As the festive season sweeps across the United Kingdom, the glow of Christmas lights has become a symbol of both community celebration and deeply personal remembrance. Yet, for two families in England, the season’s traditions have brought unexpected pain and controversy, prompting public apologies, heartfelt pleas for understanding, and a renewed conversation about inclusivity and empathy during the holidays.
In Stevenage, Hertfordshire, a Christmas lights switch-on event held on November 24, 2025, became the center of a local storm. Thirteen-year-old Logan, a popular TikTok creator with nearly half a million followers, was featured prominently on event posters as the guest who would turn on the town’s Christmas lights alongside Santa. Logan lives with 22q11 deletion syndrome—also known as DiGeorge syndrome—a condition that can bring lifelong challenges, including heart defects and learning difficulties. His mother, Gemma, who founded The Abilities In Me Foundation to promote inclusivity and awareness, saw the event as a meaningful opportunity for Logan and the wider community.
But when the moment arrived, it was not Logan who pressed the button. Instead, another child was ushered forward while Logan stood at the back of the stage, unmentioned and confused. Gemma described the scene to BBC, saying, “He was literally right at the back and he was going, 'Where's the button, Mummy?'... He was trying to understand and I didn't know what was going on. They started counting down and he was going, 'Where's Santa, Mummy?'”
The incident quickly drew attention online, with many expressing outrage and disappointment. Gemma felt her son had been “used for publicity,” and she called for a direct apology. “Someone to come forward, take accountability and apologise to Logan,” she urged. “Nobody has taken accountability at the council. They need to step into Logan's world and see how amazing he actually is.”
Responding to the outcry, Coleen De Freitas, cabinet member at Stevenage Borough Council, issued a public apology on November 25. “It was not our intention to offend or ignore them, and for that I wholeheartedly apologise on behalf of the council,” De Freitas stated. She also pledged to contact Gemma directly: “I will contact Gemma to listen to her views on yesterday's event and to say sorry for not taking time to ensure Gemma and her son were visible and able to carry out their role. Lots of people came to the event to support Gemma's work leading The Abilities In Me Foundation. As the cabinet member responsible for equalities and young people, I want to ensure the council takes the necessary steps to avoid experiences like this in the future.”
Social media rumors swirled, suggesting favoritism or nepotism in the selection of the child who ultimately switched on the lights. However, a council spokesperson clarified that the child was not a relative of the mayor nor known to her, aiming to dispel any notions of preferential treatment.
While the council’s online apology acknowledged the oversight, Gemma continues to seek a more personal gesture—a direct apology to Logan himself and a commitment to genuine inclusivity. The episode has sparked broader reflection in Stevenage about how public events can better accommodate and celebrate young people with disabilities, and how institutions can be more mindful of the promises they make to families in the public eye.
Meanwhile, nearly 150 miles north in Tameside, Greater Manchester, another Christmas lights tradition has illuminated a different side of the season’s emotional complexity. For 25 years, Suzanne Wiggins has adorned her Dukinfield home with a dazzling display of Christmas lights—a tribute to her daughter, Courtenay, who tragically died at age nine in 2000 after a case of meningitis was misdiagnosed as a stomach bug.
Suzanne’s tradition began in 1995, shortly after moving into the neighborhood. “It was nothing back in the day, just a normal house like a terraced house with a couple of lights up,” she told BBC Manchester. “But then Courtenay started buying her own lights with little bits of pocket money. She loved going out with a little tray of mince pies and giving them to people passing by.”
After Courtenay’s passing, Suzanne promised to keep her daughter’s memory alive through the annual display. “When she got poorly, I promised her I'd always maintain her memory and carry it on. I can't have her being forgotten, she was too precious for that.”
The display became a beloved local fixture. For years, everyone in Dukinfield recognized its significance—bus drivers would slow down to wave, joggers would stop for a hug, and until three years ago, Suzanne hosted a party for more than 80 guests on the night of the lights switch-on. But as the neighborhood changed, with new residents moving in, Suzanne found herself having to explain the tradition’s meaning—and, increasingly, defend it.
This November, Suzanne faced a new wave of criticism. As she was putting up the lights, a young girl shouted at her for decorating “too early,” a comment Suzanne described as “quite venomous.” She has also experienced vandalism, with lights being pulled down and her gate nearly ripped off its hinges. In response, Suzanne posted in a local community group, hoping for understanding. “Everything is on a timer, I'm conscious of not upsetting the neighbours, I am careful and considerate - so I just want people to show me some consideration. Let me do what I need to do to remember her.”
The pain of losing Courtenay still lingers, made sharper by the lack of compassion from some in her community. Suzanne recounted her daughter’s final days: “One day, she said something awful—utterly heartbreaking—she was holding my hand and telling me that her hands wouldn't get old. And then she told me she didn't want to die. So I grabbed her up in my arms and took her to hospital. I had been to the doctors that very morning and they told me that there was nothing wrong with her.” Courtenay died less than three weeks after falling ill, despite desperate efforts and consultations with international doctors.
For Suzanne, the lights are more than decoration; they are a promise kept, a beacon against forgetting, and a way to share Courtenay’s joy with the world. Yet, the annual tradition now comes with a plea: that neighbors and passers-by show kindness, patience, and respect for the stories behind the seasonal glow.
As both Logan’s and Suzanne’s stories reveal, the meaning of Christmas lights stretches far beyond simple festivity. For some, they are a stage for community recognition and inclusion; for others, a living memorial to loved ones lost. This year, their experiences serve as a reminder that behind every twinkle, there may be a story worth hearing—and a neighbor in need of understanding.
