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Samantha Lee Howe ‘s Seven Favourite things.

Picture by Annemarie Bickerton https://www.annemariebickerton.co.uk

Steven Smith chats to Samantha.  

Samantha Lee Howe is an award-winning author, screenwriter, and broadcaster, known for her ability to craft gripping, emotionally rich narratives. Her latest release, A Thorn in the Rose, launches the Mel Greenway Investigates series, set in post-World War II Britain. The novel follows Lady Melinda “Mel” Greenway, a former army mechanic, who uncovers a body buried beneath the rose garden of the crumbling Avonby Estate. As Mel digs into the mystery, she faces a dangerous web of family secrets, class divisions, and unresolved romance, all while navigating the tensions between the estate’s wealthy residents and its resentful staff. Blending suspense with social history, Howe’s storytelling draws readers into a compelling world of intrigue and mystery.

Picture Annemarie Bickerton all make up Ayesha Baig

In celebration of her new book, Samantha shares her seven favourite things — offering a personal look into the inspirations and interests that fuel her creativity. From her fascination with forgotten histories to the quiet moments of reflection that help her develop unforgettable characters, Samantha’s list reveals the influences behind her writing and the passions that drive her. Whether it’s her love of storytelling, her advocacy work, or her dedication to unearthing hidden truths, Samantha’s journey as an author continues to resonate with readers worldwide. A Thorn in the Rose is just the beginning of an exciting new chapter in her career.

I have so many favourite things that this was a tough one. But in no particular order, here is my seven favourite things.

Ballgowns

Yes, I adore a fancy frock — particularly when there’s a suitably glamorous excuse to wear one. There is something wonderfully transformative about a ballgown: the weight of the fabric, the sweep of the skirt, the quiet confidence it lends the wearer.

My favourite gown was designed by the formidable businesswoman Heather Hardy, who owns the highly successful prom, wedding, and occasionwear shop Glitz and Glamour Boutique, where I regularly indulge my love of elegant dressing. Some time ago, Heather turned her considerable talent to creating her own VIP range — a venture that met with well-deserved success.

Most wonderfully of all, she designed a dress with my favourite style firmly in mind and even named it after me. It remains a deeply flattering honour — proof that sometimes a love of beautiful clothes can be rewarded with something truly personal and unforgettable.

https://www.facebook.com/GlitzGlamourboutiqueSleaford/

Wine

My favourite wine is red, and I’m particularly partial to a good Malbec. Rich, smooth, and reassuringly full-bodied, it’s a wine I return to time and again. As a result, my go-to choice — reliable, consistent, and eminently quaffable — is Casillero del Diablo Malbec. It never disappoints, whether opened for a quiet evening at home or shared with friends.

They also produce a very fine Carménère, which I enjoy just as much — a slightly bolder companion with depth and character, perfect for lingering conversations and unhurried dinners.

Cheese.

Self-indulgent, I know — but wine and cheese truly do belong together. I have a particular fondness for baked Camembert, especially since I first shared one with my husband, David, on our very first date. It was a long time ago now, yet it has never been forgotten. Even today, a Camembert still feels like a small celebration in itself, and I love to bring one out for us on special occasions, as a quiet reminder of where our story began.

Cats

My beautiful furbaby, Skye, is my constant companion when I’m writing. Even now, she’s curled up against my leg as I type, quietly supervising proceedings in the way only a cat can.

What I love most about cats, in general, is their individuality. No two are ever quite the same; each has a personality entirely its own. Skye possesses the softest, sweetest nature, endlessly affectionate and reassuring — yet she also has a mischievous streak that appears whenever things fail to go her way.

Case in point: eating the fake snow off the Christmas tree, an act guaranteed to provoke a reaction from us and, I suspect, part of the appeal. It’s this blend of gentleness and gentle rebellion that makes her such a joy — and such an essential presence in my everyday life.

Skye the cat .

Birthday cake

I adore birthday cake, and the very best part is always the fondant icing. There’s something indulgent and irresistible about it — smooth, sweet, and unapologetically decadent. Still, I’m rather glad it only makes an appearance twice a year in our household, because it’s exactly the sort of pleasure one could develop a dangerous fondness for. Given half the chance, I suspect I could become thoroughly addicted

My Laptop

I honestly couldn’t live without my laptop. It’s an essential part of my daily life, serving as my main tool for work, communication, and social media. It’s where emails are written, ideas are shaped, and conversations are kept alive.

I don’t play computer games, but I do enjoy using it creatively — designing posters and banners, experimenting with layouts, and bringing ideas to life on the screen. Of course, it also has its less industrious moments. Every now and then, it becomes the perfect instrument for procrastination, doubling as a portal to streaming series when I really should be doing something else.

Practical, creative, and occasionally indulgent, my laptop has become far more than just a piece of technology — it’s a constant companion in both my working and wandering hours.

My Kitchen

As I love to cook, my kitchen is my favourite room in the house. It is also the hub of every party we have, and I’m always amazed by how everyone congregates in there each time. I take great pride in it too, and it always has to have clear and clean surfaces, ready, as I’m always saying, to cook the next meal.

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Steven’s Viewz

Is it ever okay not to invite a family member to a major life event?
Is it ever acceptable to distance yourself — or even cut ties completely?

