Cornwall Wedding Photography : Anna & Tony


Life is an ocean and love is a boat
In troubled waters that keeps us afloat
When we started the voyage, there was just me and you
Now gathered round us we have our own crew

Christy Moore’s The Voyage – written by Johnny Duhan

Some people say that
The Navajo know
A way of walking
Quite high above the ground
Fearless of looking down

Pixies’ The Navajo Know – written by Charles Thompson


In a quiet corner of North Cornwall – An Tiredh Uhel – down and up, up and down narrow, winding, undulating lanes lays a hidden valley shrouded in trees; a really rather magical place, as is the county it hides itself away within. From a city without county a hundred miles and forty more to the north-east travelled a couple and their two young sons. An accompanying host of family and friends descended from near and from far to witness that couple’s vows to each other, their marriage, and they would celebrate a wedding day the story of which will go on to form a rich seam in the family’s narrative for a great many years to come.


Anna & Tony, accompanied by two admirable young men, their sons Jake and Mani, came to Tregildrans Quarry and the site of Cornish Tipi Weddings in a convoy replete with the results of a great many months of dreams, of imagination, of planning and of hard work, much yet to be done on the eve of their wedding and on the morning to come, plenty of hiccups and stresses along the way as come with the preparation of most such days but the passion and mettle to see it all to fruition with the sympathetic hands of loved ones that laboured alongside them.

I came, bags packed with epic excitement, head packed with epic excitement, those and my heart too, to observe, to witness and to relate their story through the means that I do. I saved enough room in my bags for some cameras and such stuff as well, which is all for the good, considering. There are certain constants and certain variables to my practice. The variables are as variable as the weddings that I’m privileged to photograph, the people that make them (though I’m so, so lucky to find certain constants in these), the environments they take place within and the conditions under which each day unfolds. The most constant of constants is that I seek to deliver a solidly professional service regardless of the variables but I do like to enjoy myself along the way too. Of course I do. Who wouldn’t? And enjoy myself I oh so thoroughly did, once again. Feeling socially integrated within what is a highly elevated social occasion turns a wedding, for me, from observational pleasure to communal treasure and I came away from this journey that little bit richer for what I experienced. Anna & Tony really were a joy to work with. They had been from first enquiry through meeting them in person some months before the wedding right through to the point at which I set myself off back again in the direction of home, feeling as though I were leaving what had become another home behind me. Home is where the heart is. The metaphorical heart can be distributed though without diminishing its strength. Indeed I think it can be strengthened in the sharing.

And the people they came together with on that day, across that weekend! Jake and Mani I’d also already met; utterly superb characters too. Then their loved ones. I saw complete sense in the heritage of their bonds. All were a pleasure to be amongst and to spend time with, to talk with. From morning breakfast in the Yurt Café, meeting and conversing with Jennie from Edinburgh, there to celebrate Anna & Tony’s marriage with her son and his girlfriend from Canada. I enjoyed so much hearing the philosophy that whilst the community of family and of long-term friends are all important there is also significance in the cumulative community of chance meetings, ones that may well never be individually repeated, and the sharing of time and of ideas (and here’s that article that I mentioned, Jennie, perhaps best read through a prism of metaphorical playfulness; one embedded in the visor of a crash helmet at that :~). Then through to the very close of the day, the early hours of the morning, when in the porch of the marquee Jim from Birmingham spontaneously started singing to me in Hindi, a song so, so beautifully sung that I was moved to cajole him into singing to Anna. I imagine Jim squirming with bashful embarrassment at this juncture. “No? I didn’t? Did I?… It wasn’t me!” It was though, and it was a thing of beauty; a thing I’d always hope to remember. Between both those extremes of the day, a great many more rewarding encounters and conversations again.

Back though to the evening of my arrival.

I turned up to first of all find Anna & Tony’s friend, Jasmine, perched on a hay bale outside the marquee hand-lettering wedding day signs that had been made by Anna’s dad. I also encountered and photographed aspects of a hive of activity within the marquee itself but Brevity being my middle name when it comes to my blogging persona (no seriously) they’ll all come to follow, once edited, in the not-so-brief gallery…


At every wedding that I’ve attended, I’ve thought of it as being about the gathering of the tribes, almost (though not quite… quite) as much as its being about what is obviously the central aspect of such an event, the fundamental reason that the tribes have gathered together. When you’re in a field dotted with tipis within which the people all around you will be sleeping though, such a metaphor almost seems in danger of reducing itself to a feeble pun but you know what? Why not? This was to be another gathering of the tribes and what environment more apt? :~)


