London is a city built on contrast. Old and new sit side by side, often within the same street, sometimes within the same room. Photographing an informal wedding at St Ethelburga’s felt like a perfect reflection of that balance — calm and chaos, history and immediacy, all happening at once.

From the moment I stepped inside the space, there was a sense that this day wasn’t about performance. It was about people. Family and friends gathered close, conversations overlapping, laughter arriving easily. The building itself carries weight and history, but the atmosphere was light — familiar, warm, unguarded.

One of the most meaningful moments came early on, when Jamie shared that his father would be leading the ceremony. There was no grand announcement, just a quiet pride in his voice. Throughout the day, that family connection threaded its way through everything. Small gestures carried more weight than anything staged ever could — a look held for a second longer than expected, a hand resting on a shoulder, his mum gently wiping away tears without trying to hide them.

Emotion moved naturally, without cue or control. That’s often the case with smaller, informal weddings — there’s space for people to feel things fully. As a photographer, those are the days where you stop thinking about individual images and start paying attention to the rhythm of what’s unfolding. When to step back. When to move closer. When to let something happen without interference.

Children ran between tables. Someone laughed at the wrong moment. There was teasing during the vows, followed by a sudden quiet as the words landed. None of it needed fixing or tidying up. Those imperfect moments are often the most honest record of what the day actually felt like.

I worked instinctively, shifting between wider frames to hold the room together and tighter compositions that picked up on the smaller exchanges happening within it. A glance here, a smile there — details that don’t demand attention but reward it.

Looking back, what stays with me isn’t one single photograph, but the overall feeling of being in that space. The ease. The trust. The sense that everyone present was exactly where they wanted to be. Days like this are a reminder that photography isn’t about control or perfection. It’s about noticing. About allowing moments to exist and being ready when they do.

I left St Ethelburga’s with more than a set of images. I left with a renewed appreciation for the quiet strength of simple moments — the kind that don’t shout, but stay with you long after the day is over.