Picture Graham Martin https://www.menart.co.uk/book-now

Steven’s Viewz

Welcome to Steven’s Viewz — the first of 2026. And let’s start the year with an uncomfortable truth.

Adam and Holly

Is it ever okay not to invite a family member to a major life event?
Is it ever acceptable to distance yourself — or even cut ties completely?

The short answer is this: yes, sometimes it is not only acceptable, it is necessary.

The question has been dragged into the spotlight following the wedding of the year, as Adam Peaty married Holly Ramsay and chose not to invite his mother. Predictably, the outrage machine kicked into gear. Headlines screamed. Opinions flooded in. Armchair judges — armed with no facts and limitless certainty — rushed to condemn.

Here’s what struck me most: how quick people are to defend family in theory, and how unwilling they are to accept the damage family can cause in reality.

Not all families are The Waltons.
Some families are battlegrounds dressed up as photo albums.

Behind the smiling Christmas cards and Facebook posts lie power struggles, control, emotional manipulation, and silence that screams louder than words. And when someone finally says “enough,” the world often turns on them — not the behaviour that pushed them there.

I know this terrain well.

I grew up in a family where people disappeared without explanation. At nine years old, I came home to find myself locked out. Eventually, the letterbox opened and my mother asked, “Are you on your own?” A row between her and her mother — my grandmother — had ended the relationship entirely. One moment she was part of our lives; the next, she was erased.

Visiting my grandparents had once been a joy. Then it became forbidden. When I later wrote to my gran, there were consequences. At fourteen, I was sent alone to Glasgow — not to reconnect, but to persuade my grandparents not to take my father’s side in court. That was the last time I ever saw them.

That isn’t family warmth.
That’s family politics.

So when people scoff and say, “But she’s his mother,” I don’t hear wisdom — I hear denial.

Adam and muu Caroline .

Because sometimes family isn’t a source of love. Sometimes it’s a source of fear, obligation, and emotional exhaustion. And no wedding day — no milestone — should be overshadowed by anxiety about who might erupt, undermine, or hijack the moment.

Much as you try to make it work, some people are only content when they are in control. When they aren’t centre stage, they create drama to pull the spotlight back. And when confronted, they cast themselves as the victim — never acknowledging the trail of damage behind them.

Let’s be honest: if a friend behaved that way — belittling you, calling you names, sabotaging your happiness — would you keep them in your life? Of course you wouldn’t. Yet when it’s family, we’re told to endure it. Smile through it. Absorb it.

Why?

Mental health does not become optional because someone shares your DNA.

Often, when people move into new social circles or build lives different from the ones they were raised in, it triggers insecurity in those left behind. Even when efforts are made to include them, their anxiety spills out as disruptive behaviour. Weddings, birthdays, celebrations — all become stages for unresolved resentment.

If Adam’s mother were truly the injured party, dignity would have been her strongest ally. Silence, reflection, restraint — not public outrage. Those who are genuinely wronged rarely need to shout the loudest.

Adam didn’t just make a decision about a wedding invitation. He changed his surname. That is not impulsive. That is not petty. That is the culmination of years of internal conflict, careful thought, and emotional cost.

And I applaud him for doing it early — before resentment calcifies, before damage multiplies, before patterns repeat. Family member may love you but it does not allow them to hurt you and be in denial.

No family member should ever make you feel small, fearful, or unworthy. Family should be the safest place — not the one you brace yourself for.

Sometimes the bravest, healthiest choice is to step away. Not out of bitterness, but out of self-respect. Not to punish, but to protect.

And if that makes people uncomfortable, perhaps it’s because it forces them to confront a truth they’d rather ignore:

Family doesn’t get a free pass to hurt you.

Why Amandaland Was the Christmas Treat We Didn’t Know We Needed

There is a particular kind of Christmas television that feels like slipping into a familiar jumper: slightly stretched, deeply comforting, and faintly ridiculous. The Amandaland Christmas special is exactly that kind of viewing — and all the better for it.

Christmas Day television is a battlefield. Big budgets, earnest dramas, and aggressively “heartwarming” narratives often jostle for attention, all while families argue over the remote and someone burns the sprouts. Amandaland cuts through the noise by doing something radical: it knows precisely what it is. A sharp, character-driven comedy about social aspiration, emotional repression, and the very British terror of appearing ordinary — now wrapped in tinsel.

The episode’s premise is delightfully simple. Amanda, our tightly wound heroine, decides to recreate a “perfect” childhood Christmas at her aunt’s country home. Naturally, this requires absolute aesthetic control, emotional denial, and an unwavering belief that nothing — not weather, children, or other people — should interfere with her vision. What follows is a festive slow-motion collapse, played with exquisite comic timing.

Enter Jennifer Saunders, who turns up as Aunt Joan like a glitter cannon fired directly into the episode. Saunders doesn’t merely steal scenes — she annexes them. Her performance is gloriously unfiltered, full of physical comedy, throwaway lines, and the sense that she is enjoying herself enormously. This is not nostalgia casting; this is a master at work, reminding us how joyful comedy can be when it’s driven by confidence rather than caution.