Dunc the fontmeister’s beautifully handwritten sign transcribed and related the plan that Anna had penned for the day to come…


As sunset approached, I decided it was time to gather what I needed for a good night’s sleep…


And set about preparing my bedroom for the night…


(Actually, Anna & Tony had very kindly arranged for me to stay in a pre-erected and swaddled Tipi, which was very exciting indeed! :~)


Red sky at night… It’s a true thing too, say the Met office. Not that I required official confirmation having lived a rural childhood but I was searching for information on types of red sky at night to see if I could find out if there were actually… types that reliably indicated good weather come the morn and others that bore clues to the contrary. I didn’t search far though before being drawn back by the call of the blog. I almost never look at the weather forecast in the lead up to a wedding. This may seem – to some, even maybe to many – at odds with the professional nature of my practice. I have strong reason for this, though. Worry never fixed anything; only appropriate action can do so and I always come prepared, mentally, practically and through experience for a full gamut of variability in conditions anyway. I’ll do what I do to the standard that I do so, regardless. When the ceremony is set to take place outdoors though, I will check the weather forecast, though not with any notion of becoming worried should things not look as though you’d wish for them to be, but in order to be able to start projecting some good weather vibes in the right direction. I had the BBC weather Web site open in a tab in my Internet browser permanently throughout the week in the lead up to Anna & Tony’s wedding. I checked it twice daily. Then thrice daily. Then come the Thursday, quite possibly on an hourly basis. I observed, not with worry but with concern (yes the two are each synonyms for the other, but worry is something that I don’t abide by for myself – I had no worries regarding what I would be doing – concern is something that I do feel for the welfare of those that have invested in me) as forecasts of rain expanded through the hourly slots allocated across the Saturday. On the advice of a friend with years of travel and outdoor television filming experience under his belt, I resorted to the Norwegian Weather Service, kept open in a neighbouring browser tab. Indeed they provide highly detailed forecasts for UK locales. Come the Friday morning, shortly before I was due to set off on the road from Dorset to Cornwall, I posted a link on Facebook to the weather forecast for the area that Anna & Tony’s wedding was to take place in along with a call for some crowdsourced focusing of good weather vibes with a particular focus on the ceremony time.

I’ll do a personal sun-dance for your wedding :~) I might not check the weather forecast, but I will do a sun-dance. I’ll also ask everyone that I know to do one, if it’s critically centred around the outdoors.

Anyway… Red sky at night…


I climbed into my tipi and wrapped myself up in my bedding at 10.00pm. I knew that I’d be waking up with the light – more so again that I’d be awoken by the dawn chorus – so I thought it best to go to sleep in parallel with the light of day. A good seven hours sleep, maybe even eight if I was lucky; that would set me up well for a day full of excitement and outpouring of energy. It was cosy in my tipi :~)

I lay there a while listening to the sounds outside, of children running and playing, of friends catching up with each other, the gathering of the tribes; the sound of guitar and song around camp fires; I felt as though I were in a village, a tipi village, it was really a beautiful thing.

Now, if not a dawn chorus directly on the other side of canvas, I’ll sleep through a thunderstorm if I’m already asleep before it manifests itself. Invariably. Truly. I think though I was enjoying too much those village sounds and I lay there just appreciating the ambience, assuming that sleep would come soon enough. Eventually. At some point in the near future. Any… time… now. Then it was midnight and the tribes parted their ways for a good night’s sleep. “Six hours,” I thought to myself, “That will prove perfectly adequate.”

Then by 1.00am the small sub-gathering that had lingered on, out under the stars (or whatever the sky was offering up for display by that juncture) bedded down for the night. I’ve fared perfectly well on five hours sleep on countless occasions.

Then at 1.00am a cow in the neighbouring field started mooing. A minute later, a second joined in. Then a third.

Come 2.00am every cow in what I’d ascertained to be a herd of perhaps sixty had had its say in the discussion. Four hours? Maybe I’d be able to just ignore the dawn chorus.

It could have been the last cow that woke Jake up, staying the night in a neighbouring tipi with his grandparents (Jake that is, not the bellowing bovine). Poor Jake had been poorly and I couldn’t in the slightest be irked by this disturbance. His loving, patient grandmother soothed him back to sleep.

Then it was 3.00am. Then I slept.

I already look back on this experience with genuine fondness – experience is story – though I would have much rathered that poor poorly Jake had had a better night of it, bless him.


