'Report Asian hornet nests, don't try to destroy them'
People are being asked to track the location of Asian hornet nests rather than destroy them.It comes as Queen Asian hornets are set to leave their primary nests alongside worker hornets to build their large main nests in new locations, capable of holding up to 2,000 hornets.The States is asking members of the public to submit photos and information about where they find nests so the Asian hornet team can come and remove them.The Asian hornet is described as a non-native invasive species, which poses a threat to biodiversity, pollinating insects and beekeeping activities.
During this year's "Spring Queening" phase, more queen Asian hornets were trapped than any previous year with 69 queens caught and five primary nests destroyed.Hundreds of volunteers took part in "a comprehensive island-wide programme" to trap queen Asian hornets as they emerged from hibernation in the spring or as they arrived from France and possibly other islands.
"We are really grateful to our trapping volunteers for their support and commitment to this project." said Francis Russell, the States' Asian Hornet Strategy project coordinator."We're also grateful to members of the wider public who have played a vital role in reporting potential Asian hornet or nest sightings to us."If you spot what you think might be a hornet, take a photo, observe where it goes, send the information to us and we'll do the rest."People are being asked to submit the information to asianhornet@gov.gg or call 07839 197082.
Hashtags
Try Our AI Features
Explore what Daily8 AI can do for you:
Comments
No comments yet...
Related Articles
Telegraph
5 hours ago
- Telegraph
Hampton Court to inspire next generation of gardeners with ‘kaleidoscope of colour'
Hampton Court Palace is aiming to inspire the next generation of gardeners with a 'kaleidoscope of colour'' in its sustainable garden redesign. The Great Fountain Garden, in the heart of what was formerly King Henry VIII 's court, will undergo a replanting in line with modern standards, Historic Royal Palaces (HRP) has revealed. The independent charity, which cares for six historic royal palaces including Kensington Palace and The Tower of London, aims to create biodiverse and climate-resistant grounds at Hampton Court. The project will be led by Ann-Marie Powell, an award-winning garden expert, who said the new design would form 'a kaleidoscopic border that is dynamic and ever-changing'. It will introduce 32 planting beds and borders across 1.5 acres of the grounds and feature nearly 300 species of plants. Examples of the new plants being introduced, specially selected for their climate resilience, include iris, geranium, agapanthus and verbena. It is expected that a colour spectrum ranging from violet to gold will 'intensify' in brightness as the planting reaches the edge of the River Thames. Ms Powell, who has more than three decades of experience in garden design and has won multiple awards, said: 'We're not just planting for visual impact - we're planting for pollinators, for changing weather, for longevity. 'This isn't just about making something beautiful. It's about creating a living, breathing landscape that connects people to the natural world, evokes the history beneath their feet, and inspires new ways of thinking about gardens today. 'It's our hope that everyone who walks through this space will find something that speaks to them, whether it's a plant they recognise, a bee at work, or just a moment of wonder.' Her remarks - and vision - are in keeping with King Charles 's lifelong climate and sustainability championing, as well as his passion for horticulture. Ms Powell said 'every plant has a purpose and a place' in the Great Fountain Garden, which was first laid out between 1689 and 1696 by King William III and Queen Mary II. The grounds were later simplified under Queen Anne and transformed by Queen Victoria, who introduced herbaceous borders and 'bold' annual bedding. While each iteration reflected the tastes of the time, Ms Powell said that the redesign needs to also reflect mounting biodiversity loss and adapting temperatures because of climate change. 'This space has been shaped by centuries of royal vision, from formal Anglo-Dutch elegance to exuberant Victorian colour,' she explained. 'And now we're adding a new layer, one that speaks to the future as much as the past.' As part of the new plans, set to begin planting in the autumn, HRP aims to establish a horticultural milestone by establishing an official national collection of echinacea purpurea across the Hampton Court Palace grounds, featuring over 60 varieties which can reach up to 1.5 metres tall. Alex Wigley, head of Parks and Gardens at HRP said: 'This garden honours centuries of royal horticulture while setting a bold new benchmark for sustainability. 'We're building it from the ground up - protecting soil, locking in carbon, and planting for resilience. With low-water requiring species and smarter layouts, it's designed not just to endure, but to thrive - supporting biodiversity, inspiring visitors, and helping us reach our goal of being nature-positive and carbon net zero by 2050.'