Then there’s Joanna Lumley, a woman who could make a shopping list sound withering. As Amanda’s emotionally glacial mother, Lumley delivers her lines with that unmistakable mix of elegance and quiet disdain. Every raised eyebrow lands like a punchline. She doesn’t chase laughs — she allows them to come to her, which somehow makes them sharper. Watching Lumley and Saunders share the screen again is less a reunion and more a reminder: this is what happens when comic icons are trusted to do what they do best.

What makes Amandaland such perfect Christmas viewing is its refusal to be falsely sentimental. Yes, there’s warmth here — but it’s earned, not imposed. The show understands that Christmas isn’t magical because it’s perfect; it’s memorable because it rarely is. The forced cheer, the unresolved family tensions, the desperate attempts to manufacture tradition — all of it rings painfully, hilariously true.

In an era where television often feels either too bleak or too bland, Amandaland occupies a sweet spot we desperately need more of. It’s clever without being smug, affectionate without being soft, and funny without shouting for attention. Most importantly, it trusts its audience — and its performers — to appreciate humour rooted in character rather than spectacle.

By the time the credits roll, you feel lighter. Not because everything’s been neatly resolved, but because you’ve laughed at the chaos instead of pretending it doesn’t exist. And really, isn’t that the whole point of Christmas television?

More of this, please. Preferably every year. https://www.bbc.co.uk/iplayer/episode/m002p137/amandaland-christmas-special

Wishing you an amazing 2026 please support 2shades by sharing and subscribing .

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Steven’s Viewz A Christmas Message wishing for Empathy in 2026.

As we approach the end of another eventful year and step into the promise of 2026, I want to begin by wishing every one of you a very Happy Christmas. Whether you celebrate the season quietly, joyfully, or somewhere in between, I hope the coming weeks bring you warmth, connection, and moments of genuine peace. Christmas is a time of reflection as much as celebration, and for me, looking back over 2025 brings both change and gratitude.

One of the biggest changes this year was saying farewell—though never goodbye—to my gorgeous friend and co-founder of 2Shades, Adishiri Chengappa. Many of you will know her as the bright, compassionate, and fiercely driven woman who helped bring this magazine to life. Adishiri has returned to India to study counselling, and I have absolutely no doubt she will become a brilliant one. Her heart, her empathy, and her ability to really listen to people make her an extraordinary human being, and those are precisely the qualities that will make her excel in her new profession.

Although Adishiri is stepping down from the magazine to focus on her studies, she remains a lifelong friend—both to 2Shades and to me personally. Our bond is permanent, and her contribution to the magazine will always be part of its foundations. Behind the scenes, we are now in discussions with a new partner who will join the 2Shades family and help carry the torch forward.

For those of you who may be newer readers, let me say this clearly: 2Shades has never been “just” an LGBTQ+ magazine. From day one, we envisioned a vibrant, inclusive space—a place for everyone. A magazine that is joyful yet unafraid; stylish yet unfiltered; a platform for voices that deserve to be heard. We speak our minds, we cover subjects that others shy away from, and we stand firmly by our philosophy that representation and honesty matter.

Over the years, we’ve covered everything from fashion, art, and entertainment to some of the most difficult and deeply important topics affecting people today. We have reported on male rape, mental health, identity, domestic violence, addiction, grief, and more. The world is multifaceted, and so are the people in it; 2Shades aims to reflect that complexity.

A huge part of what makes this magazine special is our remarkable team of columnists. Our Agony Aunt, Heidi Gammon, continues to grow in popularity, offering advice with wit, warmth, and plain-spoken honesty. Dr Anna Kennedy OBE brings vital insight, advocacy, and compassion through her work in autism awareness and support. Our beauty expert Clare McSweeney adds glamour, empowerment, and the kind of practical advice that boosts confidence. And this year we welcomed Richard Andrews, who’s new “Money Matters” column is already proving invaluable to readers navigating finances during turbulent times.

Clare 2Shades columnist with Aston Avery she is on Gateway every month .

All of them are thriving on social media, and their readership continues to soar—a testament to the authenticity and relevance they bring.

What makes all of this even more remarkable is that the magazine still has no sponsors. I work entirely for free, as do many involved. And we do it because we believe in 2Shades, in its purpose, and in the community surrounding it. But as we look ahead to the future—and to the possibility of expanding globally—sponsors and advertisers will eventually be essential. If you’ve enjoyed the work we’ve done, if the magazine has informed, entertained, or supported you in any way, then please help us grow by spreading the word. Share the link, recommend us, tell people who we are and what we stand for. That simple act makes a world of difference.

And speaking of difference: there is something else I’d like to ask this Christmas.

If you feel moved to show appreciation for the magazine’s work this year, please consider donating to Anna Kennedy Online, a charity that means an incredible amount to me personally. Not only is Anna a dear friend, but I am honoured to have been a patron of her autism charity for nearly twelve years—something I remain immensely proud of. The work AKO does is life-changing for autistic children, adults, and families across the UK. If you would like to donate, the details are below; even the smallest contribution helps.

Dr Anna Kennedy OBE with me.

Looking ahead, my biggest hope is that 2026 will be the year 2Shadesbecomes a global success. A huge portion of our readership already comes from the United States and Australia, which shows that our message resonates far beyond the UK. We speak to universal experiences—identity, struggle, connection, joy, and truth. These things transcend borders.

And that brings me to my wish for 2026, a simple yet powerful one:
More empathy. More understanding. More respect.