Then, it was 6.00am and the dawn chorus was in full, beautiful flow :~)

Some time later, I dared to raise myself from my cocoon and I clambered out of my tipi into a world that shimmered as though reality were being viewed through a rough cut diamond.

Imagine something evocative of those times in your younger but old enough days when you’d stayed up all night and you ended up feeling as though you were an actor in a film, a part in a script, and continuity had all gone on holiday and you were left wondering what on earth the props department had been up to. And just who was it who was directing this show? (And maybe later you realised it had been you all along; viewer as author).

Or maybe that was just me? :~)

I entered a world of shape-shifters. This was going to be an interesting day.


As I traversed the site, heading for the shower block, occasional sounds of gentle snoring emanating from tents and tipis brought in turn a gentle smile to my face. Sounds symptomatic of a blissful place to be. That of sleep :~) A mild glint of envy was outweighed in each instance by a feeling of happiness for the happy dreamers.

The shower was fantastic; spacious cubicles big enough to live in, modestly; a strong flow of hot water, invigorating stuff.

Then… a frog, the frog clambered out of the conduit in much the same balletic manner as I’d just earlier scrambled out of my tipi and it sat staring up at me, from the floor. The frog.

My spirit animal.

My totem.


One summer, at the age of seventeen, myself and a group of friends traversed a long section of the Pembrokeshire Coast Path, staying each night in youth hostels that we had booked some time ahead of the start of our adventure. There was one particular hostel however – part-way along the chain that we would need to make use of in order to complete our journey unbroken – that had already been fully booked out for a period of some months surrounding our visit. We decided to take a chance on there being some last minute cancellations or no-shows and turned up at the hostel all the same. This was somewhat optimistic as there were eight or ten of us, or maybe nine. The exact number of our party aside, there wasn’t a single space available anyway let alone the number we’d need to make use of.

We dismissed the notion of continuing immediately on to the next hostel in the chain; we’d already undertaken an arduous cliff-top walk that day, weren’t booked in to the next stop until the following night and might well find it already full on that particular night anyway, so we spent the afternoon enjoying the sunlight in a small, beautiful, West Wales harbour village, no urgent formulation of plans as to what we’d do next. We bought baguettes and cheese and ham and sat down on a pavement to make sandwiches, using pen knives to cut the bread. Slowly. Ever so slowly. A kindly Italian woman emerged from a nearby shop and presented us with a breadboard and a big bread knife. That memory had been lost to the internalised mists of time until I found myself here, writing this. Simple acts of kindness. We can live in a good world.

As the sun set that day we started to pay heed again to the need to make sleeping arrangements. Each of us carried a framed ruck-sack filled with everything that we might need for the journey; dried food to supplement our diet in places where shops were hard to come by, changes of clothing, waterproofs, maps and torches and the like; everything that we might need bar tents, as we’d been staying in youth hostels :~) We found a public green, doubled up on our clothing, donned our waterproofs (some of the party added carrier bags between their socks and their boots for additional insulation) and settled down for the night. The cloud free night. The night free of overhead insulation from the cold of a starry sky. Coldness that kept us awake.

Part way through the night, some of us braved the concrete floor of a nearby public convenience. It was much warmer in there but let’s just say that it wasn’t arrayed with bowls of potpourri, so we gave up on sleep and decided to walk through the night to the next hostel, hoping that pity would be taken on us and we’d be allowed to bed down there during the day. We didn’t take the coast path – that would have been foolhardy as more often than not it sits within a few feet or less of precipitous cliffs, no fence between footfall and… fall – but elected a route following back roads and lanes, and through the night we tramped.

Some hours later, when it couldn’t be dark for much longer but there was still no hint of approaching light, we felt that we were now exhausted enough to sleep regardless of underfoot, of underbody conditions. We settled down en masse on a cobbled pathway thinly carpeted in moss that we came across next to a road. Sleep came quickly and easily.

I awoke that morning, having slept on my back, to the first golden rays of the sun.

I then realised that we’d fallen asleep on the pathway leading up to a church, in the midst of a graveyard.

Then, as I raised my head, I saw him. I saw him sat there. Square on my chest. Sat there square on my chest staring right into my eyes. The frog.

I stared at him. He stared back at me. The he spoke to me, thus…


And that was all that he said and he just continued staring into my eyes.

