"Love creates the stories. Life fills them with memories. A great ceremony simply brings them to life."
I'm one of those people who genuinely enjoys sitting down with someone and asking questions.
How did you two meet?
Who made the first move?
When did you realise this was actually serious?
What's the story your partner desperately hopes you won't tell me?
Or perhaps we're meeting for a very different reason.
Tell me about your dad. Your mum. Your partner. Your best friend.
What made them laugh? What drove everyone mad about them? What song did they always turn up far too loud? What did they say that the whole family can still hear them saying?
That's the stuff I'm interested in.
Because whether we're celebrating two people starting the next chapter of their lives or saying goodbye to someone whose story has reached its end, I don't believe a ceremony should ever feel like somebody else's words with a few names changed.
It should feel like you.
How do you actually want your wedding to feel?
Romantic? Emotional? Relaxed? Funny? Completely bonkers?
Maybe all five.
Want your dog involved? Absolutely.
Want to get married halfway up a mountain? I'll bring my walking boots.
Want to include the embarrassing story of how you actually met rather than the version you tell your grandparents?
Now we're talking.
It's your relationship, your people and your story.
So let's create a ceremony that couldn't possibly belong to anybody else.
Not just where they were born, where they worked and the dates that appeared on official documents.
I want the stories.
The adventures. The mistakes. The achievements. The terrible jokes. The weird habits. The things everybody loved about them — and perhaps one or two of the things that drove everybody up the wall.
Because although funerals are incredibly sad occasions, remembering someone doesn't have to be entirely sad.
There can be laughter amongst the tears.
There should be.
My job is to listen to the people who knew them best and create a ceremony that makes everyone in that room think:
“Yep. That was them.”
I'm a celebrant, but I'm also a filmmaker, storyteller and keynote speaker.
I've spent years looking for the details that make a story worth listening to — and I've realised those details rarely come from a list of facts.
They come from conversations.
Sometimes around a kitchen table. Sometimes over a coffee. Sometimes through laughter, and sometimes through tears.
I'll ask questions. I'll listen. I'll probably go off on the occasional tangent with you.
And somewhere amongst all of that, we'll find your story.
Then it's my responsibility to tell it with warmth, honesty, humour when it's right — and the respect it deserves.
Because ultimately, that's what being a celebrant means to me.
Not just conducting a ceremony.