We live in an increasingly polarised world, where disagreement is seen as a personal attack and differing opinions are met with hostility rather than curiosity. One of the wisest things I heard this year came from Peter Tatchell at the screening of “Legendary Children: All of Them Queer.” He said:

“By going into other places and organisations and being your authentic self, making a positive difference, people will start to change their views.”

That stayed with me, because it reminds us that real progress rarely comes from shouting or fighting—it comes from presence, compassion, and consistency.

Yet too often, respect is missing from the smallest everyday interactions. I’ll give you an example. I have not eaten red meat or pork for 49 years. It’s part of who I am. I don’t need to explain why; it doesn’t need to be debated. Yet more times than I can count, I’ve sat down to a meal only to be told, “Oh, just scrape it off,” as if my boundary were an inconvenience rather than something worthy of respect.

It’s such a small thing, but small things matter. Empathy shows itself in the details. Most people, of course, are thoughtful and considerate—but we all know others who refuse to see beyond their own beliefs. They hold strong opinions on everything yet become instantly outraged if you question theirs. They expect understanding but rarely offer it in return.

And then there are those who appear addicted to drama—who cannot be content unless they are creating conflict or turning an event into something about them. Rather than bringing joy, talent, or positive energy to a gathering, they bring chaos. It is, in my opinion, a kind of addiction in itself. A hunger for attention that stifles empathy and dims the light for everyone else. As such addiction is an illness and I have empathy there. However when an illness is contagious or has a knock on effect on your mental health you need to walk away in the end.

Imagine how different the world could be if empathy were something we practised as naturally as breathing. If instead of reacting, we paused. Instead of judging, we listened. Instead of assuming, we asked.
If 2026 could bring even a fraction more understanding into everyday life, what a transformation we would see.

So as we wrap presents, raise glasses, and welcome the new year, my message is this:
Celebrate with kindness. Speak with honesty. Live authentically. Respect differences—not just the ones that are easy, but the ones that challenge you. And above all, look for ways to make someone else’s world a little better.

To every reader, supporter, contributor, and friend of 2Shades: thank you for being part of this journey. Here’s to a beautiful Christmas, a hopeful New Year, and a 2026 filled with courage, connection, and compassion.

With love and gratitude,
Steven

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Dr Anna Kennedy OBE Column

Anna Kennedy here, wishing all 2Shades readers a Happy Holiday, a wonderful Christmas, and a brilliant start to 2026.

As we head into one of the most magical—and often most demanding—times of the year for families of autistic children and adults, it’s important to remember that the festive season can bring unique challenges. While Christmas is filled with lights, music, gatherings, and excitement, these same elements can also create sensory overload, anxiety, and feelings of being overwhelmed. With a little planning, understanding, and flexibility, it’s possible to create a festive period that feels joyful, calm, and inclusive for everyone.

Here are my top seven tips to help ensure the Christmas season goes smoothly for autistic children and adults, as well as their family and friends:

Keep routines where possible.
Routines offer predictability and comfort, especially during a time of year when everything else seems to change. Try to keep familiar daily patterns in place — this can include mealtimes, bedtimes, and regular activities. Even small, consistent moments can help anchor the day and reduce stress. My son Angelo thrives on routine and planning, as things can become quite overwhelming for him.

Create a quiet, safe space.
Christmas often means a busier house, louder environments, and extra stimulation. Setting up a quiet area in the home — such as a bedroom, a corner of the living room, or a cosy den — can allow someone to step away and regroup when needed. You know your child or adult best, so place comforting, familiar items such as soft blankets, favourite toys, calming music, or noise-cancelling headphones.

Prepare for changes in advance.
Many autistic people feel more comfortable when they know what to expect. Talk through upcoming events such as school plays, family visits, or trips to busy shops. Visual schedules, countdown calendars, or simple checklists can all help. This preparation reduces anxiety and provides a sense of control.

Introduce decorations gradually.
The sudden arrival of bright lights, strong scents, and sparkly decorations can be overwhelming. Instead of transforming the house overnight, add decorations slowly over several days. This gentle approach allows the sensory environment to shift at a manageable pace and gives everyone time to adjust. This really helps my son, as changes in familiar surroundings can be upsetting for him.

Be mindful of sensory overload.
Christmas comes with many sensory triggers, such as flashing lights, loud music, unfamiliar foods, and busy gatherings. Think about the sensory needs of your loved one and tailor celebrations accordingly. You might dim lights, lower music volume, offer familiar snacks, or plan shorter visits. It’s all about creating comfort, not pressure.

Manage expectations.
Not everyone wants a busy, noisy Christmas — as I know well with my own family — and that’s absolutely okay. Traditions may need to be adapted. Smaller gatherings, shorter activities, or celebrating at home rather than travelling may be more suitable. Focus on what feels right for your family rather than what is expected.

Allow time for rest and recovery.
Even enjoyable events can be draining. Build in downtime before and after activities. Gentle routines, quiet mornings, or restful evenings can help everyone recharge and enjoy the season more fully.

And don’t forget to allow time for yourself as parents and carers. Take five minutes whenever you can to recharge your batteries — I know it’s not always easy.

