2Shades is delighted to announce the National Union of Professional Foster Cares as a sponsor of The Autism Hero Awards .
2Shades is delighted to announce the National Union of Professional Foster Carers (NUPFC) as a sponsor of this year’s Autism Hero Awards, supporting the Parent / Carer of the Year category.
The NUPFC is the only government-certified trade union in the UK dedicated exclusively to supporting foster carers, kinship carers, special guardians, and adopters. Its mission is clear: to ensure carers are informed, protected, and properly supported as they provide care for some of the most vulnerable children in society.
What sets the NUPFC apart is its depth of lived experience. Its specialist caseworkers — available 365 days a year — include current and former foster carers alongside retired social workers. This hands-on understanding allows the organisation to offer practical, empathetic guidance rooted in real-world challenges. A strong legal team further ensures members are never left navigating complex systems alone.
Caring for children who have experienced emotional harm or additional challenges can be demanding and emotionally complex. The NUPFC works closely with professionals around each child, helping to ensure carers — and in turn, the children themselves — receive the support, advocacy, and understanding they deserve.
Many children within the care system are autistic, while many others remain undiagnosed. The NUPFC actively promotes early diagnosis, recognising that timely understanding can make a profound difference to a child’s wellbeing, access to support, and long-term outcomes.
By sponsoring the Parent / Carer of the Year category at the Autism Hero Awards, the NUPFC is shining a light on the resilience, commitment, and quiet heroism of carers. This partnership not only celebrates individual achievement but also raises wider awareness of autism and caring within professional circles and among key decision-makers.
Robin Findlay, Founder and General Secretary of the National Union of Professional Foster Carers, said:
“Anna Kennedy’s tireless campaigning continues to raise awareness of the many strengths, talents, and contributions that autistic people bring to our communities. We are proud to support the Autism Hero Awards and to stand alongside Anna Kennedy Online in encouraging autistic people, and their parents and carers, to seek support when needed, build confidence, and achieve great things.”
Anna Kennedy OBE added:
“We are absolutely delighted to welcome the National Union of Professional Foster Carers as sponsors of the Autism Hero Awards. Their commitment to carers and families aligns closely with our values, and we look forward to working together to celebrate autistic individuals and recognise the dedication of those who support them every day.”
The Eleventh Hour Group is proud to sponsor the Young Person of the Year category at the Autism Hero Awards.
Known for its people-first approach, the Eleventh Hour Group is built on professionalism, integrity, and long-term partnerships within healthcare. Working closely with NHS Trusts, private providers, and local authorities, the organisation supports vital services by ensuring the right people are in the right place at the right time — always with care and respect at the heart of what they do.
That ethos extends beyond healthcare delivery into meaningful community engagement. This year, the Eleventh Hour Group is honoured to sponsor the Young Person of the Year category at the Autism Hero Awards, an event that celebrates achievement, advocacy, and lived experience across the autism community.
Anna Kennedy on line patron Vicki Michelle presents an award along with Dr Anna Kennedy OBE at the Autism Hero Awards .
Speaking about the sponsorship, Aaliyah McGuire, Director of Complex Care at the Eleventh Hour Group, said:
“EHG is proud to be supporting the Autism Hero Awards and sponsoring the Young Person of the Year category. Anna Kennedy Online’s work has a profound impact on the lives of autistic individuals, and their values align closely with ours. It’s a privilege to support such an important celebration of young people and their achievements.”
Hosted by Anna Kennedy Online, the Autism Hero Awards recognise individuals and organisations making a genuine difference. The Young Person of the Year category is a particularly powerful moment of the evening, shining a spotlight on young autistic individuals whose resilience, creativity, and voices deserve national recognition.
The awards ceremony will take place on 9 May at the Holiday Inn, Regent’s Park, bringing together families, professionals, advocates, and supporters to celebrate progress, inclusion, and positive change.
Dr Anna Kennedy OBE has long been a leading voice in autism advocacy. Through her tireless work with Anna Kennedy Online, and events such as the Autism Hero Awards, she continues to champion understanding, inclusion, and opportunity for autistic individuals and their families.
Dr Anna Kennedy OBE said:
“I am absolutely thrilled to have a company like the Eleventh Hour Group join us. With their strong background in healthcare, it is incredibly exciting to welcome them into the Anna Kennedy Online family. Their support truly reflects a shared commitment to people, care, and inclusion.”
By supporting the Young Person of the Year category, the Eleventh Hour Group reinforces its belief that true impact comes from valuing people, recognising potential, and investing in the next generation.
I want to make one thing 120 per cent clear: I am absolutely in favour of physical self-improvement and anything that helps us feel good about ourselves, including anti-ageing treatments. After all, if your house starts to crumble or needs a repair, most of us don’t think twice about getting a tradesperson in to fix it. We patch, we paint, we renovate. So why should our faces, bodies, or confidence be treated any differently?
Fill your boots. Have the facial. Get the Botox. Try whatever makes you feel better when you look in the mirror. Confidence is attractive, and feeling good in your own skin can be genuinely life-enhancing. But—and this is the crucial bit—we also need to be careful. There’s a line where self-care quietly slips into obsession, and sometimes it isn’t your gorgeous face that needs work at all, but your mental health.
