Documentary first. I photograph your wedding as it actually happens, which means the speech that goes off the rails, your mate's face during the vows, and the hug that lasts slightly too long. No shot list running your timeline, no staged do-overs, no "do that again but look at me." If something real happens, I'm already there. I'm annoyingly good at being already there.

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I grew up on the early-2000s Kerrang era, still go to the festivals, and remain convinced Make Yourself is a perfect album. I mention this because it tends to matter: if your wedding has more black in the dress code than your families expected, we're going to get along.

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Skipping the group-photo marathon? Getting married in a field? Good. Keep the traditions you love and bin the ones that mean nothing to you. My only stake is that you chose.

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And I shouldn't need to spell it out, but: whoever you're marrying, I'd love to be there.

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You've probably read fifty photographer bios claiming to be a fly on the wall. In practice it means most of the day you won't notice me, and when you want portraits we make them fast. Minutes, not an hour, then you're back with your people. You get the wall-worthy photos without spending your wedding making them. My teenage daughter maintains I have never once been cool. She hasn't seen me work a dance floor at midnight. (She has. She'd like it on record that this proves her point.)

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I'm allowed to be soppy about exactly one thing: the moment a couple sees their photos and gets a bit of the day back. That's the whole point of me, and it's a ridiculous privilege.