Telegraph
5 hours ago
- Telegraph
Why the French have the best sex in the world, by a Parisian sexologist
Recently, a 52-year-old woman came to me for help. She told me she'd been with her husband for over 30 years but had never had an orgasm during sex. 'I just assumed that part of me was broken,' she said. Sadly, that belief – that pleasure isn't for them – is something I hear again and again from women as a French sexologist living and working in Britain. So many women, particularly in this country, struggle with allowing themselves to ask, want and feel. The contrast with the confidence I see when I'm in France is stark. At a workshop I was running in Paris last year, a woman in her early 60s told a room of other women, matter-of-factly: 'Of course I still masturbate – I'd never rely on a man for that.' The whole group laughed, not in embarrassment, but in solidarity. For her, sexual pleasure was just part of life, like good food or good company. And the differing attitudes towards sex in France and Britain aren't confined to women. The entire cultures surrounding the subject are poles apart. Whenever sex is mentioned here, there's an underlying current of prudishness which often manifests as a blush, a giggle – or, as I've experienced many times, a total shut-down of the conversation. In France, sex is embedded in the national conversation. It's not seen as smutty, or risqué, to talk about it; it's not shrouded in nudge, nudge, wink, wink innuendo. People are far more open about the importance they place on it. We have a reputation for infidelity, but in my experience, French people don't necessarily have more affairs. There's less moral panic and more acceptance that eroticism and commitment can be complex, especially over the course of decades. Desire can ebb and flow within relationships – but being unafraid to talk about the subject means the French report feeling more sexually fulfilled, regardless of how long the relationship lasts. I trained to become a certified sexologist to help midlife women in similar situations to mine. Like so many of my clients now, I went through a divorce in 2019, after 17 years of marriage and two children, and wanted to explore my sexuality. I remember thinking, 'I wish I had someone to talk to about how to navigate these very turbulent years I'm going through', and that so many other women must be feeling the same. I embarked on a journey of sexual rediscovery, including having fun with younger men before meeting my current partner. My adventures taught me that pleasure isn't about performance, but truth. Being honest about what I wanted, on my own terms, was about learning to be sexual again, for myself. My confidence improved – in every aspect of my life – along with my sense of overall wellness. Inspired, I qualified as a life coach at first, then quit my 25-year career leading global campaigns in sustainable finance at institutions including the WWF, Barclays and the UN. I decided to devote myself to helping women who, whether in long-term relationships or single, are hungry for something more but lack the tools to go after it. Most people have heard of sex therapists, who help treat sexual dysfunction. Sexology is different. I'm not a therapist or medical professional, but a coach, who helps clients explore their goals around their sex lives and find solutions to attain them. In France, pleasure isn't seen as a luxury, but a life force; something for everybody at every stage of life, rather than the preserve of the young and beautiful. The Pleasure Atelier, the workshop for women I founded in Paris and am now bringing to London, is based on this principle. It's a space for women to have a glass of champagne and learn about ways to reconnect to their erotic selves, on their own terms. Here's what I believe British people can learn from the French about how to reignite their sexual spark. French women are not obsessed with staying 25 When you think of a celebrity British people deem sexy, chances are you're picturing a lissom young thing. The culture here encourages us to think of women, in particular, as sexual beings only when they're youthful, with taut skin and no responsibilities. The moment women have children, or go through the menopause, they're placed in another box: now nurturers, not creatures of desire. One woman in her late 40s came to me after her children had left home. She said: 'I've spent my whole life being everything to everyone else. I don't even know what I want any more.' It's common for my British clients to feel they've lost their identity as they've grown older. In France, there are many more role models of older women who exude sexiness, are vocal about sex and portray characters continuing to enjoy it. Think of Sylvie in the Netflix series Emily In Paris, played by 62-year-old