Age, after all, is just a number. Reaching 60 is not guaranteed. If you’re lucky enough to get there, rejoice—many don’t. Yet we live in a culture obsessed with youth, where growing older is treated as something faintly shameful rather than something earned. I constantly hear phrases like “age-appropriate dress” or “age-appropriate behaviour,” usually delivered with a raised eyebrow and a side-order of judgement.
Let’s be honest. If gravity has taken a firm grip and décolletage is mapped with red veins, tiny shorts and a boob tube probably won’t make you look younger—it’ll likely do the opposite. But equally, if you want to wear them, then shake it honey 🥾. Personal style should be about expression, not apology. Dressing “younger” doesn’t make you younger; dressing confidently makes you look alive.
What I genuinely struggle to understand is why so many people feel entitled to judge others for ageing gracefully. There’s a peculiar cruelty in sneering at someone who has chosen not to fight time with needles and fillers, as if dignity itself were an act of rebellion.
Take Rachel Ward, once heralded as one of the great beauties of the 1980s after her unforgettable role in The Thorn Birds. She could have spent decades trying to drag her face back to that era, chasing a frozen echo of her younger self. Instead, she chose something braver. She embraced her face in her sixties—lines, movement, expression intact—and looks refreshingly real. There’s no stiffness, no denial, just a face that tells a story. A face you want to know.
No frozen look here. Just confidence, character, and the quiet power of self-acceptance.
Perhaps that’s the real anti-ageing secret: not erasing who we’ve been, but owning who we are.
Re: The Beckhams
From “harmless mum dancing” to accusations of being overly controlling, the Beckhams have once again found themselves dominating headlines—at a time when the world is facing far graver realities. Bodies lie in the streets of Iran, conflicts rage across multiple countries, and yet we are invited to clutch our pearls over a family wobble involving a pop star, a dance floor, and a grown man with opinions.
Brooklyn Beckham, we’re told, had a tough childhood. Listen, pal—we all had to listen to your mum sing. Perspective is a wonderful thing.
But let’s be honest: no one truly knows what goes on behind those carefully curated, smiling family photographs. Families are complicated. Fame magnifies everything, distorts nuance, and turns private disagreements into public sport. Judging any family—famous or not—based on fragments and hearsay is a fool’s errand, and none of us are in possession of the full story.
What did give me pause, however, was DJ Fat Tony choosing to speak out. It was a paid gig. He was hired, did the job, and that should have been the end of it. Unless subpoenaed or dragged into court, discretion would have been the wiser—and classier—option. Airing opinions after the fact feels less like honesty and more like self-publicity. A whiff of Paul Burrell, if you will.
As for the rest of it, let’s calm down. If Victoria Beckham wants to dance in a way deemed “inappropriate” by the commentariat, someone could have gently steered her off the floor. It was hardly the crime of the century.
If anything, the whole saga has had the unintended consequence of resurrecting Victoria’s singing career—long thought buried—rising again like a bad smell. Some things, it seems, never stay dead.
Here’s hoping The Beckhams do what most families eventually manage: talk, regroup, and move on—preferably without the rest of us pretending it’s global news. However if mum or dad is nightmare I urge anyone to put boundaries down asap as it only gets worse .
I have a very soft spot for Winnie-the-Pooh. My former partner of twenty years used to call me Tigger, after the ever-bouncy tiger, and over the years he sent me affectionate cards featuring Pooh and friends. One of the last films we saw together was Winnie-the-Pooh, and we loved it—gentle, comforting, and quietly profound.
Pooh and his friends beautifully emulate life itself. Eeyore carries his depression with weary honesty; Tigger bounces through the world with unstoppable enthusiasm; Piglet worries; Owl pontificates; and Pooh simply is. There’s something deeply enchanting about a group of characters who mirror our own emotional landscapes so tenderly, without judgement or pretence.
Created by A. A. Milne, Pooh gives us permission to slow down. In a world increasingly obsessed with productivity, achievement, and noise, the bear of very little brain reminds us that gentleness is a strength. He values friendship over status, kindness over cleverness, and a good walk in the woods over almost everything else—except, perhaps, honey.
For many of us, Pooh arrives early in life, read aloud at bedtime, his world drawn in soft, timeless lines by E. H. Shepard. But he grows with us. As adults, we return to the Hundred Acre Wood and discover unexpected wisdom in its simplicity: that it’s all right not to have the answers, that listening matters, and that being present is often enough.
Pooh’s importance lies in his humanity. He reassures us that you don’t need to be extraordinary to be loved, and that friendship—steady, imperfect, and loyal—is what truly carries us through life.
One hundred years on, Winnie-the-Pooh still whispers the same gentle truth: sometimes the smallest things take up the most room in your heart. 🍯💛
Other people’s issues. Martin and I had a beautiful relationship but there was always someone who had an issue with it . It may seem strange to start my story at the end of someone’s life to tell their tale. The remarkable Mr Annand was no ordinary man, so his journey should be told just as the curtain is about to fall on his extraordinary life, an existence that for most parts was never quite what it seemed to so many.
Mr Annand, or as we called him, Martin, looked up at me from the brown mobility chair, which he had become confined to during the day over the last few weeks of his life, his beautiful big blue eyes still reminding me of Jiminy Cricket from Pinocchio. Still full of hope, he smiled at me, pulled gently on my shirt and asked me to go and get a nice French bread stick – warm if possible – and some soup. He had been off his food for the last few days so it was a relief to hear him want something.
