Holding space for life’s most sacred thresholds with empathy, creativity, and joy.

I believe that the best ceremonies aren't written from a template - they are woven from real, lived human experience.

My home is in Leicestershire, where life is a vibrant blend of music, movement, and hands-on creativity. On any given week, you might find me on the dance floor lost in the rhythm of salsa, singing with my local choirs, or on stage with an amateur operatic society. Creativity is a thread that runs through everything I do; I am also a potter, often crafting bespoke ceramics to bring a tangible, handmade element into the rituals I lead.

When it comes to ceremonies, I know first-hand what it means when things don't go strictly to plan. My own wedding took place on a beach in Cuba - a long story short, a booking error meant we missed out on the grand hotel ceremony and instead found ourselves listening to a registrar conduct our service entirely in Spanish, depending completely on a translator for every word! It taught me that the essence of a ceremony isn't found in perfection, but in presence, authenticity, and heart.

Life, however, is a tapestry of profound light and deep shadow. Six years ago, I became a widow when my husband passed away, and over the years I have walked through the painful landscape of losing several close family members. I have also experienced the quiet, fierce devotion of home-educating my child - a journey of love, advocacy, and pride that saw them step into their true authentic identity and go on to study at Oxford University.

I chose to become a celebrant because I know what it feels like to navigate love, grief, transformation, and identity. Whether we are reclaiming a name, celebrating a love story, welcoming a child, or saying a gentle goodbye, my role is simple: to offer my empathy, to bring comfort, and to create a safe, compassionate container where your story can be held with the dignity and beauty it deserves.