This is when I realised that the frog was my spirit animal, my totem. I felt deflated, short-changed, somehow let down. The frog? Why not a jaguar or a wolf or an eagle? The frog? Hops with frogs! Brilliant! (Actually, come to think of it, this was years before Kevin Costner danced on the big screen around a fire with a wolf, so I hadn’t thought that last particular thought at the time.) Then I felt acceptance. I supposed that I could be as one with a creature that just sits, calmly, knowingly watching; one that very occasionally just hops around a little.

And I’ve done a little research on spirit animals just now and it seems that the frog does have something going for it as a totem after all :~) Reading what is said therein does also tie in with the encounter that I had with a large number of frogs some ten years later but I’ve already digressed on an epic scale. Pay attention! Where were we? We were in Cornwall…

Showering done, I adjourned to the outdoor sink to brush my teeth. On rinsing my brush I noticed a juvenile snail rested near a fallen leaf in the bottom of the pressed steel basin. A droplet of water splashed on to the snail and it withdrew its head into its shell and as it withdrew its head into its shell a small spider ran out from under that shell and scuttled its way under the neighbouring leaf.

Now I truly felt that I had become part of one of Carlos Castañeda’s tales of Don Juan (quite possibly the inspired adaptation as related in The Simpsons, though). Shape-shifting man-giraffes, visitations from hopping amphibian spirit animals, snails offering shelter to spiders… I took all of these signs of an interesting day ahead.

As I returned to my tipi, I saw that the shape-shifter was now seated drinking coffee, so everything was returning to normal then :~)…


Having diverted the bubbling white water rapids of my mind onto the page (as I want to remember all of that, for myself), back to the story of the people who this story is really about. Up at the marquee field, site warden Oggy was showing Tony the best spot to bust some moves for a sun-dance. Oggy was fantastic to work with, as were all of the staff I encountered at Cornish Tipi Weddings though most of all Oggy as he was there all of the time, what with being the warden and all. Seemingly ceaselessly at work, always offering help and a treasury of very helpful suggestions to boot. It all made for a fantastic working experience that complemented perfectly the perfect social experience…


The tipimoon suite…


Making a well deserved catch up on Z’s after… The Night of the Cows!


When it comes to my photographing bridal preparations there may be certain elements that arise quite consistently within the scenes that I observe. Application of make-up and the styling of hair; attendant bridesmaids and the flux and flurry of excitement and nerves; the lacing of a dress and last minute checks. Essentially though, I simply show what I see and this is my take on bridal preparations on this day; a truly devoted mother and one of her sons. I hope that it provides a magical slice of otherwise forgotten memory for the little un when he has grown and walks the earth fully independently and I felt it a great honour to be able to observe… just this…


Back in the top field, the Best Mani was getting ready with granddad…


I’d also been on a quest, a quest to find Tony, bearing a wedding morning gift sent to him by Anna…


Anna’s brother, Ben, in the lead up to the wedding, had worked on playing the tune to The Smiths’ Please, Please, Please, Let Me Get What I Want on the accordion as she had really wanted it for her entrance music, and played it beautifully he did. Magically. Enchantingly.


And… what an entrance it was!…


I’d known in advance how Anna would be making her entrance (as I need to know such things, of course) but none of the magic of that entrance was lost through that pre-knowledge and as I squatted there to peer out from under the trees I heard behind me, then washing over my shoulders, inter-woven gasps and utterances of delight rolling down the hillside from the gathered throng of guests and it was a beautiful sound, one that could not be made by a single individual alone but only by the collective manifestation of joy as everyone saw Anna being rowed across nature’s aisle by her dad.


I get around :~)…


And briefly, as we float about out here, ever so quietly so as to not disturb the ceremony… which in turn reminds me of something else… When I’d first met with Anna & Tony some months before the wedding and they had described their plans for the day to me, Anna had mentioned a desire for some photographs of the ceremony from the vantage point of its backdrop, the lake itself. I’d agreed that that would make for a lovely addition to the visual narrative but did also say that I was concerned about my presence on the lake somehow distracting people from the ceremony itself. In retrospect, this was perhaps a strange concern; I think maybe I’ve become prone to some form of Pavlovian conditioning after years of countless celebrants reading the riot act to me before anything had even begun about not moving or otherwise causing distraction during ceremonies (and having said that, I should in turn also pay passing testament to the even more countless number of celebrants that have bought in fully to a couple’s right to have a good set of photographs to remind them of that time when they made their vows of commitment to each other). I did find it amusing when, the following morning, a guest related to me the humorous surreality of the sight of me floating past on the lake with my camera as the ceremony got underway :~) No undue disruption though to what was a resolutely fantastic occasion.