There was only one problem. We needed to hide the bread from Nicos, Martin’s Greek Cypriot trust fund civil partner, as gluten and bread were taboo in the soulless flat that they shared in trendy Bloomsbury. Though the wood and lighting were incredible, it resembled an art gallery with uncomfortable furniture. Nicos ruled the roost in this place and would become hysterical and cruel when not getting his own way. Even traditional cooking was banned for fear that it would cause damage to any of the many art works.
A splash of water, not wiped up from the sink tap, could cause a rage so powerful you would have thought you had flooded the flat.
Nicos had allowed me to take joint care of Martin with great reluctance; only after he had worked out the actual cost of private nurses did he reluctantly give in. At first it was only to be when Nicos was at cross fit for three hours a day, or when he had his own hospital appointments. However, the workload was constant and eventually I stayed there 24 hours a day, and for this I was grateful Nicos allowed me to do so as it was so painful not to be with Martin
It seemed odd to me: Nicos’ art collection in the UK and Cyprus had a value in the millions so if he had sold just one piece, it could have funded 24-hour private care. Martin always said that, despite Nicos’ wealth given to him by his father, he was incredibly tight.
Nicos had just left for a workout and was meeting a friend after. Dashing up Tottenham Court Road to M&S, I returned quickly with some of Martin’s favourite fruit jellies, two small warm bread flutes and heart-warming chicken noodle soup. Frantically I cut the bread up into small slices and buttered them cleaning up after myself for fear that crumbs would be found.
Martin Annand and Pam Sharrock and me in the South of France
The soup was being cooked in the microwave that was hidden so high up, cooking anything in it was a challenge. Even the kettle was in a cupboard to stop steam hitting any artwork that adorned the kitchen walls. Martin smiled as I brought it to him, “I am getting my appetite back”, he said, with some hope. Pointing out it was a good sign, I gave him a wink
. The man I had loved for forty years was dying and I was determined to keep my emotions in check and just be his rock. If I ever allowed the flood gates to open and show how I was feeling, my fear was that the tears would never stop, and that was the last thing he needed. Martin had a beautiful childlike quality that most people never got to see. He gave me a paw as I put the food down.
Of course, he only managed a little bread and some soup. Just as he was about to get me to take it away the door opened. Nicos was there. “All right my love, what’s that you have got there?” he enquired, with his eyes throwing daggers of steel towards me. Explaining that he really wanted a bread roll and some soup, strangely Nicos did not react, although I made a hasty retreat to the kitchen to discard the evidence out into the bin in the communal areas of the block.
There was only one flute of bread left by the side of the sink that was left to hide. Nicos had not gone to shower as he usually did on return from the gym and he was in the kitchen. To my amazement, he was cutting the spare French bread flute in to slices and covered them in strawberry Jam and organic Honey. Instinct told me to get out of the way to see Martin, and a wise decision it was.
Ten minutes later Nicos came charging down the wooden plank floors of the corridor towards the bathroom slamming the door. He spent twenty minutes in there inducing himself to vomit. Eventually he came out and marched up to Martin, shoving his hands that stunk of sick up into Martin’s pale face. “Look what you made me do bring that into our home!”
There was nothing I could do to stop Nicos. My heart often went out to him as he was so uncomfortable in his own body, I can only imagine what it must be like to wake up every day so unhappy in life. I do not think that I had ever seen him do a full day’s work in the twenty years I knew him. Martin wrote his correspondence for him, Nicos went for the odd meeting in Cyprus but for the most part, he went to the gym, shopped, attended gallery openings, and holidayed abroad a lot. What he devoted a lot of time to was sitting in judgement of other’s efforts, which he did with great ease. He really was the quintessential trust fund baby.
Though Nicos’ and my relationship made Joan’s and Bette’s look like an easy one, he always had the upper hand. At first I had liked him as he was amusing, witty and we shared many of the same interests. He clearly had huge mental health issues, so to take him on was a fruitless task and only caused issues with me seeing my ex-partner, Martin.
Over the years my radar went into no comment regarding his hatred of me, even during the campaign of daily phone text’s calling me every name you could imagine. Once he caught me off guard with the malicious comment, “No wonder your boyfriend killed himself and the latest is missing!” That text was a step too far and I threatened to call the police, although for the sake of Martin, we did eventually make up
. There was always someone who had an issue with my relationship with Martin. Nico’s just could not cope with the fact that Martin still loved me and him in different ways. It was not long before Nicos was in the kitchen and you could just tell he was looking for a fight. He was opening and closing drawers for no reasons when suddenly he spied a small amount of water that had escaped me whilst cleaning, next to the marble sink. That was it, he hit the roof. “YOU RESPECT THE QUALITY OF NOTHING!” he bellowed behind me as I made my excuses to Martin and decided to spend one night at my home let Nicos calm down. When an apologetic text from Nicos did come through, I told him all was fine.
Returning the next day at 6:30 I found there were two patients in bed: Nicos had piles and might need to go the hospital, possibly for four days. Nicos had fired four of the helpers the NHS had sent us. Looking after Martin really needed two, but the idea of spending some time with him was a relief to me. In the end Nicos just went to a specialist. Looking after Martin was not the hard part, though it was breaking my heart every day. Dealing with Nico’s, who was devious and underhand, was horrendous. He seemed obsessed with my every move.
