Bikini-clad Stacey Solomon hits back at trolls questioning her husband Joe Swash's whereabouts as they enjoy a family holiday at a swanky £1k-per-night hotel in Turkey
The Loose Women star, 35, has been soaking up the sun with her five children at the Regnum Carya hotel, and has posted various snaps from the trip on Instagram.
But despite previously sharing a sweet family snap with her spouse on the holiday, Stacey took to her Stories on Sunday to clarify that Joe was with her on the trip.
The star posted a loved-up snap with her husband, writing: 'For everyone asking... of course Joe's here, but we have five kids so anyone with kids knows you're always on split shifts. Here's a rare photo of us from last night.'
Hours earlier, Stacey showed off her figure in a plunging yellow bikini as she enjoyed a ride on a rubber ring going down a water slide.
The star admitted she was hoping to avoid washing her hair by using heatless curlers, and it proved to be a success as she displayed her bouncy waves in her hotel room later in the evening.
Hours earlier, Stacey showed off her figure in a plunging yellow bikini as she enjoyed a ride on a rubber ring going down a water slide
Stacey is currently away with her husband Joe Swash, 43, as well as their children, Rex, five, Rose, three, and Belle, two, as well as Stacey's older sons Zachary, 17, and Leighton, 12, from two previous relationships.
Stacey and Joe have long been regulars at Regnum Carya, where prices begin at £1,000 per night.
Prior to her meal at Nikos, she had a girly day with daughters Belle and Rose, with the trio all wearing matching outfits.
It comes after Stacey's sister Jemma opened up about her lifelong struggle to gain weight, as she showed off her remarkable body transformation.
The entrepreneur, who is well known as the 'Label Lady' for her bespoke labels company, has long been honest about her struggles with her body image.
Taking to Instagram on Monday, Jemma shared before-and-after snaps of her weight gain, as she described the transformation as being her 'hardest journey yet'.
Alongside the post, she penned: '54kg looks good on me.
'As cringy as a mirror selfie is, and believe me I don't have many. It really does make me realise how far I have come! (Scroll to the end)
'And now I am finally gaining weight it time to turn that weight into muscle and get stronger.
'I don't really have an end weight goal, I've never been in the 8 stone weight bracket! So that alone is an achievement I'm so proud of!
'But I do want to be able to run a 5k run without the fear of the end … you all know what I mean!
'And be able to do weights consistently and comfortably so it becomes a part of my routine.
'I know I ramble on and share lot do this journey but it's been the hardest one yet but I am seeing change!
'And starting to feel it too ♥️ for too long I've been told either how lucky I am to be skinny, or how I look like I need to eat a burger.
'Now I'm going to start being proud and happy with my body and making it the best strongest version I can for ME.'
She continued: 'Anyway if you made it this far thanks for reading, thanks for championing me and pushing me each time I share a video of me working out and making myself stronger.
Hashtags
Try Our AI Features
Explore what Daily8 AI can do for you:
Comments
No comments yet...
Related Articles
Telegraph
28 minutes ago
- Telegraph
‘I was tricked into eating dog': Travel writers reveal their worst-ever holiday meals
Culinary experiences are often the highlight of a holiday. We're thinking of Seville's atmospheric tapas bars, sun-soaked (and cat-filled) Greek island tavernas and aperitivo hour in Milan. But they can also serve up the lowest of lowlights; gut-churning moments that linger in the memory for a lifetime. Here, seven of our well-travelled writers reveal the worst meal they've ever eaten abroad. 'I was tricked into eating dog' Living in a small Chinese city in my early 20s, I ate all manner of excellent foods: steaming hand-pulled noodles; five-spice smothered meat skewers; thick hotpots; piles of morning glory spiked through with chillies and black sauce. I would eat anything put in front of me – with just one exception: dog meat. A traditional winter delicacy, in the colder months you'd often see – on a long table, alongside other huge plates of raw fare from which customers could pick – a dish of meat with, frequently, the front paws laid across its edge as proof. I am a dog lover – at the time, I even had a dog whose breed hailed from Tibet. There was no way I was going to feast on one of his – or any dog's – relatives. My Chinese friends found this comical: you eat every other animal, they'd say (and I had); why not this one? So one evening, as we gathered around a big communal table, they conspired. Beer and baijiu flowed, the huge glass lazy Susan spun, and finally, without realising, I ended up picking at an unfamiliar meat. A howl of laughter erupted – 'it's dog! You ate dog!'. Wary not to cause offence, I shook my head and laughed along – but the chewy, beef-ish meat in my mouth tasted like ashes, and I've never really forgiven myself. Gemma Knight-Gilani 'It had the aroma of an overflowing urinal' I like to think I've eaten pretty much everything that walks, crawls, slithers or even just hangs there harmlessly in the ocean bothering nobody. (The latter was whale blubber, in Greenland – so glutinously, gelatinously fatty that I may have expended more calories trying to gnaw it than I gained digesting it; the former was 'Foraged Cornish Ants' in, of all places, posh Surrey country-house hotel Beaverbrook.) Only one dish has ever defeated me, in fact: hákarl, the Icelandic 'delicacy' (because 'vomitacy' is not a word) made from poisonous shark buried in sand until it starts to putrefy. Its high urea content gives it an aroma almost exactly like that of an overflowing urinal, and it tastes every bit as good as it smells. Worse still is the texture: smooth but chewy, so that as you gag – and you will gag – you're not sure if it's in your mouth on the way down or the way back up. 