And then what was it that I was going to say? That was it. Reeling back a little to Anna’s entrance. The weather was always going to be a key actor and a key factor in all of this and throughout the morning, several shades and varieties of precipitation without appropriate specific etymological markers in the workaday modern form of the English language (I forget now the description that Jennie from Edinburgh had offered for a form of drizzle, from a Scottish dialect, a close approximation that seemed highly apt)… several levels of precipitation – in some cases not strong enough even to be drizzle; in some, something akin to proper rain though not fully of the sort – came and went. Throughout the afternoon and evening such weather came to visit too. But right throughout the ceremony the sun beat heartily atop the clouds and produced what for me, being a photographer, was the most delightful soft-box effect and not a drop of rain or drizzle or mist or whatever to be seen nor felt on the skin. As the time for the ceremony had approached, I listened as a group of site staff spoke with admiration for Anna. She’d been asked what she would like to do if it did rain. There was a facility a stone’s throw away from the lake that allowed for a ceremony to be conducted under canvas. No such thing for Anna though. No Plan B. Come rain or shine, she would arrive by boat and the ceremony would be conducted on the jetty (she and Tony had also bought a big bundle of colourful umbrellas to shelter their guests :~). The site staff being people that live and work outdoors, bonded to nature, that accept all that comes with the whims of mother nature, the respect they had for and delight that they took in providing a service to a like-minded spirit was highly evident and it was this attitude, from all parties involved, that played a key role in the day being such a delight for myself.

I had said ‘briefly,’ hadn’t I? :~)…


Thanks to Oggy for getting me out there and getting me back to land again, safely. I might have been having a wee bit of fun on this day :~)…


Anna & Tony’s celebrant, Kevin, was just fantastic as he presided over the ceremony; a superb speaker projecting an abundant aura of compassion and tangibly connected interest in the subjects of his oration as well as the emotional inclusion of their gathered friends and families. This was the third Humanist wedding ceremony that I had photographed to date and each one has proved to be a particularly powerful experience to bear witness to. The depth of revelation regarding the couple’s characteristics and histories, both individual and combined, was nothing short of profound.

Anna & Tony’s wedding had originally been scheduled for three weeks earlier but a change of both date and venue had become necessary and Kevin, whom was to be the celebrant on the original date, flew back from a holiday in Spain to be there (then flew back to Spain again the following day)…


Anna’s sister, Emily and her partner, Matthew performed beautifully too. A truly musically gifted family they are :~)…


Then Anna’s mum and dad sang Christy Moore’s The Voyage. It was abundantly evident where all of this musical talent had emanated from…


Best Mani delivered a beautiful speech, of his own composition…


Then Tony, followed by Anna, delivered their vows to each other…


I might have cried a couple of times. I’ll put it down to lack of sleep :~) Then Anna delivered one line in particular and it was as though I’d been thumped in the chest by a soft feathery pillow. I gulped, or maybe gasped, or maybe something half-way between the two, audibly, though just how audibly I have no idea. And I couldn’t take any more photographs.

Not really! :~) I’m a pro! (But by heck it was all really getting me)…


And it is done :~)


I really do love overhearing wedding venue staff when amongst themselves, they sing the praises of a couple, of how they are as people and what they have made of their wedding day. I already know and appreciate the calibre of my clients and already know and appreciate what they do, what they make, what they bring together and share with their loved ones on their wedding days, but it’s additionally nice to hear it from others that provide service in this arena. This was by far and away the very best set-up they’d seen in their marquee, I heard. They’d taken photographs of it all themselves, from top to bottom. A great deal of credit goes to Tony for his design – he wins awards from time to time for his trade show displays; absolutely no surprise – and of course to the friends and family that had risen to the challenge alongside.


Anna loves feathers, so in the lead up to the wedding day everyone that she and Tony knew collected… feathers. Anna’s sister, Emily especially. Mani got all of his school friends collecting feathers. Every day that Anna went into work at Urban Graphic, the company that she and Tony own and run, she found feathers on her desk left by her colleagues. Feathers galore…


Friend Philippa, and Anna’s mum, gathered tablecloths and throws for a picnic and an array of old bottles and glasses for a cocktail bar the likes of which you might expect to see in the swishest of establishments (and the manner in which all of these things were built, from scratch, leaves my mind boggling with delight)…


Amply stocked with only the finest bottles of this and of that; adorned with only the finest of fresh lavender :~)…