I’m really excited that in 2026 we have so much happening at Anna Kennedy Online. We’re kicking off the year with the fantastic, award-winning author Samantha Lee’s book launch on 28th February at the Firepit Gallery, with all profits from the night being donated to the charity. It will also be the 15th year of Autism’s Got Talent. Plus, booking for our gala ball — the Autism Hero Awards in May — is now open. Then there is the Autism & Art Show in July, and so much more.

My head is spinning just thinking about it with excitement! Sending positive vibes, and see you all next year!

Please make a donation to Anna kenned on line for Christmas. https://www.paypal.com/donate/?hosted_button_id=RKNE6GRMHJUP2

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Heidi is Back. Gateways agony aunt and our own in house problem solver.

When they love a bad boy .

Dear Heidi
How are you? Please can I beg for your help? My best friend is driving me mad. She goes from one bad relationship to another. She loves the bad boy look — covered in tattoos and looking like they got out of prison last week. It’s always a car crash, and to be honest, my empathy is running low. It’s my birthday soon, and honestly, her whining on about her love life is not my idea of fun. Would it be wrong not to invite her?
— Nadine, Essex

Dear Nadine,
Oh, the endless bad-boy drama — I think we’ve all had a friend like this! It’s exhausting watching someone you care about drive straight into the same brick wall again and again, isn’t it? Here’s the thing: you can’t fix her, and it’s not your job to. If she chooses chaos, that’s her story to live — but you’re allowed to protect your own peace. For your birthday, surround yourself with people who bring joy, not stress. If inviting her will spoil your day, then don’t. You can see her another time when you have the energy to listen. Being a good friend doesn’t mean being a doormat — sometimes it means stepping back with love. Or be brave and tell her how you feel, that it’s draining you.
Love, Heidi

Dear Heidi
Really love the show. My husband has always been a bit homophobic. Six months ago, he liked my hair so much he wanted a few highlights. Knowing he’s not great about the gay thing, I suggested he shouldn’t go to my beautiful stylist — who is also a friend — but he insisted. His hair looked amazing, but a few weeks later I was shocked to find he’d been out for drinks with my hairdresser, and now they’ve become friends. He says it’s rubbish that he’s homophobic and that he enjoys the laughs they have together. There’s a lads’ weekend to Ibiza coming up — no ladies allowed, which is fine — but can you imagine my hairdresser going too? I asked him why, and he said he’s going anyway and will get them into a few clubs. What’s going on?
— Marieanne, Southend

Dear Marieanne,
Well, this is a twist! It sounds like your husband has discovered that friendship doesn’t have to come with labels — and that’s actually a good thing. Maybe getting to know your hairdresser has opened his eyes a little and softened his old prejudices. As for the Ibiza trip — I can see why your eyebrows are raised! But before your imagination books a one-way ticket to Jealousville, take a breath. This might simply be two people enjoying new company and shared humour. If your instincts tell you there’s something deeper going on, have an honest, calm chat. But don’t jump to conclusions — this could be the best thing to happen to your husband’s attitude. Who knows? He might come home with a tan, a hangover, and a new respect for your fabulous friend.
Love, Heidi

Dear Heidi
I am madly in love with this lad, and he’s only gone and asked my friend to the dance! Honestly, Heidi, I am fuming — and she knew I liked him. I’m fifteen, and she dresses like she’s a dancer, while my mum says no to lashes and short skirts. It’s not fair. I’ll probably never speak to her again. What can I do?
— Mandy, Basildon

Dear Mandy,
Oh sweetheart, teenage love can feel like the end of the world — but I promise, it isn’t. You’re fifteen, and your heart is still learning who deserves it. This boy clearly doesn’t, and your friend’s choices say more about her than they ever could about you. You don’t need lashes or short skirts to shine — confidence is far more magnetic than mascara. Let her have her dance; you focus on being you. One day soon, someone will see the real you and won’t want to dance with anyone else. For now, dry your tears, hold your head high, and remember — nothing burns brighter than self-respect.
Love, Heidi

Dear Heidi
I’m feeling really down. I’m so fat, my budget won’t stretch to fat injections, and the gym just leaves me flat. No girls like me, and I’m nineteen and not going out anymore. What can I do?
— Peter, Brighton

Dear Peter,
First, let me tell you this — you are not alone. So many young people feel exactly the way you do, especially with all the “perfect” bodies plastered across social media. But real attraction doesn’t come from injections or six-packs — it comes from self-worth, kindness, and confidence. Start small: walk, move, cook decent food, talk to people. Find one thing every day that makes you feel good — music, a hobby, helping someone, anything that builds you up instead of tearing you down. The more you value yourself, the more others will see your worth. Confidence isn’t something you buy — it’s something you grow, and it lasts far longer than any gym membership.
Love, Heidi

Dear Heidi
My husband has announced that his mother is coming for Christmas. She’s horrible — the most passive-aggressive, rude woman you could meet. We’ve never got on; she has a way of finding a cloud in every silver lining. She’s on her own, and honestly, that’s what she deserves. My husband says she’s not that bad. Should I tell him it’s me and the children or her — and leave home for Christmas?
— Sandra