'It's ok', said the waiter, collecting my barely-touched plate, 'not even Icelanders actually eat it.' Ed Grenby 'The giant carcass was covered in a thick layer of grey jelly – which quivered as the elderly restaurant owner shuffled it over' As soon as I saw the chicken, I knew I'd made a terrible mistake. It lay sprawled on a platter, legs and wings akimbo, its giant carcass covered in a thick layer of grey jelly – which quivered as the elderly restaurant owner shuffled it over. There was no doubt it was for us: my then-boyfriend and I were the only two diners, watched over by a stern official from the Taiwan tourist board, our 'minder' for the entire stay. We were bog-eyed from the 14-hour flight, and when I'd spotted braised chicken on the menu it had sounded so comforting amid this bizarre scenario – nothing like the fridge-cold, ashen hunk of flesh and fat before me. The owner and official lingered at the tableside, and I forced a weak smile. But by the time I'd forced down two mouthfuls, I was in the danger zone. There was no way I could manage another, let alone finish the beast. 'I just can't…', I murmured to my boyfriend. Spotting my pallor, he wordlessly slid the platter to his side of the table and started to work, giving our companions a thumbs-up for good measure. I knew at that moment that he would be the man I'd marry – and he was. You can keep your diamonds, your roses: the man ate the chicken for me. It was so horrendous, that not even the chicken anus skewer I mistakenly tried a few days later eclipsed it – but that's another story... Hazel Plush 'I came home a stone lighter' Everyone we knew who'd gone to Cuba had a culinary horror story to tell, so we played it safe at a reassuringly expensive rooftop restaurant on our first night in Havana. We were young lovers and the setting was suitably romantic. Candles flickered in the Caribbean breeze as the old town twinkled below us and salsa drifted from a nearby club. A perfect evening, and then the food arrived. On first inspection, my chicken looked – if anything – carcinogenic, its charred skin evoking memories of 1980s barbecues. Inside, though, it was all blood and raw flesh, a red sea of salmonella, prompting the inevitable 'a good vet…' joke. Only getting decent food in Cuba is no laughing matter. Having initially claimed that the chicken was cooked, the waiter agreed to source a replacement, which turned out to be the same raw piece of mutilated meat, just flipped over. We left hungry, with no apology, paying only for booze. I'd dodged a bullet, but it was an omen. Days later I was floored by food poisoning so violent it made me nostalgic for Delhi belly. I came home a stone lighter with a culinary horror story of my own. Gavin Haines 'We chomped for what seemed like hours attempting to get through the gristle without retching' Okinawa remains one of my favourite places in the world. This is the island that opened my eyes to emoji-shaped fireworks, lilting sanshin music and Japan 's incredible underwater world. Being adventurous about food meant I indulged in the local crispy pigs ears and purple potato ice cream too – and both were delicious. But everyone has a line. And mine was firmly crossed when I found myself facing a plate of giant sea snails, each bigger than my fist and served in its shell, without a whiff of garlic or butter to mask its gelatinous ooze. These molluscs (also known as Turban Shells) were the star turn in a meal put on by the tourist board for visiting journalists, all of whom were far too polite to decline the dish. So on we chomped, for what seemed like several hours, attempting to get through the gristle without retching over each other. Thank goodness for the Asahi, which not only helped wash them down but also rendered me drunker with every mouthful. Amanda Hyde 'In less time than it takes to tell, there was more of me outside than in' I've had more run-ins with street food stands than you'll care to read about. Worst of all followed the eating of a chicken tamale in a small town outside Orizaba in Mexico. I was seeking traces of my Lancastrian grandfather, who'd had a textile business there decades before. And I was snacking because I'd lost much of my money. An exuberant pickpocket had squeezed in next to me on the bus, chatted gaily and got off with my cash. Initially tasty, the tamale counterattacked a couple of hours later, as I wandered the town. I hadn't booked a hotel, so had no room to return to. There was, though, a park nearby with, thank the Lord, tall, shielding tropical vegetation. In less time than it takes to tell, there was more of me outside than in. I collapsed on a park bench. A young shoe shine boy approached. Could he shine my shoes? No, I said, and if he didn't move briskly, he'd have more than shoes to clean. 'You're unwell,' he said. I nodded, and dashed once more for the bushes. 