An array of signs designed and made by Tony…


Tom, a very nice man indeed, served opening innings on the outdoor bar, rigged everything up for the sound system and stage lighting for the evening party then served as DJ into the heady depths of the night (brilliant set, too; most enjoyable to move around to)…


At this juncture, I could vouch wholeheartedly for the sublime quality of the apple juice (and I have no doubts as to the quality of the other offerings, too)…


And a little later, on the insistence of my esteemed clients :~), I got to sample some of this too and I’m outright sold on it…


Tony’s mum made this exceptional bouquet of paper flowers…


Friend Julie, on hearing Anna’s plan to forage all their wedding flowers from hedgerows, brought armfuls of flowers from her garden. And Anna’s dad came across two beautiful vases and bought them on a whim for the wedding day, used to hold floral centrepieces…


An utterly fantastic feast was laid on by Kerra’s Catering (with a delicious hog roast to follow into the evening)…


With apologies to Tony for featuring one with you blinking and there are others where everyone’s eyes are open in synch, but I particularly loved the conspiratorial smile between Anna’s sister and her niece in this one :~)…


The bouncy castle was an absolute hit, totally regardless of a bit of wet weather…


‘Til There Was Uke made yet more utterly lovely sounds…


I loved the temporary-tattoo booth (built by Tim and stencilled by Rob and Dunc from the Urban Graphic posse) and the Ink’d tattoos were a hit with everyone young and… young at heart (I still have my ice-cream sporting a dicky-bow; I’ve been too busy image editing to scrub my forearms :~)


The not-speeches were lovely not-speeches…


Anna & Tony decided it was time that their guests all went home (or maybe they were directing them to where they wanted them all to go to get their photos taken in the black cab photo-booth later that evening :~)…


Anna’s mum and dad decided that she hadn’t cried enough on her wedding day and they sang her and Tony another song, chosen for full emotional effect (said full effect I did photograph, but I’ll keep those ones just for Anna & Tony to see :~)…


A message resonantly delivered from the other side of the world rounded off the not-speeches…


The cocktail menus were beautifully designed by Tony and I must admit that I geeked out a little over the quality of the stock used and the finish of the printing, in turn done by Tony’s sister, Sally and her partner, Matt of Nottingham Printing Ltd


Having binge watched every single episode of Mad Men on Netflix during ‘quiet season’, I very much had my eye on the Old Fashioned :~) For later though! Quite a bit later. My esteemed clients were resolutely hospitable, it must be said…


(And my thanks once again for your friendly understanding and knowing just when to hold, or indeed when to reconstitute a position :~)…


Anna & Tony brought their own mixologists with them, from their favourite Bristol cocktail bar, and my did they ever have a work ethic!…


I can confirm sir, that you are safe! No ‘photoshopping’ required in the broader image sequence :~)…


Tony’s sister, clearly appreciating the phenomena that is the existential crisis of wedding photography, had been concerned that nobody was taking photographs of me as I went hither and thither photographing everyone else, so I jumped in the cab myself to rectify the possible omission :~)…


Bite the Buffalo were downright awesome. How two guys can pump out music that sounds like a four-piece or more, I’ve no idea, but they utterly rocked.


It was some time into the night, around the camp-fire, that Jo made her introduction. I find myself living amidst an interesting matrix of connections in this world of weddings. Jo, it transpires, had first introduced Anna to my work. In turn, Jo had been introduced to that work by Sophie (whom I’ll be meeting again at a wedding this September). Sophie’s boyfriend, Neil, was best man at a wedding that I photographed two years ago, that of Sarah & Jon. A meandering chain of great people :~)


Travis :~)…


“Ooh, what’s that one called?” I asked Tony, intrigued by the inclusion of a vanilla pod. “It’s a Muddy Puddle,” he replied…




And then the world looked like this :~)…


And… it looked like this…


And Funky Tom kept everyone funking into the night…



Well… I’m not much of a one for words, but…

Who am I kidding?


I think I used most of the words up. They’re self-regenerating though. In volume :~)

Anna & Tony…

Well, that was just epic. And congratulations. Big, big congratulations. Look back on this day for many, many years to come, with your two fine boys as they grow, and know how much it meant, how much it means, and how much it will always mean. I truly loved every moment of being there to experience all that you did and what a lovely, lovely bunch of people you brought along with you to share in the making, the doing and the celebrating of it all.

Contact Cornwall Wedding Photographer Phillip Allen : : 07870 696248

Let's Get In Touch!

Send me an email and I'll get back to you by return.