The things that have shaped the celebrant I am today...

If you've landed here from my About page, hello again!

As you probably already know, I'm Lisa, lead celebrant of Celebrant in Cornwall - and if we're going to spend months planning your ceremony together, meeting for coffee, swapping stories, and eventually standing side by side on one of the biggest days of your life, it feels fair that you know a little more about me than the smiley photos and carefully chosen words on my website.

So… here goes.

Nearly 40 years of choosing the same person

I've been married to my one true love for 27 years, and we've actually been together for 37. (Yes, I know. I can't possibly be old enough. Thank you for thinking it.)

We are sometimes asked what the secret is. Which makes me a bit uncomfortable, because it sounds as if we're supposed to have discovered the answer to marriage, and we really haven't. We've just... kept choosing each other.

Some years have been easier than others. We've had times when life has ticked along beautifully and times when it's kept us well and truly on our toes. We've annoyed each other, laughed a lot, worried about things we couldn't control, and celebrated things we never saw coming.

One thing I’ve learned over the years is that people don't stand still. We all change. The person I married at twenty-something isn't the same man who spends most nights disagreeing with me about what to have for dinner. 

Thank goodness.

I honestly think that's one of the nicest things about growing older together. Every so often you realise you've quietly fallen in love with another version of the same person. I never get tired of that.

Perhaps that's one of the reasons celebrancy felt like such a good fit for me. A wedding isn't really about reaching a finish line. It's about standing in front of the people who matter most and saying, "Out of everyone in the world... it's still you."

I can't think of many better things to witness.

I have a bit of a thing about rescue cats

Being vegan, I'm a complete sucker for animals. (Don't worry. Your menu choices are entirely between you and your caterer.)

For years, my husband and I volunteered at an animal shelter. We helped care for cats and kittens who'd had a difficult start in life until they were ready for their forever homes. That was the plan, anyway. Unsurprisingly, quite a few of them decided their forever home was ours. (I'm clearly not very good at saying goodbye.)

I loved those times, ‘though. Not because every story had a happy ending – sadly, they didn't – but because they taught me so much. That trust can't be rushed, for one thing. That some cats wanted a fuss the minute they arrived, while others hid for a fortnight and looked deeply offended every time a human walked past. Eventually, most of them decided people weren't all bad. Just not immediately.

I've always thought people are a bit like that, too. Some people will tell me their whole life story within ten minutes of meeting me. Others will take a little longer. Both are absolutely fine – I've never believed there's a right way to get to know someone.

As for me, I'll almost certainly ask far too many questions, and we'll definitely get a fit of the giggles at some point. And along the way you'll remember a story you'd forgotten about until I asked, and it'll probably end up as the highlight of your ceremony because those little stories are nearly always the best ones.

They're the bits that make everyone smile and think, "That's so them."

Give me fresh air, a good view... and a decent pub

Given the choice between a spa day and pulling on my walking boots, I'll choose the walking boots every time. Partly because I love being outside. Partly because I live in Cornwall and it seems a shame not to. And partly because walks might end with a nice cappuccino and – if we’re really lucky – chocolate cake. Or a decent pub, if we've been particularly energetic.

We've solved an awful lot of the world's problems on a footpath. I don't mean in an inspirational-Instagram-quote kind of way – I just find that if I've got something rattling around my head, it usually feels a bit more manageable after an hour outside. Unless we're walking uphill – then I'm mostly thinking about whether we're going to end up in a pub.

I think ceremonies do something similar. For a little while everyone stops rushing. Nobody's checking emails. Nobody's thinking about the mountain of washing-up they left at home or the overgrown flowerbeds that still need weeding. Everyone's just... there.

It's surprisingly rare these days.

A lady wearing a woolly hat is sat iouside a coastal pub with two beers on the table in front of her

My happy place has tomatoes in it

I have a veggie patch. Now, before you imagine perfectly straight rows of leeks and carrots, let me stop you. It's wonderfully imperfect. Reg and Greg, our favourite pigeons, have a free pass to the greenhouse. The resident squirrels seem to think I grow strawberries exclusively for them. And every year something different refuses to grow for reasons known only to nature.

But I love it. There's something so very satisfying about planting tiny seeds, giving them time, attention, and a bit of encouragement, then standing back to see what they become. (Or, occasionally, wondering where on earth it all went wrong.)

And I still get ridiculously excited by the first tomato. The first potato. The bunch of sweet peas I pick for my mum. The cucumbers I end up giving to the neighbours because once again I've grown far too many. Every. Single. Year. And I know I could buy all those things in the supermarket, but they're nowhere near as good.

I think that's probably why I enjoy writing ceremonies so much. They don't appear overnight; they grow organically through conversations, cups of coffee, emails, rewrites, and all those little stories that gradually become something that couldn't belong to anybody else.

I've never liked "because that's how it's always been done"

It’s been said many a time that I do have a “slightly” rebellious streak. It's nothing too dramatic – I will still merge in turn, thank bus drivers for the journey, and always apologise when someone else bumps into me. But if I am told that something has to be done a certain way simply because it's always been done that way, I will ask awkward questions…

That's probably why becoming an independent celebrant suited me. Every couple is different, so it stands to reason every ceremony should be too. Some ceremonies may embrace tradition, and some may have none at all. Some will include children, dogs, grandparents, singing, hand-tying, tequila shots, and the bumps… but not necessarily in that order.

My point is that your ceremony shouldn't sound or feel like somebody else's – it should sound and feel like you. So if that means keeping traditions you love – brilliant. If it means leaving some behind – that's fine too. And if it means inventing something completely new because it feels right for the two of you, I’ll be there cheering you on from the sidelines.

So... what sort of celebrant am I?

Hopefully the sort who makes you feel comfortable enough to be completely yourself. The sort who notices the little things, because they're usually the big things. The sort who quietly keeps everything ticking along while you're busy having one of the best days of your life.

I'm also the sort who unapologetically wears her heart on her sleeve. If your story moves me, there's a fair chance I'll need a discreet slow blink before carrying on. Because I've never really embraced the idea that we're supposed to hide our feelings or apologise for them. Life's biggest moments are supposed to move us.

And just FYI, I'm not interested in writing the most dramatic/funny/lyrical ceremony anyone's ever heard, either. I'm interested in writing the one that sounds so much like you that the people who love you most smile at one another and think, "Yes... that's exactly them." Because, in the end, that's what I think ceremonies are all about.

Life is made up of ordinary moments that become extraordinary because of the people we share them with.

I think ceremonies should feel exactly the same.

If you've read this far... ...thank you. Hopefully you know a little more about me than you did ten minutes ago.

If you're looking for a celebrant who'll take the time to get to know you, notice the little things and create a ceremony that feels completely and unapologetically yours...

I'd love to meet you.

👉 Let's have a chat