'Follow me,' he said. I staggered off behind him. Some minutes later we arrived at a white-washed, one-storey house. The young man went in and returned with his mother, Maria. She took me into a tiny bedroom at the back where I stayed for three days and nights, attended by Maria with bottled water and towels. As soon as I could move, I left. Maria, naturally, would take no money. She gave me to understand that looking after people was what women like her did. I left what cash I had left at the local grocery store, that Maria's next shop might be subsidised. And I wonder: if a random, exploding Mexican turned up at my house, would I be so unquestioningly generous? I hope so, I really do. Anthony Peregrine 'We dined in silence on rubbery gizzards' Over the years, I've had disgusting dinners across the world – from fried mopane worms in Namibia to confit of cow's udder at a gourmet restaurant in Bogota. Top of the gut-wrenching charts, however, was a Madagascan Christmas meal at a hostel in the highlands. Boiled more brutally than a Tudor-era traitor, my chicken had long passed on to several next lives. Rubbery gizzards were washed down with 'burned rice tea' – a fancy name for spent water used to soak old iron pots. Dining in silence, we listened to rusty church bells peel as beetles sizzled to death in blinding strip lights overhead. But food is only 50 per cent of a memorable dining experience. That night, my partner and I stayed in separate single-sex dorms wondering who might be first to barricade the loo. While I slept soundly, he was kept up by an elderly traveller farting and ranting about spies from MI5. The following morning, the old man shrugged off his unsociable behaviour, retorting: 'It must have been something I ate.'
Times
an hour ago
- Times
Scott Mills: ‘I can't even put up an ironing board'
Home is a place where I can be silent. People think that if you are in radio, particularly music-based radio, that you'll want to hear music all the time. I actually don't want to hear anything. After getting up at 4am then speaking to guests for three hours of high-adrenaline interaction live on air, I'm tired. My husband, Sam, often comes home and says, 'Why are you just sat in silence without the TV or radio on?' I love it, but it's draining. Where is home for you now? I lived in various places in London, all the way up to Covid. After that I moved to Hertfordshire. We now live in a new-build house in a quiet little cul-de-sac in the Rickmansworth area. What's the vibe? We're both quite tidy, so it's very modern and pared-back. I don't like clutter. We're aiming for that Scandinavian minimalist vibe. Hygge is the goal, so there are candles galore. I like Diptyque's Baies scent. When people say, 'This is the best-smelling house I've ever been in,' it brings me absolute joy. I came back home recently after a week in Switzerland for Eurovision and it still smelt banging. How different is your home today from the one you grew up in? I grew up in a semi-detached house on a nondescript housing estate in Eastleigh, Hampshire. Lovely, but nothing to write home about. When my mum visits from Southampton she loves the busy feel of the house, but I sense she thinks it's too modern. She wants me to have a pine dresser. Everything in my mum's house was, is and always has been pine. My dad owned a removal company and virtually lived in his van. This was before mobile phones, so it must have been quite isolating and not great for his mental health. But it's actually the complete opposite for me. My work life is so full-on that the prospect of escaping for a few hours in a van where no one can contact me is quite appealing. I remember being about ten and him saying, 'Maybe you could take over the family business,' and me thinking, absolutely not, I'm going to pursue my dream of being on the radio. What has owning your own home taught you about yourself? I'm not flash or extravagant. I know people — who shall remain nameless — who have grand pianos, but that's not me. I'm happy being low-key, although I have graduated from buying the cheapest black ash furniture from Argos to stuff that actually lasts. I can now see the point of buying Le Creuset pans with handles that don't fall off after two days. All I have on my walls are family photos, photos of our wedding and photos of us with our cavapoo, Teddy. 'I now see the point of buying Le Creuset pans,' Mills says ALAMY Any art? I don't understand art and I don't partake in it. I don't get it. A friend bought me some art for my birthday recently and it's in the garage. What can I say? I'm just basic. Do you host many celebrity dinner parties? No. I was much more sociable before the pandemic. I used to have massive Halloween parties at the Finsbury Park house I lived in before. One year Susanna Reid was there — not in fancy dress — Rob Rinder, Ollie Locke from Made in Chelsea came dressed as Superman, Emily Atack, Caroline Flack, then all the X Factor lot turned up with my friend Nick Grimshaw. I remember walking into the upstairs cinema room at about 2am and Rita Ora was doing karaoke to one of her own songs. The internet was buffering, so she'd be halfway through one of her big hits and Grimmy would be standing there shouting, 'What's the wi-fi password?' It was absolute chaos. It's more likely to be Alan and Sarah from next door now, or some of my BBC colleagues like Vernon Kay and Jeremy Vine might still make it to the table. Does your suburban life include copious DIY projects? God no. That's Sam's territory. I have no logic. I can't even put up an ironing board. And don't get me started on deckchairs. Mills during his early days at Radio 1 GILL FLETT/BBC How highbrow are you culturally? My absolute chillout watch right now is Bargain-Loving Brits in the Sun. Check it out. I'm obsessed. There are books in the house, too, but they're Sam's as he's a bookworm. There are piles of them everywhere, which is actually disturbing my minimalist vibe. He tries to make me read but it's not going to happen. There's nothing there. Are you the most famous person in the area? Absolutely not. I was in the local dry cleaner recently and I spotted a bag of clothes with a very exciting label on: 'The Kemps, Martin and Shirlie'. After some Instagram investigation of their home renovations, I've worked out exactly how close to me they live. Without giving too much away, they have gates and a tennis court. If I was to accrue the riches of a 1980s pop star, who knows, maybe we could be even closer neighbours.