Dear Sandra,
Ah, the mother-in-law Christmas horror — a timeless festive classic! I can hear the carols already: “Silent night? Not likely.” You clearly feel hurt and unseen by your husband, but issuing ultimatums rarely ends well. Instead, set clear boundaries. Tell him you’ll welcome his mother — but only if everyone treats each other respectfully. If she can’t manage that, then maybe she stays elsewhere next year. Remember, Christmas is one day. Don’t let her steal your sparkle — pour a glass of something festive, smile sweetly, and rise above her barbed comments. Nothing annoys a passive-aggressive person more than calm happiness.
Love, Heidi

Hi Heidi
Not really a problem, but how do you get to be a counsellor or agony aunt?
— Simon

Dear Simon,
What a lovely question! Becoming a counsellor or agony aunt starts with empathy — and you clearly have that. Training in counselling, psychology, or journalism helps, but life experience and genuine curiosity about people matter just as much. Start small: volunteer with support organisations, write advice pieces online, or train in active listening. The best agony aunts aren’t perfect — they’re just honest, compassionate, and willing to help others make sense of their messiest moments. And who knows, Simon — you might be writing your own “Dear Simon” column one day!
Love, Heidi

https://www.counselling-foryou.co.uk

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Columns People Travel

Steven’s Viewz looks at Holidays

HOLIDAYS

Me on holiday in the Grand Cayman Islands

Steven Smith explores the emotional impact of going on holiday—how it can make or break friendships, test your sanity, and turn dream escapes into nightmare getaways. PLUS: His top tips for surviving travel with friends.

According to a Daily Telegraph survey conducted by Lloyds of London, eight out of ten people suffer from pre-holiday stress. In fact, numerous studies suggest that after divorce, house moves, and bereavement, going on holiday ranks as one of life’s most stressful events.

The Passion for Travel

Like many in the LGBTQ+ community, I’m fortunate to have the means and opportunity to travel widely—something linked to higher disposable income among our demographic. For me, travel is a passion. I’ve trekked Machu Picchu in Peru, cruised the Nile, dived beneath waterfalls, and flown over volcanoes by helicopter in Maui. I cherish those moments.
Travelling with my partner of 18 years was always a joy. Sure, we had the odd delay or hiccup, but I adore airports and took most things in stride.

Add college friends into the mix, however, and you’ve got a different story. Assuming your friends have the same holiday agenda—or are as organised as you—can be a huge mistake.

Chiang Mai erotic garden.

Underpants Around His Ankles

It was Christmas morning in Gran Canaria. In the living room of my one-bedroom apartment, a large bearded bear of a man lay passed out on the floor. No, it wasn’t Santa. He had his trousers and underpants around his ankles—but had forgotten to remove his shoes. Behind him stood a naked, naughty elf. It was my friend, Brian Murphy, and I was ready to kill him.

My other friend, Blake Matthews, was in the villa next door and had been banging the headboard all night with a man who claimed to be a straight male escort from Croydon. Right.

Not quite the festive morning I had imagined. Despite our prior agreement not to bring random men home—so we could enjoy a calm Christmas breakfast together—it had quickly descended into chaos.

I packed my rucksack, stepped over the bear, and went off to enjoy a solo breakfast on the seafront.

What had I been thinking?

Gran Canaria wasn’t even my idea. A travel company, pleased with a few articles I’d written, gifted me a flight and villa for Christmas. It was more of a studio apartment, really. They kindly offered a discounted flight for a guest, and before long, five people wanted in. Suddenly, I was playing travel agent, and everyone started bitching about each other. Stress had already set in before we’d even packed our bags.

Two days before departure, I sent out a group text with flight times, terminal info, and villa directions. I added that I’d be checking in solo and would see them either at the gate or on the flight.

Blake replied: “CONTROL FREAK. RELAX. I’LL BE THERE.”

Another couple pulled out, saying Blake had offended them. I didn’t have the energy to argue.

At Gatwick, I stood alone at the gate. Just as boarding began, Brian appeared, full of excuses. No sign of Blake—until mid-air, when I felt a strange sense of relief. Blake had spent the last few days moaning about Brian, only to suddenly announce: “Oh, I love Brian,” as he puffed a menthol cigarette. A week later, the arrangement of Brian and me sharing an apartment—with Blake next door—became another source of friction.

Welcome to Hell

Arriving in Gran Canaria, my jaw dropped. “Ye Olde Queen Vic” pub signs flashed before me. The apartment was basic but expected. That didn’t stop Brian from moaning. He couldn’t wait to hit the notorious Yumbo Centre in search of his first conquest. The only upside? It was a five-minute walk, saving us taxi fares.

Determined to make the best of it, we set out. En route, we saw a fight—and a man get stabbed. Charming.


The Yumbo Centre—a giant shopping mall by day, gay Mecca by night—was surreal. You’d hope to be inspired by loving couples.

“We’ve been together for 29 years and we’re totally faithful,” said a pair from Blackpool.

“Gosh, I hope I can say that one day,” I replied. “Although… why is your hand on my bottom?”

“Oh, we share people.” So much for romance.

The drinks were cheap, the sun was shining, and I told myself everything would be fine—if I made it back to the apartment alive.

Act Two, Scene One

Blake finally arrived, fresh from flying British Airways business class—and made sure everyone knew it. Still drunk, he boasted: “Darling, I had gear with me and did a line with the steward in the galley.” Pure fiction, but the crowd laughed.

