While once there would be a lone photographer taking pictures of the happy couple, now videographers and ‘content creators’ are also invited to document the big day, and even the clergy have had enough

Hiking to the top of the highest local peak in full wedding dress sounded dramatic, adventurous and romantic. A visual representation of feeling on top of the world; a jaunty juxtaposition between gorgeous wedding finery and the wilds of northern England. The resulting photographs were striking and memorable, recalls the photographer behind this scenario, Scott Johnson. The couple were lovely and it was one of his favourite jobs – but he wonders how their guests felt, having been left for two hours while they went off to hike up a hill. “You’re invited by the bride and groom to spend a day with them and they disappear, so I can see where the angst comes from,” he says. “But it’s what the couple wants, so we have to say yes.”

Johnson, in his 40s, says he is old enough to remember when his wedding photography jobs lasted around three hours – he was there to capture the arrival at the church or register office, shoot the ceremony and take portraits and photographs for an hour or so afterwards. “You didn’t do any bridal preparation, or stay for the party.” Now, he says, couples want coverage from early in the morning until midnight or later. “I used to just take one camera and one lens,” he adds; now he brings a van of equipment. “Couples are much more aware of what can be done than ever before.” And, anecdotally at least, many couples want much more. “Some want the more stylised coverage,” he says. “You see wedding photography online where you’re thinking, that’s not a wedding, it’s like a movie shoot.”

Born with disabilities in the shadow of Chornobyl, she spent her early life in an orphanage that was also a brothel. Then Masters was adopted, and thrived, becoming a phenomenal rower, skier and cyclist

You wouldn’t necessarily expect an injury to a finger to derail an entire competition season and threaten to end a sporting career, but this is the situation Oksana Masters, the US Paralympic skier and cyclist, found herself in last year. “I’ve had injuries and I’m used to missing time, but not a whole year like that,” she says. “I underestimated the mental side.” But in a life as traumatic and triumphant as Masters’, a broken finger is just one more obstacle to be overcome.

She was born in Ukraine in 1989, with a range of disabilities caused by radiation from the 1986 Chornobyl nuclear disaster, and spent the first part of her childhood in an orphanage, enduring unimaginable emotional, physical and sexual abuse. When, as an eight-year-old, she was adopted by an American woman, it was finally the start of a happy family life – but it was also challenging to adapt to a new country. Masters underwent multiple operations, including having both her legs amputated.