Daily Mail
3 hours ago
- Daily Mail
Baby joy! Neighbours star Bonnie Anderson welcomes second child with husband Samuel Morrison
Former Neighbours star Bonnie Anderson has welcomed her second child. The actress and singer, 30, announced on Wednesday that she and husband Samuel Morrison had welcomed a son into their growing family. Bonnie posted a series of sweet photos of her newborn wrapped in a blanket to Instagram and revealed they had named him Teddy. 'Teddy James Morrison. We welcomed our second baby boy into the world and we could not be more in love, especially his big brother Bobby,' she wrote. Many of her celebrity friends flocked to the comments to congratulate the couple on their new arrival. 'Perfection!!! So happy for you guys,' Love Island star Anna McEvoy said. 'Omg he's beautiful. Congratulations guys xx,' Abbey Holmes commented. 'Aw look at what you made! ! Welcome to the world little Teddy! You are perfect and your folks are so clever! Just beautiful sending you all so much love,' singer Dannielle De Andrea said. Bonnie revealed back in February that she and her husband Samuel were expecting again. The Australia's Got Talent star took to Instagram to share a video that featured her showing off her baby bump as she strolled on the beach with Samuel and son Bobby, two. 'Bobby's going to be a big brother,' she captioned the sweet video. 'We are beyond grateful for the new adventure. Thank you for capturing these moments of the four of us.' Bonnie's post was met with an outpouring of congratulations from friends and followers. Former Home and Away star Jodi Gordon offered: 'Aweeee congratulations beautiful woman, this is so exciting!! Sending you all my love xxxx.' Fellow Neighbours alum and mum-of-seven Madeline West also chimed in with a heartfelt: 'Congratulations, honey!!!' She followed the post with a second that showed her flaunting her baby bump in a white, off-the-shoulder midriff top and matching skirt. 'I feel so blessed to be expecting our second child,' Bonnie wrote. 'As much as I want to shout this to the rooftops with excitement, I am also mindful of everyone's journey to parenthood. So much love to everybody!' In a subsequent post, celebrating the new arrival's gender reveal, Bonnie admitted she was convinced she was having a girl. 'Some sweet details from our gender reveal over the weekend,' she wrote at the time. 'Although I thought I was carrying a girl and was completely shocked, I am very excited and blessed to be a boy mumma. It's wild to think I'll have two cheeky boys come mid-year!!' Bonnie and Samuel welcomed their first child, Bobby, in December 2022. After announcing her pregnancy, the singer told The Morning Show that carrying a child felt 'weird' at the start, but she's excited for what's to come. 'The beginning was all sorts of weird feelings. Just your body changing, everything changing,' she told hosts Matt Doran and Kylie Gillies. 'It's been really nice this last week. I've got my mojo back.' Bonnie and her fiancé Sam initially didn't want to know the gender of their baby, but she later changed her mind. 'We do know [the gender], but we're going to keep it for a little bit between us. Who knows, I might unleash the news soon,' she said. Bonnie played Bea Nilsson on long-running soap Neighbours from 2018 to 2021. During her stint on Neighbours, Bonnie also took on the role of the Bushranger in the second season of The Masked Singer Australia, eventually winning the series. She rose to fame at the tender age of 12 after becoming the first winner of reality series Australia's Got Talent in 2007.
