Green

FORMER Coronation Street actress Georgia May Foote looked stunning as she playfully posed in a green bikini.

The star has been enjoying a getaway in Dubai and wowed her followers by opting for the colourful two-piece.

Georgia, 35, showed off her killer curves and had a white sarong to cover up whilst taking a stroll on her holiday.

She added to her post: “Swipe for a happy happy girl.”

Her brunette locks fell in front of her face as she left her followers wowing with the jaw-dropping snaps.

Georgia’s trip away comes just weeks after she went public with her new boyfriend following her sudden marriage split last year.

MOVING ON

Georgia May Foote reveals her ‘happiest chapter’ in new home after marriage split

MAY BE LOVE

Georgia May Foote’s new boyfriend revealed as she shares loved-up pic with him

The star split from her husband Kris Evans last year but she has now moved on for good.

Georgia has been romancing a top record producer who has worked with the likes of Aitch and Central Cee.

Taras Slusarenko, who goes by LiTek online, was unveiled by The Sun after he swept Georgia off her feet.

Taras, who is originally from Russia, lives just outside of Manchester and around 30 minutes from where Georgia resides.

Talking of the new romance, a source revealed to The Sun: “Georgia met Taras earlier this year at a running club and they’ve been smitten ever since.

“He has brought the smile back on her face and they’re in a bubble together.”

Bracken and heather ripple across the plateau. I exhale into the chill autumn air and my breath mists a view that reaches all the way to Gower and the ochre peaks of Bannau Brycheiniog (formerly the Brecon Beacons). Far below, the Ogmore valley’s terrace houses look like tiny constellations but up here on Tarren y Fforch, it’s just me and a few sheep taking springy steps between tufts of bilberries. If this corner of the south Wales valleys feels a long way from its coal mining past, that is, partly, the point.

I’m hiking the new Llwybr Coedwig Cymru Trail, or Wales Forest Trail. Running from Porthkerry Park, near Barry, to Pont Walby, close to Glynneath, this 50-mile (80km) pilot route is the first section of what the National Forest for Wales hopes will eventually be a trail linking woodlands across the length and breadth of Wales: a sylvan counterpart to the Wales Coast Path.

My father grew up in one of the valleys’ mining villages and, when I visited relatives there as a child, the disconnection of those post-industrial communities from the wild hills that loomed above them was striking. Mountain bikers have long discovered the region’s potential, but walkers still tend to head for the more obvious trails that wind through the national parks or along the coast. This pilot trail seems a good excuse to explore untapped footpaths.

With the sea behind me, I set off from the oak leaf sculpture that marks the trail’s start. The viaduct ahead once carried coal to Barry docks, but today it stands over Caffe Matteo, busy with dog walkers sipping cappuccinos. Leaving them behind, I cross the park between the soft greens of birch and oak trees.

I swerve on to a fern-fringed path and follow a stream to the outskirts of Barry. The next section is less lovely – a long stretch of roadside pavement until I enter Hensol Forest. The sunshine splinters through ancient pine trees and their needles cushion the ground. Weaving in and out of forest and fields, I soak up all the calm this long-distance forest-bathing exercise can offer until the Vale Resort comes into sight.

This vast hotel is popular with golfers, but also holds two trump cards for walkers: a spa where weary hikers can swim, sauna and steam their muscles limber again, and a bar serving energy-boosting Welsh rarebit spiked with ale mustard, Dragon cheddar and charred leeks.

Restored, I rejoin the trail the next morning, dipping along leafy lanes and footpaths as the roar of the M4 gets louder. I cross beneath it to enter Coedwig Gellihir, a small broadleaf woodland, then continue north into Pontyclun, before clambering down to the river at Ynysmaerdy Forest to pick up an old railway path to Coedely.

The trail has been designed to offer stretches for cyclists, pushchair users and horse riders, with more pavement-pounding and, in Thomastown, a reminder of the challenges faced by post-industrial communities. Leaving the village behind, the trail opens out again on to a little rocky path with soaring views of Ogwr Fach Valley.

One of the National Forest for Wales’s aims is to help communities connect with nearby woodlands. In Blackmill, the next village I come to, the trail passes Coed Bach Dimbath, a small community woodland where local groups have come together to build an otter hide, outdoor classroom and accessible paths.

“The woodland there had been inaccessible for decades, and now people can access it,” says Rhodri Hewitt of Natural Resources Wales, the trail’s project lead. “The valleys can feel desperately poor in places, but the River Ogmore is another world entirely.”