Blake, who had travelled with me many times, was always a walking contradiction. With his Freddie Mercury moustache, even a blind dog could tell he was gay. Yet he’d hide his Spartacus Guide under a Jackie Collins novel and insist on getting out of cabs a few streets away from gay bars.

Now he and Brian were lounging like extras from Dynasty, wrapped in white towels and robes, trashing the accommodation. “Steven, we’re not complaining but… what were you thinking?” said Blake, dramatically.

I found them a new place—one that suited their tastes. They weren’t thrilled. Now half-naked and on their fourth glass of bubbly, Blake puffed on another menthol and quipped, “I’m sure I’ll grow fond of the pet cockroach in my room.”

Then he hugged me. “Darling, we want to be with you. That’s why we came.”

Thankfully, my ex and his partner arrived, bringing some much-needed sanity. I hired a car and explored Gran Canaria properly. The island is beautiful—surprisingly so. Even the Yumbo grew on me. As long as I left before Alexis and Krystal stirred from their beauty sleep, I could enjoy peaceful days and return for cocktails and Blake’s nightly one-man show.

Did I mention I met my dream guy there, too?

The Police Officer’s Boyfriend

He wasn’t single—his partner was head of LGBTQ+ liaison for the police. “We share,” he said. “Are you up for it?”

“You’re kidding! If he were mine, no one would be touching him but me.”

I may have added, “Shame on you. You’re supposed to set an example.”

No judgment—so long as it’s consensual and no one is exploited—it’s just not my bag.

We saw each other a few times back home. But what goes around comes around. He stayed with his partner.

Was it bad friend choices? Or just me, dreaming of a jolly gay Christmas and failing to plan the logistics?

Holiday Rules and Snorers

There are so many stories. Like the time I woke to a stranger in bed with me and my best friend. Or when someone “forgot” their stage name didn’t match their passport.

Then there’s Adam.

Ours was a mature friendship. We talked things through. A year in, he asked, “Fancy a holiday?”

Alarm bells. Holidays can make or break a friendship. But I liked Adam, and when he suggested a cruise down the Nile from Luxor, I was sold.

Adam warned me he snored—and wow, did he. I recorded it (he wasn’t thrilled), but it prompted him to finally address the issue. Snoring can ruin holidays; one of my friends recently had to sleep by the pool just to escape her partner’s decibels.

Egypt. Wow.

The Nile cruise was magical. A shaky start (our airport transfer never arrived), but even dashing through dark backstreets in a cab to find our boat, we laughed all the way.

Sitting in the Winter Palace Hotel in Luxor—home of Agatha Christie’s Death on the Nile—Adam asked, “Shall we go see the sights?”

“Let’s just do Glamour’s Five-Star Hotel of the Nile for now,” I said.

We howled.

We discussed finances before the trip—essential. “It all comes out in the wash” was our motto. Sometimes one of us was more flush, and we’d cover each other. No awkwardness.

We all know the tightwad friend: the one who orders a starter and tap water, then helps themselves to the shared wine. But when it’s their round? Crickets.

Salmonella and Sensibility

Adam and I had many great adventures. He was the perfect pseudo-boyfriend. But eventually, someone else would come along. In Sitges, that’s exactly what happened.

We never planned for it—mistake. Sitting alone at dinner while he held hands with someone else wasn’t fun. We should’ve talked it through, as we usually did. Thankfully, it didn’t harm our friendship.

I can be a walking holiday disaster. Mosquitoes treat me like a buffet. I’ve caught Hepatitis B in India and salmonella in the Dominican Republic. But it never puts me off.

Because travel is freedom. And when shared with the right friend, it’s unforgettable. No matter how grown-up we are, caring for one another never goes out of fashion.

Have a great holiday season.

My Top 6 Tips for Travelling With a Friend:

  1. Talk first. Discuss your expectations for the trip.
  2. Be honest. Are you going for fun—or just to split costs?
  3. Acknowledge your quirks. Any snoring, early riser habits, etc.
  4. Talk about money. Set clear agreements in advance.
  5. Respect personal space. Holidaying together doesn’t mean joined at the hip.
  6. Look after each other. The best travel souvenir is a stronger friendship.
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Steven’s Viewz How to Give a Bad or Good Dinner Party

it is not always the food that makes a perfect dinner party

Steven’s Viewz
How to Give a Bad Dinner Party

In the ’70s and ’80s, dinner parties were a regular thing. With shows like Come Dine with Me and the rising costs of eating out, dinner parties are making a huge comeback. Though some still entertain at venues such as restaurants, there’s nothing more intimate and fun than having a group of friends—or interesting people—over to your home for a private dinner party. But as much as a good host can make it a terrific night to remember, the wrong recipe for an evening can lead to a dinner party your guests will talk about for weeks—for all the wrong reasons.

When you’re hosting for wine connoisseurs or food gourmets, the conversation may revolve around cuisine and drink. But believe it or not, the best dinner parties don’t always centre on either. Of course, putting on a good show that doesn’t have you locked away in the kitchen all night is still a good idea.

In fact, one of the most amusing dinner parties I attended began with a call from a hostess who, not being known for her culinary skills and usually opting to dine out, invited me over to see her new kitchen. The day after the invite, she phoned:
“Darling, would you do your marvellous chicken fajitas on Friday?”
Asking was she planning a potluck (when everyone brings a course), Fajitas , don’t travel well. There was a pause before she added, “Oh, I thought you could cook?”
I replied, “No, it’s your turn,” and hung up!