However if you think he sounded bad, nothing could prepare you for his sidekick we will call “The Cousin”. A woman as equally uncomfortable in her own skin as Nicos, Martin had only known her for five years. On the face of it she seemed nice, with an air of the teacher about her. Nicos had decided that she was Martin’s replacement sister, as the relationship with his own sister Pen had become strained over the years due to her dominating girlfriend. Martin ‘just loved her’, Nicos would inform me with some command. Martin, though fond of her, did not see her that way.
She was a walking nightmare and expert on everything to do with cancer. My first hint that she needed to be stopped was when Martin called me telling she was trying to roll a tennis ball up and down his spine. Luckily, I got there in time to challenge her and that went down like a lead balloon.
The cousin had a habit of putting her hand up like she was teaching at school. I did not want Martin doing those exercise she was trying to make him do and reiterated that he had spinal cancer so his specialist would need to approve any exercise. If she was teaching or instructing, she was fine. Nicos went away for two weeks and left me with Martin. The Cousin started coming over bringing lots of sugary desserts, all well-meaning but not good for cancer and definitely not to Martin’s taste. It seemed well meaning so Martin would smile and say, “Save for later, yummy!” I would chuck them in the bin as soon as she left.
The first time she came over was to give me an hour off. Martin asked me to call and cancel her, he would be fine, but I felt it would be rude to do so, and if she did come, it would pacify Nicos and assure him that everything was ok. Politely, I thanked her for coming. “I was coming whether you wanted it or not”, she replied, with the coldness of a witch at midnight. “Nicos and I have a plan for Martin, so don’t you worry yourself”, she went on. People must have wondered why I did not tell her to go F— herself. Instead, I hid the various things she brought to roll on Martin. The last thing Martin needed was her exercises that still needed to be approved by a professional.
We nearly had words when she waltzed in all sweetness and light with more desserts. With her empathetic face she asked, “Anything I can do to help?” For once I was happy to oblige, asking if she minded making Martin’s bed. Her face fell as what she really had meant was if there was anything she could teach or instruct. Her face perked up as she replied, “I will teach you how to do it.” Of course, I declined.
There was zero empathy from Nicos when I explained Martin was not as keen on her visits as he thought. But more important please could he supervise her teaching exercises as she had zero experience. Having breast cancer did not make you an expert on all cancers. Nicos hollered, “She is like a sister to him!” Nicos had ostracised most of Martin’s close friends and substituted them with ones he approved of over the years they were together.
We were told by the nurse visiting Martin that under NO circumstances should he make any financial, work related or personal decisions at this stage. It became incredibly difficult to handle the Cousin and Nicos, as no matter what I suggested, it was wrong. Dr Prakash who had helped Martin with his injections and treated him privately for free was branded an idiot, whereas the cousin, who really needed locking up, was always right whatever she said.
To this day it is my belief that she helped speed the cancer up. I grieved for Martin deeply. When one considers grief, it is foremost for the person you have lost. You could not begin to comprehend how grief magnifies when also confronted with two such devious, plotting malcontents, whose subsequent aim was to erase me from Martin’s eulogy along with any memories we shared. But I’m getting ahead of myself.
Apart from a lunch with my dear friend Marieanne, I had been there with Martin for twenty four hours. However I had a doctor’s appointment that I could not miss, but the whole thing would take only four hours tops. Warning signs should have flagged in my brain as the pair seemed unusually enthusiastic about this and confirmed several times that I was still going. Despite the warning given by the professionals, whilst I was out they got the lawyers in and established power of attorney.
Worse still, in his weakened state, Martin signed standing orders to pay monthly into the joint bank account in the Isle of Man the sum of £10,000 from Princess Salimah Aga Khan’s bank account. When I returned, Nico’s was quick to tell me he had power of attorney and only he had the right to deal with things. But again he allowed me to stay. I only found out about the Princess Salimah standing order when she noticed it. It honestly finished Martin off, he was SO distressed. How could this ever have been allowed? Simple Greed on one person’s part. Salimah was distraught though she did attend the funeral by zoom.
My beautiful Martin Annand died in St Johns hospice on the 9th of August surrounded by his civil partner Nicos and myself, his lover and friend of forty years. I was wiping his mouth with a moist tiny sponge. He was ice cold, and I knew it was the end. He made a noise then went, Nicos screamed and ran to the door, missing the fact Martin had taken one more breath, and then the beautiful angel left us for good.
Martin and I had been of the same mind; if we took ill, we would go to Switzerland and end it with dignity. In hindsight it was easier said than done. Whilst Nicos was in Greece, Martin had all the details. He had gone on business to Geneva working with Salimah Aga Khan and had everything planned, it was just down to me to take him. He was having a bad day and was booking flights. Martin’s chemo had been tremendous, although his hair had stayed, and we were full of hope.