Continuing north to Nant-y-Moel, I come to Blaenogwr Farm, a Georgian farmstead marooned in the village, where I’m staying in a homely holiday cottage. I drop off my backpack and head across the road for fish with buttery potatoes and laverbread (made from edible seaweed) and cockle sauce at the Blaenogwr Hotel.

My final day’s walking starts with a climb up to that extraordinary plateau on Tarren y Fforch. Hewitt tells me that parts of the trail follow the paths miners took across these hills to work in pits in neighbouring valleys. I’m glad they had this antidote to the darkness and danger underground. Today’s route feels uplifting. I slip through an ancient gate on to open moorland and pick my way up the escarpment, meadow pipits chirruping around me.

Crossing the plateau, I enter Afan Forest park, a large commercial woodland that’s also home to a forest of wind turbines, a peat restoration project and a network of mountain-biking trails. I have an urge to be inside the forest rather than tracing its edges and detour on to a footpath leading up to the trig point at Craig y Llyn, the highest point of the valleys at 600m.

Continuing beneath branches dripping velvety lichen, I come to another spectacular viewpoint, as the land drops away to the waters of Llyn Fach and Llyn Fawr, with the peaks of Corn Du and Pen y Fan shrouded in soft-focus drizzle behind them. Soon I dip into the loveliest stretch of forest along the whole trail.

The valley of Cwm Gwrelych is a designated geological site of special scientific interest because of the near complete 300m-year-old strata exposed here. But it’s also rainforest-like, cut through with waterfalls, a dark, glossy river and dense, broadleaf woodland. I feel completely enveloped in green as I hike the last couple of miles to the trail’s current end, the Isambard Kingdom Brunel-designed viaduct at Pont Walby. As I continue to Sgwd Gwladys pub with rooms in nearby Pontneddfechan, I remind myself that this is not a finished trail but the beginning of one.

The next morning, I pull on my boots one last time and set out in search of the waterfall the pub is named after. Mist rises from the river, shafts of sunlight turn the leaves amber and a heron glides past in cinematic slow-mo. When we spoke about the trail, Hewitt mentioned an old Welsh proverb: Dod yn ôl at fy nghoed, meaning “To return to my trees”, or finding your way back to a balanced state of mind. As I sit and admire Sgwd Gwladys’ thundering cascade, I realise this leafy trail has delivered exactly that.

The trip was provided by the National Forest for Wales and Natural Resources Wales. Vale Resort has doubles from £104 room-only. The Airbnb cottage costs from £87 a night. Sgwd Gwladys has doubles from £65.55, room only. For trail information, visit gov.wales/llwybr-coedwig-cymru-trail and for region information Visitwales.com

Netflix subscribers have been urged to check out a ‘heartbreaking’ true story that has been compared to Green Mile – but be warned as it’s said to be ‘one of the saddest films to ever exist’

Netflix viewers have been left in floods of tears after watching a ‘hidden gem’ tucked away on the video streaming platform. Luke Eccleston, who reviews movies and television shows on social media, is urging Netflix subscribers to check out a ‘heartbreaking’ true story that’s perfect for Green Mile fans.

Luke, who posts under the username Eccy Reviews, said on TikTok: “I’m not saying this lightly, but you need to run to Netflix immediately because I’ve just discovered the biggest hidden gem. I’ll be very surprised if you’ve seen this film, and once you have, you will never, ever forget about it. The film that I’m talking about is called Miracle in Cell No 7. Now, if you’re someone who’s seen this film, you’ll know that this is one of the saddest films to ever exist.”

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‘This is one of the saddest films to ever exist’

Based on the the Korean movie Miracle in Cell No 7, it tells a story of love between a mentally-ill father who was wrongly accused of murder and his lovely six-year-old daughter.

Luke added: “It is actually based on a true story. This follows this man with special needs who has this younger daughter.

“After an incident where another little girl is killed, he is framed and sent to prison. He is sentenced to death. The people in the prison believe that he did the things.

“What he is accused of and the things they do to him is honestly awful. After time, they begin to realise who and what he is.

“The story, what comes out of it is genuinely incredible. I was shocked so many times watching this film. I was in so many tears.

“I’ve recommended this to so many friends, and every single person who’s watched it has said that they cried.”

