being on a boat in tough conditions, having to work as a team. You come back from events with real connection. Through sailing I’ve met Olympians, rock stars, billionaire’s even royalty, people I’d never otherwise cross paths with.
In business there’s still stigma around mental health. Why do you think that is?
Some employers worry that people will hide behind the word “stress.” I’ll be honest, I’ve carried that cynicism myself, so I’ve been part of the problem.
But I’ve also seen genuine mental collapse up close. Watching my son struggle after bereavement, and later seeing my partner, a criminal defence barrister, unravel under sustained pressure, showed me just how fragile the line is between coping and collapse.
I think people need interruption; movement, outdoors, purpose, community. Exactly like what we are doing now; we’re outside, walking, talking, breathing, disconnecting from constant noise. For me, sailing does that perfectly, for others it will be something else, you just need to identify your safe place.
What tips or guidance would you offer to others who may be struggling with their mental health?
Don’t rely on family alone. Build multiple support circles. When things go wrong, it’s those wider networks, mates, teams, shared passions, that help keep you standing.