Not my chicken fajitas , Mine look better .

I arrived at her stunning Hampstead home on the Friday. The table was beautifully set, and the new oven was lit—I was suitably impressed. The hostess had that pleased-with-herself look written all over her face; in fairness, this wasn’t her forte. Wine flowed, and nibbles were served, but an hour and a half later, no food had appeared. Looking at the oven, the chicken was still as raw as it had been on the Waitrose shelf.
“My love, is the oven actually working?” I gently enquired.

An hour later, we were still no further along. The hostess declared the new oven faulty and called for Chinese. We laughed and put the world to rights until two-thirty in the morning—it was just an amazing night.

It was topped off by a call on Tuesday: the repairman said the oven wasn’t broken—she’d simply forgotten to turn it on. I couldn’t help but ask when she was auditioning for Come Dine with Me. how she was going to cook ?
She replied, “Darling, you’re coming over and doing it for me!”

However, for your standard dinner party—especially if you’re not ordering in—don’t cook something that keeps you in the kitchen half the night or that hasn’t been tried and tested. Your guests have come to see you, not watch you stress. Pre-cooking as much as possible is always wise.

Also, always check what your guests eat. At one dinner I attended, they served an enormous piece of goat’s cheese as a starter. Honestly, I’d rather suck someone’s feet than eat that. I used the trick of eating without chewing, washing it down with water. Every time I looked at the plate, it seemed no smaller. Eventually, the host noticed, and I had to admit defeat. They looked less than impressed.

It’s smart to have eggs or a vegan option on standby—just in case a guest hasn’t disclosed their dietary needs.

What really makes a dinner party memorable is the company. Years ago, a socialite who was an expert at entertaining shared some tips with me. Never bring the same type of people together. Lady X would be far more intrigued sitting next to an up-and-coming artist than another socialite. Invite those who can sing for their supper—interesting, amusing guests who can tell a good story or keep up with the latest in books, style, or theatre.

Dinner or lunch party’s can be great but think it out first .

Bring five actors together (unless they’re in the same production) and you risk them trying to outdo each other.

Being a good host is more than just checking glasses and topping up wine. It’s about ensuring your guests are enjoying themselves and actually get to speak. We’ve all been to that dinner where the narcissist dominates the conversation—and even when they pause, they jump back in to reclaim the spotlight. As host, it’s your role to steer the conversation so quieter guests also get a chance. Ask about books, films, theatre—whatever might draw them out.

And please, don’t try to be controversial. Sure, a lively debate can be great—if you know your guests well—but don’t go looking for drama. It could end your night on a sour note.

Avoid topics like age, weight, salaries, and politics. One evening, a guest at a dinner I hosted turned to another and said, “You know, when we get to our age it all needs a little lift—but I love my forties.”
The guest was livid: “I’m 32!” she cried, getting up and leaving the table.

Let the conversation flow. Unless you’re lucky enough to have a Stephen Fry at your table, make sure everyone has a voice. And never, ever be the Machiavellian host who opens the night with, “So, who voted for Brexit?!”

Do not be that machiavellian host and try and spark controversy .

One of the worst dinner parties I’ve attended had all the wrong ingredients. We were eating out, so the food was decent—for some. There were quite a few of us, and things started badly: someone I love had reprimanded another guest for being late, which was rich coming from them. Pot, kettle, black, I thought. They’ve never been on time in their life. When I pointed that out, offence was taken—and they were still seething as we arrived.

Our host, Mark—though lovely and amusing—wanted to talk about one topic: a certain lady we’ll call Alice. He and Alice were once close, but no longer, which made her a target. Now, I love gossip as much as the next person, but I prefer it light, witty, and name-free. I’m known for knowing the gossip—but those who know me also know I rarely name names. I’m educated enough to entertain without tearing someone down.

But this monologue about Alice’s every fault dragged on and on. It felt like the only thing missing was Alice’s corpse—she was being verbally hacked to pieces. One hour later, Mark was still talking about Alice, with brief interruptions for “Let’s get another round in,” and one guest returning their starter three times. Some guests had begun looking at their phones. One even mouthed “Come sit with me!”

I suggested that, since we’d established Alice was a c—, perhaps we could move on.
That was met with, “Mark is talking—sssh!”

I would have left, but I was staying with one of the guests. Just when I thought the evening couldn’t get worse, a very late guest arrived—the cuckoo, who had seemingly replaced Alice in Mark’s affections. She briefly talked about another of my least favourite subjects—dieting—before the topic swerved straight back to Alice, in which the cuckoo revelled.

The toxic energy was palpable. Our host, smart as he was, was no Oscar Wilde, and only seemed aware of his own voice. Thank God I smoke—those breaks saved me. I even got a text from another guest: “Help!” They were bored stiff.

The cherry on top? Mark wasn’t even hosting. We were all going Dutch. After over two hours of his monologue, one of the guests even drove home drunk.

Here’s my final tip: If you’re hosting drinkers, be responsible. Make sure they have somewhere to stay, book a cab, or use a company that will drive their car home for them. As you pour that last tequila shot, you do not want to hear that someone was in an accident on the way home.

Happy dining,
Steven