Philippine Leroy-Beaulieu, or the 72-year-old actress Isabelle Huppert. They're chic, sophisticated women who continue to take their sexuality seriously, and seeing them inspires French women to expect the same for themselves. French women embrace the freedom of midlife and beyond, once their children are older – it's a time for us. Rediscovering yourself as a sexual being is essential to keep sex alive in long-term relationships, and it starts with not writing yourself off because you've hit un certain age. Treat yourself like a Parisian woman The cliches about Parisian women are broadly true: they often restrict their diets to remain rail-thin and rarely mention the menopause – quelle horreur! There's a vanity and pressure to stay sexually desirable which I wouldn't want British women to emulate. But there's also an innate sense of ourselves as sexual beings that I would like British women to embrace. It's in how we dress, how we speak, how we take up space. It's a mindset of self-worth. For too long here, from the boorish lad's mag culture of the 1990s to the current prevalence of Only Fans and porn, the conversation has centred around male pleasure, and women fulfilling male fantasies. French women, by contrast, view themselves as just as worthy of satisfaction. It might sound trivial, but wearing beautiful underwear under your everyday clothes, taking a moment to spritz perfume or lighting a candle can be a powerful reminder that you're deserving of pleasure. Make yourself your own fantasy. Pleasure is essential, not a luxury In Paris, there's a chain of female-friendly sex stores called Passage du Desir, which are a world away from the seedy sex shops found in London's Soho. They're an example of how sex is woven into the fabric of everyday life there, and how normal it is for French women to pop out and buy a sex toy. Sex toys are advertised on mainstream television and discussed endlessly in newspaper articles. My British clients have often lost touch with any kind of sensory pleasure, so I ask them to start small. Take a moment to feel the sun on your face, drink an ice-cold glass of rose or listen to a song you love – whatever feels enjoyable for you. The more in tune you are with your own body, the more pleasure you allow in. Learn to speak up Desire isn't shameful, it's human – and we French know that the more we talk about it, the more empowered we become. Here in Britain, I often hear women complaining that their partners don't satisfy them. Sometimes, if the issues between them begin outside the bedroom – women are often seething with years of pent-up resentment over their partner's behaviour – I suggest couples' counselling; some tell me outright that they hate their husband, and that's not conducive to reigniting the spark. Often, though, it's a case of years, sometimes decades, passing by with women hoping their partners will somehow intuitively know how to please them, without ever being told. I know it can feel daunting, but we have a responsibility to help guide them, and in my experience, most decent men are happy to learn. I encourage clients to write a fantasy list, starting with 'I've always wanted to…' Then I help them work up the courage to tell their partner one thing they want. Most of the time, he is delighted – and once that barrier has been crossed, it's much easier next time.
The Guardian
9 hours ago
- The Guardian
‘An absolute steal': supermarket croissants, tasted and rated by Felicity Cloake
Until the age of almost 30, I was largely indifferent to croissants, primarily because, despite all the time I'd spent in France, I'd tried a squashy industrial example sometime in the 1990s and decided they weren't worth the effort. When I finally tasted a croissant fresh from a bakery, out of politeness more than anything else, the flakes fell from my eyes, and a love affair was born. Since then, I've made up for lost time – in fact, I wrote an entire book based around the idea of cycling across France rating croissants, and judged the inaugural Isigny Sainte-Mère Best Croissant Competition UK. But I still steer clear of the supermarket variety wherever I am in the world, so this tasting was a baptism of fire for me. The Guardian's journalism is independent. We will earn a commission if you buy something through an affiliate link. Learn more. My usual croissant-judging system, out of 10, has had to be adapted for the Filter's rating system, but the criteria remain the same: I place little weight on appearance, because some of the flabbiest, most disappointing-looking croissants I've encountered have been the most delicious and, conversely, some perfect-looking beauties have turned out to taste of nothing. Personally, I favour an all-butter croissant, because I like them to taste of butter, and preferably that slightly