He would shower at night trying to ease the agonising pain, but he refused to take the morphine for fear of being hooked. The doctors said it was all down to the side effects of the radiation treatment. Believing them I begged him just to give it two more weeks, then we would go and Nicos would never need to know. But they were wrong, and the cancer had spread. I would not let a dog suffer the indignity my beautiful Martin went through. My deep regret is not saying yes and flying him down to Switzerland when he wanted to go. There was no time for me to grieve at the bedside
. Nicos was hysterical and threw himself on Martin’s body. It was the opposite of what Martin stood for. It was not long though before Nicos became aware of my obvious grief. “I am his civil partner and have rights!” he shrieked at the nurse. Not for one minute did I challenge that, even though Martin was in fact still legally married to an American and she never divorced him. For five minutes I excused myself and went to the bathroom, locked the door and broke down.
This was not what Martin would have wanted, so I stood up and went to aid Nicos. He was actually kind to me, thanked me, and he was full of questions. Martin would have wanted me to look after him and, as much as he would let me, I did. It did not take long for him to hit the phone. He asked The Cousin to meet him at the house.
He called Phillipa, a long-term friend in Cyprus that Martin and I both liked, and was furious that she could not come straight away. He turned to his old friend Tee, who was also in Cyprus. The pair had fallen out for years, but a mutual ailment had brought them back together, and that Tee did not like me was a huge bonus. He was flying over the next day. I offered to stay, but it was refused. Accompanying Nicos back home, I came up to make some tea.
It was not long before the cousin arrived, she was of course kind. To my horror they jumped into funeral arrangements. Worse still, “Has anyone told Danielle. Martin was very fond of her?” was the next question. They both knew that I had fallen out with Danielle as she had taken great advantage of Martin. He had paid for her partner to be flown from Cyprus as a medical emergency. He had set up a bank account up for her and had been paying the price. I saw her as a user although Martin said “She’s great at parties”. If I was throwing a party, number one on the guest list would certainly not have been Danielle. I realised that I was on a hiding to nothing and left the pair to it.
Though I had helped Nicos as much as I could, The Cousin quickly jumped in and took over; my little eulogy was judged too much about me by the pair and not used. The actual funeral had to be seen to be believed and if Martin had not been cremated he would have rolled in his grave. In fairness I was in the funeral procession car. Arriving at their home, Nicos was not there.
I was outside as the coffin pulled up and Nicos jumped from the car wearing ripped jeans, flanked by Tee and another friend, who both seemed to be dressed like crows. He fell onto the ground of the apartment steps, wailing, “My Martin is here!” calling up to Phillipa. Ironically it looked like a scene from Tosca, a favourite opera of Martin and I. Nicos saw me then and I thought he was coming to hug me, but instead all the drama was over. “You get in the second car”. It was a shape of things to come for the day. I was only allowed a few people as mourners. Nicos did not realise that Martin still had had a life with me and he saw people like Denise Welch and others when Nicos was not around. Still, I was not going to argue and held my head with dignity. Just as I was about to enter the crematorium at Golders Green on a beautiful sunny day, Nico’s whispered to me, “I am afraid I have been a bit selfish with the eulogy.”
Looking back at him, I replied I would not expect anything else. Nicos outdid himself with the downright pack of lies contained in the eulogy. Yes, there were moments of truth but it was hard for me to comprehend what was being read out. If there was any doubt that this was not a bad dream, the beautiful friends I shared with Martin, who were there to support me, gasped in places. Darling Marieanne, a long-term friend of Martin’s and my best pal at the time, squeezed my arm each time something was read out that made Nicos sound a hero and omitted my name completely. We were instructed not to look at Nicos as we left, but he should not have worried as there was absolutely no danger of that.
Walking through the crematorium doors into the beautiful memorial gardens, my numbness started to thaw out as one of my oldest friends exclaimed, “What the fuck was that?” Nicos had had the nerve to ring my kid sister in the US and ask her to watch. It was not long before she was on the phone to find out if I was ok. “Why did he say those things?!” She knew how humiliated I must have felt and said how restrained I had been. If she had been there in person with a baseball bat…
Do not think the thought had not passed my mind. However, holding my head high was what Martin would have wanted, not some ugly drama. His eulogy was heard by 42 people. A week later I released mine on the net and it has been seen by over 4000,000 people. Many of Martin’s family and friends asked why it had not been used. It is below. My hope is to hold a proper ceremony on the anniversary of Martin’s death.
The wonder that was Martin Annand A beautiful light has left the world. But I just know he is sparkling above us full of love. Martin Annand passed away at St John’s hospice London at 12.15 on the 9th of August 2021, with Mozart piano concerto 15 playing, and his civil partner Nicos Steratzias and his former partner Steven Smith lovingly by his side. https://www.stjohnshospice.org.uk/about/
Christopher Robin said to Winne the Pooh: “You’re braver than you believe, stronger than you seem, and smarter than you think.” Martin Annand was the quintessential Christopher Robin and he loved his eclectic friends, no matter their flaws, and he embraced their strengths. He would often joke, “I think he is having an Eeyore moment”, if a friend was down or not seeing the positive about something. He would reference more of Christopher’s pals, saying, “You’re very Tigger-y today”, if one of us was particularly bouncy, and even though Martin enjoyed a healthy lifestyle, he also empathised with Pooh, adoring a sneaky sweet or two. Martin was a true English gentleman, whose style and grace made him so wonderfully unique
. People just adored him as he made every person feel important, taking an interest in everyone he met. From classic cars to a hand of bridge, the latest song by the Pet Shop Boys, or even a glance at what Robbie Williams was wearing; Martin could talk about it all. He just loved everything in life. I would often laugh to myself when people thought Martin was “serious” and “a little unapproachable”
Martin with Ian Phillips Samantha Phillips and Emma Noble and me
. He was one of the funniest people I have ever met, bringing the phrase “Don’t judge the book by its cover” to mind. Martin’s inner child beamed out to those who knew him and took the time to see the beautiful man for who he really was. When I first met him, he told me a story that could only happen to Martin. He said, “I went to a dinner party last night. When I got there, the house was awfully dark. When I pressed the doorbell, the hostess answered in her night attire. “Oh, has the dinner been cancelled?” I enquired. “It was last week”, the hostess answered, wide mouthed. “And what is more, you came to it!”