‘I loved this movie, cried and cried’

Starring Aras Bulut Iynemli, Nisa Sofiya Aksongur, and Deniz Baysal, the movie has won 12 awards alongside its 13 nominations.

Commenting on Luke’s video, one user said: “Just put it on, I’ve got my tissues ready.”

Another user added: “Similar to Green Mile.”

A third user said: “I loved this movie, cried and cried. Amazing!”

It’s early morning in Erfurt, the capital of Germany’s Thuringia region, and Domplatz is abuzz with local growers setting out crates of vegetables and flowers beneath the soaring medieval cathedral towers. This 14th- and 15th-century engineering wonder holds the Gloriosa, the world’s largest medieval free-swinging bell, cast in 1497 and weighing 12 tonnes. Though the city and surrounding landscape are notably flat, its skyline is pierced by soaring church towers and steeples, the atmospheric old town hardly changed over the centuries.

Thuringia – often called the “green heart of Germany” – lies in the centre of the country, between Hesse, Saxony and Bavaria. It’s famous for its dense forests, intellectual heritage and hearty cuisine, and I’m here for four days to explore using public transport.

Leaving Frankfurt behind, my three-hour coach journey rolls through rising forested highlands before descending into the wide, agricultural basin that cradles Erfurt. After checking out Domplatz’s morning market, it’s just a short walk to one of the town’s other famous sights, the 120-metre-long Krämerbrücke – a 14th-century bridge lined with colourful half-timbered houses.

Erfurt was once at the crossroads of two major trade routes, and the wealth that built its impressive churches and merchants’ houses came partly from waid, or woad, a plant cultivated in the surrounding fields and processed for its blue dye. I stroll past the craft shops (some still sell the dye) to Petersberg Citadel, one of the largest and best-preserved fortresses in Europe, with a maze of underground tunnels. This is also the city where the Protestant Reformation took root – Martin Luther studied here and was a monk in the Augustinian monastery (you can join a guided tour or even stay overnight).

Dinner is in a suitably historic setting; Wirtshaus Christoffel, in the Haus zur weißen Lilie (House of the White Lily), dates back to the 12th century (the house-brewed beer and beef roulade with Thuringian dumplings are delicious).

Next morning, I head to Egapark (a seven-minute bus ride or a 30-minute walk from town). Spread across 36 hectares (89 acres), it was created for the 1961 international horticultural exhibition. The old Cyriaksburg fortress houses the German Horticultural Museum, which traces the history of gardening, while displays range from landscapes of cacti and succulents to tropical planting.

The city of Weimar, a 30-minute bus journey away, is next on my list. The birthplace of the artistic Bauhaus movement, and where Germany’s first democratic constitution was adopted, it’s full of interesting historic sites and design gems. I visit the Bauhaus museum, with its ceramics, textiles, metalwork and painting, and wander around town, passing the former art school buildings that now house the Bauhaus-Universität.

The next morning, I swap culture for chilling and take another bus to Bad Langensalza, a spa town of 10 parks and themed gardens, 40 miles (64km) away. My guide, Markus Fromm, explains that people come here to “cure, to relax, to refresh”.

Sulphur springs were discovered here in 1811, and today, the Friederiken Therme is the town’s main thermal spa, offering natural sulphur, brine and drinking mineral waters, alongside indoor and outdoor pools, saunas and treatments. Traces of the older spa history remain around the town: at Friederikenschlösschen, an 18th-century summer residence, a fountain still runs with sulphur water that has been used for healing since 1812.

But it’s the town’s gardens that really win me over. I wander Friederikenschlösschen’s restored baroque garden and visit the Klagetor, a gate tower dating from about 1365, where the old town gives way to the Japanese garden, Kofuku no Niwa (Garden of Happiness), with its koi ponds, clipped azaleas and sculpted pines.

For nature on an even grander scale, I take a bus to Hainich national park, 10 minutes away (you can easily rent a bike/e-bike and follow cycling paths to get there too). Spanning 7,500 hectares, Hainich offers more than 75 miles of signposted walking trails through its beech forests, part of a Unesco world heritage site. The wider Hainich is Germany’s largest unbroken deciduous woodland area. “Parts of this landscape have been left entirely untouched for decades, abandoned to their own devices without a shred of human meddling,” says park director Rüdiger Biehl.

