I work from two locations: Stanmore, where I offer the full range of my practice, and Fitzrovia, in central London, for a more focused selection of sessions.

I didn’t set out to become a practitioner. I set out to understand myself.

Growing up between cultures, navigating my identity as a gay man, carrying the weight of unspoken things that many of us never learn to name — I found my way to the body almost by accident. Yoga came first. Then meditation. Then a growing realisation that the answers I was looking for weren’t in my head. They were stored somewhere deeper — in sensation, in breath, in the places the body goes quiet or tense without explanation.

That curiosity became a calling.

Over the past decade I have trained formally across several disciplines. As a yoga and meditation teacher, I learned how breath and movement can create access to parts of the self that thinking alone cannot reach. As a tantric massage therapist, I was trained in the tradition of working with the body’s energy — not just its muscles and tissues, but its aliveness, its patterns, its intelligence. As a sex educator, I developed a language for desire, shame, identity, and the ways the body holds all of it. As a family constellation facilitator, I came to understand how much of what we carry belongs not just to us, but to the systems and stories we were born into.

Each qualification added knowledge. But it was my own lived experience — my therapy, my mistakes, my relationships, and my willingness to keep looking honestly at myself — that shaped the practitioner I am today.

What I offer is not a menu of techniques, though there are techniques. It is a space. A space where something that has been waiting can begin to move. Where the body is treated not as a problem to be solved but as an intelligence to be listened to. Where pleasure is not shameful, and curiosity is not dangerous, and nothing about you needs to be edited before you walk in.

I work primarily with men. Men who are exploring their relationship with their own body for the first time. Men who have been to therapists and counsellors and feel that something important is still not being reached. Men who carry unexplored material around desire, identity, or intimacy — who have a sense that something is held in the body that words have not yet touched. Men who simply want skilled, attentive bodywork from someone who understands the particular weight of being a man who wants to be received.

I also work with men who don’t have a story about any of this. Who are curious, or who just want to feel good. That is equally valid and equally welcome.

Women are welcome for conventional therapeutic massage — deep tissue, Lomi Lomi, Thai, and Reiki integration. I’m gay, and in practice most who seek me out are men. That feels like the right fit, and I don’t pretend otherwise.

My practice is grounded in three things.

Consent and safety at every step — not as a procedure, but as a living part of how sessions are held. Nothing happens that hasn’t been agreed. You are in charge of your own experience at every moment.

Non-judgement as a foundation rather than an aspiration — I have heard a great deal in this work. Nothing you bring will change how you are received. Shame is not useful here and has no place.

Embodiment — the understanding that real change happens not through insight alone, but through the body learning something new. Talk can open a door. The body has to walk through it.

I have been doing this work in London since 2010. I have sat with men at the beginning of something, and I have sat with men who have been working with me for years. Each session is different. Each person brings something I haven’t seen in quite that form before. That is what keeps this work alive for me.

If something here is speaking to you — a word, a sentence, a feeling you can’t quite name — reach out. You don’t need to have it figured out before you get in touch.

The first conversation is simply a conversation.