Martin had the ability to laugh at himself. He was funny, sometimes forgetful and, what is a rare quality these days, loyal. Whenever you saw him, he opened his wide blue eyes and smiled, and he made you believe you could do whatever you wanted to do. He was fortunate enough to have danced with Princess Margaret, but always said he enjoyed dancing at his friend Denise Welch’s ball, with a group of bright young things, more than with Her Royal Highness. Martin just loved the dance of life and he threw himself into everything – whether it was captaining a boat or dancing the Conga in Rio de Janeiro.
Or partying in St. Tropez for his friend Pam Sharrock’s 60th. I recall him skiing down a black run in Klosters Ski Resort with such ease, leaving the soon-to-be-famous Denise Welch and myself way behind. Of course, Martin being Martin, he was straight back up the slope to come to the aid of his friends. There is so much to write on The Exceptional Mr Annand that it could fill two volumes. If there is a Heaven, he will be up there playing bridge and chatting to his friends who journeyed there before him. If he is looking down, all he would want for us is love, success and happiness, as Martin embodied in everything he did in life. But please continue reading as this is a story of one of the most glamorous, quintessential gentlemen, whose story will make you laugh, gasp and cry. He was the accountant for some of the world’s wealthiest and most famous people despite never training as an accountant. The man that could make you feel like you could fly…
Well, I have just witnessed a man stand up and speak who could best be described as the prodigious love child of Keith Richards and Ricky Gervais—conceived, perhaps, through the mischievous spirit of Janet Street-Porter. Hilarious. Sharp. Fearless. Unapologetically himself.
And yet, despite appearances, I was not tucked away in a comedy club. Instead, Anna Kennedy OBE and I had ventured somewhere altogether different, joining Pier Space Speakers Corner London for one of their celebrated lunches, held at the funky Balfour St Barts.
What struck me immediately was the atmosphere: a room buzzing with ideas, warmth, and possibility. This was not a classroom, nor a rigid corporate seminar. It was a gathering of diverse voices—entrepreneurs, creatives, leaders, advocates—coming together to share experiences across business, inspiration, leadership, and life itself. A place where stories mattered as much as strategies.
I am no stranger to speaking. I love radio and television, thrive in podcasts, relish a debate, and happily interview just about anyone. Give me a microphone and a subject and I’m entirely at home. But there is a lesser-known truth about me: when it comes to standing up and talking about myself, I freeze. I brick it, as we say. Confidence deserts me. Words scatter.
Yes, a couple of glasses of vino may occasionally loosen the tongue and—miraculously—result in a standing ovation. But that’s hardly a reliable strategy.
So when Anna suggested we both attend Speakers Corner London—not as performers, but as participants, learners, listeners—I jumped at the chance. And I am so glad I did.
Out and about with Anna Kennedy obe
This was the perfect antidote to fear: an environment that was supportive rather than judgemental, energising rather than intimidating. Not a “class” in the traditional sense, but something far more powerful—an inspirational space where you learn almost by osmosis, simply by being in the room with talented, generous people who genuinely want others to succeed.
Anna, of course, took to it like the Energiser Bunny discovering a microphone. Confident, articulate, and deeply authentic, she reminded everyone why her work in autism awareness and advocacy has made such a lasting impact. Watching her speak so naturally, so purposefully, was inspiring in itself.
The lunch marked a pretty epic kick-off to the 2026 events season, and it felt fantastic to be back among such a stellar group of speakers. The line-up read like a roll-call of insight and expertise: Paul Thomas, the “Sound of Success” specialist; Graham Norris, a future confidence guru; Phil Street FIH, hospitality podcaster extraordinaire; Gill Tiney, global collaboration champion and super-connector; Maria Pardo, marketing guru and Toastmasters president; Nic Marks, happiness author and statistician; Hulya Erbeyli PCC, an authentic leadership coach; Paul Cook, expert in change and transformation; and Trevor Folley, whose work on building cultures of trust resonated deeply.
A special mention must go to Yvette Jeal PCC, who opened the speaker spotlight slots for the year with a calm, confident and fascinating immersion into the neuroscience of peak performance. It was one of those talks that leaves you thinking differently—not just about leadership, but about how we show up every day. Felix Riley followed with a high-energy, often amusing and extremely useful set of ten tips for speakers, distilled from years of hard-won experience.
And then there was Zoie Golding MBE, sharing news of the Big Movement and its inspiring mission to get more men dancing for mental health—proof, if ever it were needed, that leadership comes in many forms, and impact is not confined to boardrooms.