Before hitting the trail, I stop at the park’s restaurant, Forsthaus Thiemsburg, for a regional lunch – roast pork in black beer and Thuringian dumplings, washed down with a cold Köstritzer pilsner. Then, into the trees. Deep in the beeches, the sun sporadically breaks through the branches and the leaves crunch loudly under my boots. Up in the canopy, it’s mostly just the birds making noise – chaffinches and wood warblers chatter, interrupted by the occasional sharp rattle of a middle spotted woodpecker drilling into a trunk.

The Baumkronenpfad, a wooden walkway through the treetops, rises to a 44-metre observation tower. Here, the canopy of an oak that is estimated to be 350 years old is almost at eye level. It’s a spectacular view, but the forest’s real engine is down below. Deadwood is left to decay where it falls, providing habitat for rare wood-boring insects and endangered Bechstein’s bats. Back in Erfurt that evening, I catch the final symphony concert of the season at Theaterplatz. It’s a reminder of the winning combination of culture and nature that I’ve enjoyed over my four days in Thuringia. I had come looking for a less familiar corner of Germany and found a region that offers plenty of variety – and all accessible with a few short bus rides.

The trip was provided by the German National Tourist Board. Dorint Hotel am Dom in Erfurt has doubles from £85. For journey planning, VMT has information on buses, trains and trams across central Thuringia, as well as a free app with live departure updates

Andy Burnham has called on Green leader Zack Polanski to reverse a motion passed by members of his party declaring Zionism a form of racism.

The prime minister said the motion, approved on Sunday at the party’s conference in Brighton, was “completely wrong” and showed “terrible judgement”.

The motion defined Zionism as an ideology supporting “an ethnonationalist Jewish state” and backed a “single democratic Palestinian state in all of historic Palestine”, which includes modern-day Israel.

In the wake of the vote, Polanski has said he would not accept anyone being excluded from the Green Party “because of the religious or communal body they are part of”.

The Green leader has declined media interviews since the motion was passed and did not answer questions from a BBC reporter about the motion ahead of Burnham’s comments.

It comes as polls close in Thursday’s Holborn and St Pancras by-election, in which Polanski is a candidate.

The motion has complicated the final days of Polanksi’s campaign in the contest, where the Greens have been looking to overturn a substantial Labour majority in the seat vacated by former Prime Minister Sir Keir Starmer.

It has sparked days of controversy, with four of the five Green MPs opposing it, its co-deputy leaders split on supporting it, the Green deputy leader in Wales resigning, and condemnation from members and Green counterparts in Europe.

Polanski did not vote on the Zionism motion, having left the conference early to return to London for the by-election campaign.

An amendment he had backed to specify that the motion should not be used to discipline Jewish members attending synagogues that consider themselves Zionist was voted down by members.

Before the vote, he had also said he wanted to see the reference to a single Palestinian state changed, arguing: “I don’t believe we as a Green Party of England and Wales, or even the British government, should be deciding what the future settlement looks like.”

The Green Party has an internal democracy model, under which official party policy is decided by members. However, these positions are not necessarily included in the party’s general election manifestos.

A baggily clad skateboarder’s wheels clatter across concrete floors, the noise bouncing off exposed pipes and iron girders. Vaulted skylights set in high ceilings illuminate the industrial space and its central kitchen, from which my main course – a silky lemon risotto, spiked with samphire, rhubarb, garlic, baby onions and basil – has just been transported.

I’m in the Dutch city of Eindhoven, in North Brabant, famous for its historic connection to Philips, the one-time electronics giant. The restaurant, Radio Royaal, is housed in what was once their engine room, in the Strijp-S neighbourhood. Today, Strijp-S buzzes with concept stores, an indoor food market, MU Hybrid Art House and the Area 51 skatepark. The broader area, Strijp, was where the company was largely headquartered: its zones are named S, T and R. In the late 90s, Philips withdrew from the city where it had started in 1891, and the letters I, J and P were never assigned.

Philips had employed about half of the region’s working population, so its departure for Amsterdam inevitably left a huge hole. Fortunately for Eindhoven, this was short-lived, and within a decade the city had reinvented itself as a multicultural hub for design and innovation – so much so that Dutch Design Week, the largest event of its kind in northern Europe, has been held here since 2005.

This year’s iteration, from 17 to 25 October, has a jam-packed programme of exhibitions, workshops and seminars at more than 100 locations around the city, with thousands of local and international designers involved. About 350,000 visitors are expected, with displays spanning everything from a bar made from mushrooms to the manipulation of Dutch wool (which is coarser than other wools, such as merino) for wearable garments.

