I grew up on a little council estate on the edge of Nottingham in the 70s and 80s. I'm gay, neurodivergent and mixed heritage, so I've spent a fair bit of my life noticing who gets included, who gets overlooked and what it feels like when somewhere genuinely makes room for you.

In my other working life, I run an inclusion and culture consultancy, helping organisations create places where different kinds of people can flourish.

So inclusion isn't a badge I've stuck on my celebrant website. It's work I've spent years learning how to do well.

I was really fortunate to get married to my big American bear of a man in Chicago. Our celebrant was a beautiful, witchy, lesbian friend of ours, and we got to have the perfect beachside wedding, overlooking Chicago.

Later that evening we got our first dance in the bar that we met.

Our wedding day had just the right amount of ritual and performance, my mum and Joel’s sister did readings, we wrote our own vows, while our friends stood in a big circle holding hands around us.

And then we carried out a little sand ritual on the beach, just the two of us. It was perfect.

A big part of wanting to become a celebrant myself was about wanting to create those kinds of moments for people who might struggle to find them in a traditional church wedding environment.

I know from my own experiences within the Catholic Church, that people like me often aren't provided for. And I think everybody deserves a wedding that feels right for them. Getting to be your authentic self on your wedding day should be a no-brainer!

I want to help people create the perfect ceremony for them, that brings together and recognises their loved ones, their tribe, that has magical moments that say ‘this is what we’re about, this is our story and what we want for our relationship together’.

I think it’s a real honour and a gift to get to do that for people.