sweet French butter; if you have to add more on top, or indeed jam, cheese, or Nutella, they've not used enough in the dough. Ideally, the little paper bag should be translucent with grease by the time you get it to the cafe seat where you intend to demolish it in the company of a cafe creme. That said, I'm not averse to the slightly more savoury, bready British style, either, so long as it's done well. Texture-wise, though, I'm aware that a technically perfect croissant should be made up of many airy layers of pastry; I prefer them a little squidgy in the middle and shatteringly crisp at the ends and underneath. After all, if a croissant doesn't leave you covered in buttery crumbs, you're doing it wrong. Not that I'm fussy, of course. £1.30 each in store★★★★★ I'm always a bit suspicious of big croissants – what are they trying to make up for? – but I can see the flakes coming off this one as I remove it from the bag. It's even authentically squashed, as if put in there warm from the oven. Shatteringly crisp ends, lovely, damp, elastic crumb and a savoury, even salty flavour that seems to be characteristic of British croissants. It doesn't taste French, but it is delicious – I'd definitely buy this again. 59p each in store ★★★★☆ A clumsily large croissant with a mildly off-putting matt finish, like a pair of American tan tights, but a prime example of how you should never judge by appearances, particularly when it comes to pastry. Inside lurk some very respectable layers and a decent, if fairly neutral buttery flavour. It's also an absolute steal. £1.30 each★★★★☆ If I'd been told there was a French interloper here, I'd have picked out this glossy, handsomely layered chap as the most likely candidate. It's a bit dry inside, sadly, but it has excellent lamination and they've nailed that authentically French flavour, with the delicate sweetness of good unsalted butter. £1.75 for two★★★★☆ This one has a spray tan worthy of Love Island (I suspect egg wash), and though it has lost a bit of definition in the oven, a few layers are evident on the outside. Unfortunately, I cut it in half to discover an enormous hole in the middle, which feels like a technical fault or a swizz, because what I can taste is actually really rather good. Faintly sweet and subtly buttery, with crunchy, if dry ends, and what remains of an elastic interior. Feels like it has potential, hence the charitable rating. £1 each in store ★★★☆☆ A medium croissant, with a pleasant colour and a classic, flaky appearance. It's not bad at all texture-wise – the ends are delicious and a few layers are evident in the middle – but it's a bit dull and could do with a pinch of salt. Sign up to The Filter Get the best shopping advice from the Filter team straight to your inbox. The Guardian's journalism is independent. We will earn a commission if you buy something through an affiliate link. after newsletter promotion £1.75 for two★★★☆☆ Looks a bit deflated, with a dull finish and not much in the way of layering visible. The flavour actually isn't bad – slightly yeasty and sweet – but the insides are fluffy like a bloomer, rather than rich and springy. Not unpleasant, you understand; just not what I look for in a croissant. £2.38 for four★★★☆☆ Another one to have been given an egg wash glow-up, though I won't hold it against it, because it wears it well, with decent definition and an airy, honeycomb centre. That said, 'exceptional' might be a little hubristic to describe this fluffy, inoffensively bland number. 59p each in store ★★☆☆☆ A nice-looking, golden brown pastry (if rather solid, like a toy croissant). There are some promising-looking layers on the outside that don't translate into much in the way of lamination in the middle, and it has an odd, pronounced, sweet yeasty flavour that reminds me slightly of rooibos tea. Unfortunately, I don't like rooibos tea. 50p each in store ★★☆☆☆ A small croissant, which is not necessarily a criticism; if it contains enough butter, small can be perfectly formed. I don't doubt some has been involved in the manufacturing process, but sadly I can't detect it in the finished product. The ends are so dry I have to reach for a glass of water, while the middle is bready, with a faintly sweet, but fairly neutral flavour. Butter and jam would be required to eat a whole one. £2.25 for six at Tesco£2.25 for six at Waitrose★☆☆☆☆ All the definition of a croissant emoji, but none of the colour, this reminds me of a runty version of a croissant-shaped dog toy I used to keep finding in my bed. No layers, just soft, chewy dough with a weirdly caramelised flavour. Tastes long-life, processed and unpleasant – I don't get the point of these, sorry. They remind me of something you might be given for breakfast on a long-haul flight, right down to the individual plastic wrapping.