Well beyond Design Week, however, Eindhoven packs a punch in terms of creativity. On my visit, I discovered a city that is not only vibrant and design-led, but also surprisingly green.

Completely off-limits during Philips’ heyday, Strijp-S is perhaps the liveliest example of Eindhoven’s reinvention, with innovative businesses making the most of the industrial spaces. It’s distinguished, too, by the Trudo Tower, a 19-storey building where facade planters froth with more than 70 species of greenery. Purpose-built in 2020, these eye-catching apartments were designed to provide affordable housing for low-income residents.

Despite the city’s industrial past, about 40% of Eindhoven’s landscape comprises greenery. Walkways – complete with bat boxes – run alongside the Dommel river, while larger spaces, such as Karpendonkse Plas and Philips de Jongh park, provide walking and biking opportunities. This, plus an average commute time of 15 minutes, helps to explain why Eindhoven was named the world’s least stressed city last year.

As you walk from the UFO-shaped Evoluon (now functioning as an exhibition space and conference centre, and given by the company to the city on its 75th anniversary) on the edge of the Het Ven neighbourhood towards Strijp-R, the area becomes both green and residential. Ahead of the times, Philips saw the correlation between nature and healthy, happy employees. As early as 1910, the company started building workers’ accommodation with large gardens, which today are a mix of social and private housing.

Strijp-R’s primary allure, however, is the RK Complex. Formerly a Philips ceramics factory, it was bought by renowned Dutch designer Piet Hein Eek and opened in 2010. Other designers have workshops here, too: the idea, said Hein Eek, was to give young creatives an affordable space to work. The concept obviously works: in more than 15 years, only five of the 25 studios have changed hands.

Visitors flock here year-round to check out Hein Eek’s eco-forward scrap wood furniture and for glimpses into the studios, the cavernous exhibition space and the shop, packed with smaller design objects – ceramics, books, jewellery. The onsite Green Restaurant favours local, seasonal ingredients in hearty portions; it’s attached to the boutique Piet Hein Eek hotel, also one of the designer’s innovations. It has 14 rooms, each featuring a distinctive design style, with doubles from €135.

What makes a stay in Eindhoven even more interesting, however, are the myriad ways this impulse towards repurposing spaces, reusing materials and thinking sustainably shapes the visitor experience. I stayed at Hotel Mariënhge (doubles from €83) in the centre, a former monastery characterised by clean lines and cheeky art, its interiors effortlessly blending old and new.

From here, it’s a short walk to the retail district, where vintage stores range from the highly curated Yatva Vintage to a Salvation Army ReShare store. Near Strijp-R, I happen upon Luna & Lore, owned and run by Luna Hartogs. “Lore is about wisdom passed on from previous generations, and I learned to sew from my grandmother,” she explains, as I rifle delightedly through rails of upcycled vintage clothing. “For me, it’s also about passing things on for people to enjoy.”

“Eindhoven gets called ‘Vintage Valhalla’ – a paradise,” Erik van Gerwen of Eindhoven 365 tells me over dinner at Fifth NRE, itself housed in a former gas factory. “There’s the Philips legacy, but the presence of the Design Academy also ensures a lively community, passionate about innovatively making use of what already exists.”

Creating opportunities is a recurring theme in Eindhoven. I see it again at New Order of Fashion, a nonprofit organisation providing makers with resources to experiment with, as well as a sellers’ platform. It’s also a lab, researching the future of fashion from a regenerative perspective, and a public space aiming to inspire visitors to think about their consumer choices.

I loiter outside the Muziekgebouw concert hall: since 2024, its facade has featured a massive mural of a street musician and classical concert violinist embracing. Named Echoes of Harmony, it was commissioned by Eindhoven city council to represent music’s ability to bridge barriers, and since named best mural worldwide by Street Art Cities.

On the city’s north-eastern edge, graffers can legally unleash spray cans in Berenkuil, a two-level roundabout and now the country’s largest open-air graffiti zone. Ramps and rails make it a beeline for skateboarders, too; again, I hear wheels grinding on concrete. There are no dibs here: the art lasts mere days before it’s sprayed over by someone else, but that, I’m told, is the point. In Eindhoven, perhaps more than anywhere else, the idea that everything is ephemeral, yet also renewable, seems entirely at home.

The trip was provided by the Netherlands Board of Tourism and Conventions