By the end of the afternoon, I realised something important: this wasn’t just about learning how to speak better. It was about confidence, connection, and community. About giving people permission to find their voice—whatever that voice sounds like—and to use it with purpose.
So yes, Anna Kennedy OBE and I did venture out to do something different. And in doing so, I found myself quietly braver, unexpectedly inspired, and already looking forward to the next Speakers Corner London gathering in May.
Sometimes, the most powerful thing you can do is simply show up, sit among the experts, and allow yourself to learn.
As we step into 2026, I want to begin by thanking every single reader of 2Shades for your continued support, compassion, and commitment to inclusion. Each year brings its own challenges, but it also brings fresh opportunities to listen, to learn, and to act — and it is that collective spirit which continues to drive the work my husband Sean and I are so proud to be part of, with the help of an incredible team of unpaid volunteers at Anna Kennedy Online.
One of the highlights already firmly marked in my diary is the Autism Hero Awards, taking place on 9 May. These awards are incredibly close to my heart. They exist to celebrate the unsung heroes within the autism community — parents, carers, professionals, advocates, and autistic individuals themselves — whose dedication so often goes unnoticed. The Autism Hero Awards are not about red carpets or grand gestures; they are about recognition, visibility, and gratitude. They remind us that change is driven by people who show up every day, quietly and consistently, to make life better for others.
Creativity and self-expression will also take centre stage this year with the Autism and Art Show, opening in July at the FirePit Gallery. Art has always been a powerful vehicle for communication, particularly for autistic individuals who may find traditional forms of expression limiting. This exhibition is not only a celebration of artistic talent, but a statement: autistic voices deserve to be seen, valued, and taken seriously in cultural spaces. The Autism and Art Show continues to challenge outdated perceptions and offers audiences the chance to engage with autism through creativity rather than cliché.
February also brings an exciting and meaningful moment with the book launch by Samantha Lee Howe, taking place on 28 February, in aid of Anna Kennedy Online. Samantha’s work is deeply personal and profoundly resonant, and this launch is a wonderful example of how storytelling can build empathy while directly supporting autism advocacy. Events like this remind us that awareness and action must always go hand in hand. Samantha is also a judge at the Autism Hero Awards, which we are delighted about.
This year also marks the 15th anniversary of Autism’s Got Talent, a milestone that fills me with immense pride. Over the past fifteen years, Autism’s Got Talent has provided a platform for autistic people to shine on their own terms — celebrating ability, ambition, and individuality. It has been a joy to witness so many participants grow in confidence and self-belief, and to see audiences rethink what talent truly means.
Beyond events and milestones, ongoing conversation remains vital.
I am delighted to continue co-hosting my radio show on Gateway Radio, alongside Aston Avery. The programme gives us space to discuss disability, inclusion, mental health, and real-world challenges honestly and accessibly. Radio remains a powerful medium for reaching people who may feel isolated, unheard, or overlooked — and those conversations matter more than ever.
However, alongside hope and celebration, there are serious concerns that cannot be ignored. One of the most pressing is the future facing younger autistic people as they grow into adulthood — particularly what happens when parents or primary carers are no longer there. Too many families live with quiet fear about long-term support, independence, housing, and care. Systems are often fragmented, under-resourced, and slow to respond. As a society, we must do better at planning for lifelong autism support, not short-term solutions.
Sean and I remain committed to fighting for diversity, inclusion, and practical change. Advocacy does not end with awareness campaigns; it continues in policy discussions, education, employment, healthcare, and community support. We will continue to challenge inequality wherever we see it and to stand alongside those who feel marginalised or forgotten.
As we move forward into this new year, my hope is simple: that compassion leads action, that listening leads understanding, and that inclusion becomes the norm rather than the exception. Thank you for being part of this journey. Together, we can — and will — continue to make a difference.
With warmest wishes for a hopeful, inclusive, and empowering year ahead.
It would be easy to rush to call Rocco Ritchie a “nepo baby” and dismiss his artistic success as being down to his famous parents. Of course, any help in an industry riddled with nepotism and driven by who you know can be an advantage. However, I am the first to say that Rocco is a huge talent with an original voice — if there is such a thing — and that originality is precisely why he is taking the art world by storm.
Rocco Ritchie is gaining recognition not because of who his parents are, but because of who he is becoming. In an industry often suspicious of famous surnames, he has quietly and confidently carved out a space that feels earned rather than inherited. Far from the caricature of a “nepo baby,” he has demonstrated discipline, originality, and a genuine commitment to craft that has surprised critics and collectors alike.
The label of nepotism is an easy one to reach for. As the son of global icon Madonna and filmmaker Guy Ritchie, Rocco grew up surrounded by creativity, privilege, and cultural capital. Yet what is striking about his artistic rise is how deliberately he stepped away from the spotlight that might have guaranteed instant attention. For years, he worked under a pseudonym, allowing his art to speak before his name did. That decision alone signals intent: Ritchie wanted critique, not cushioning.
His work does not rely on imitation or celebrity gimmickry. While many emerging artists fall into the trap of echoing fashionable trends or overtly referencing their influences, Ritchie resists this. Too often, artists with minimal talent but strong PR and marketing skills are sold to naïve buyers on the strength of a story rather than substance. The work may look good on a wall, but when it comes time to resell, the narrative unravels. Ritchie’s art does not rely on hype; it stands on its
own.
His work feels personal and idiosyncratic, and my hunch is that it will one day sell at serious auction houses. His paintings often explore mood, texture, and form with a restraint that belies his youth. There is confidence in his mark-making and composition, but also vulnerability — an understanding that art is as much about questioning as it is about declaring.
What sets Ritchie apart is that his work resists easy categorisation. There are echoes of classic portraiture, abstract expressionism, and urban grit, yet these elements are filtered through a distinctly contemporary lens. His use of layered surfaces and muted palettes gives the impression of images emerging from memory rather than being presented as finished statements. This refusal to over-explain is refreshing in an age of overexposure.
Equally compelling is Ritchie’s personal evolution. Over recent years, he has grown into a strikingly handsome and self-assured man, yet without the performative bravado often associated with celebrity offspring. There is a quietness to his public presence — a sense that he is more comfortable in the studio than on the red carpet. This grounded demeanour enhances his credibility as an artist committed to longevity rather than instant fame. He does not overtly reference other artists in his work, though there may be subtle echoes of the Mexican greats Frida Kahlo and Diego Rivera — favourites of his mother — woven quietly into his visual language.
Public fascination has also been reignited by rare and genuinely touching moments of unity between his parents. Seeing Madonna and Guy Ritchie together in public for the first time in years, supporting their son, struck a chord. In an era where celebrity family dynamics are often reduced to spectacle, their shared pride felt sincere. It underscored that Rocco’s journey has not been about rebellion or reaction, but about reconciliation — between heritage and independence, privilege and purpose.
It would be naïve to deny the influence of Madonna’s deep love of art. A lifelong collector with a formidable eye, she has immersed herself in fine art, from classical masters to cutting-edge contemporary works. Growing up around such visual literacy undoubtedly shaped Rocco’s sensibilities. But influence is not imitation. Rather than copying his mother’s tastes, Ritchie appears to have absorbed an understanding of art as dialogue — between past and present, self and society.
What makes his rise feel so timely is that audiences are craving authenticity. Collectors and critics alike are increasingly weary of hype without substance. Ritchie’s work rewards slow looking. It invites interpretation without dictating meaning. This approach has helped him build genuine momentum, with exhibitions that attract attention not because of scandal or surname, but because viewers are curious to see what he will do next.
Rocco Ritchie’s emergence reminds us that legacy does not have to be a burden. It can be a foundation — one that still requires effort, risk, and humility to build upon. He is not storming the art world with noise, but with nuance. And in today’s cultural climate, that quiet confidence may be the most radical statement of all.
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.
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!
If there is one woman capable of shaking up the Christmas charts, unseating the usual pop titans, and bringing pure chaotic joy to the holiday season, it’s Denise Welch. With Slayyy Bells, she hasn’t just released a festive single — she’s unleashed a cultural moment. A glittery, high-camp, tongue-in-cheek masterpiece that captures everything the British public secretly craves at Christmas: humour, heart, a bit of mischief, and a full-throttle, unapologetic “hun energy.”
Denise has long been adored for her honesty, her warmth, and her refusal to take herself too seriously. That’s why the LGBTQ+ community has embraced her with open arms. She doesn’t perform camp — she embodies it. Whether it’s fiery daytime TV realness, chaotic comic timing, or her glamorous, self-deprecating sparkle, Denise is the kind of icon who walks into a room and immediately becomes everyone’s mum, best friend, and backstage confidante. She is the definition of a British hun: fierce, funny, fabulous, and fearlessly herself.
Slayyy Bells captures that spirit perfectly. It’s a sugary cocktail of festive beats, wink-wink lyrics, and nightclub-ready chaos — the kind of song that would make even the Grinch put on a sequinned jumpsuit. In a chart landscape dominated by perfectly polished megastars like Taylor Swift, Dua Lipa, or Ed Sheeran, Denise offers something the others can’t: pure personality. She’s not trying to be slick, she’s trying to be fun — and that’s exactly what people cling to at Christmas.
Let’s be honest: the UK loves an underdog, and Denise is the ultimate comeback queen. She’s lived a life, she’s told her story, and she has emerged with more charisma than half the industry put together. When she releases a Christmas single, it isn’t just music — it’s a movement. It’s the collective national desire for something joyful, camp, inclusive, and proudly silly.
The LGBTQ+ community in particular knows a gay icon when it sees one. Denise is outspoken, loyal, emotionally open, and effortlessly dramatic. She’s relatable yet glamorous; chaotic yet wise; messy yet magnificent. She’s the woman who will cry with you, dance with you, and drag you out to karaoke at 2 a.m. — the Patron Saint of Huns.
This is why Slayyy Bells deserves to beat the global juggernauts. Christmas Number One shouldn’t always go to the most streamed, the most marketed, or the most algorithmically optimised. Sometimes it should go to the artist who brings the most joy. The one who makes people laugh, sing, and feel part of something bigger.
Denise Welch is that artist. She’s the people’s diva, the hun-in-chief, the LGBTQ+ fairy godmother of festive chaos — and Slayyy Bells is the anthem worthy of her crown.
This Christmas, let’s make history. Let’s give the Number One to the woman who would celebrate it harder than anyone else: Queen Denise Welch.
2Shades Magazine 