It was Christmas Day and while I was waiting for her to call and say she'd bucked tradition and proposed to him, he stole the glory.

My sister and brother-in-law are not a conventional couple and were never going to have a conventional wedding.

But when they began planning to self-cater at their shared 100+ acre property in the Grampians National Park even I - whose always thought my older sibling was capable of anything - was concerned.

The happy couple began laying out plans to cook for and entertain 120 guests at a property with no electricity and no running water.

In June, I agreed to be their celebrant - here's what I learned ...

When Matty Wight and Eliza Crowe began searching for someone special to repeat their vows after, they soon realised it would be trickier than anticipated. A flamboyant friend was booked up that weekend and the offering around their remote Victorian property was minimal.

With the rest of the wedding planned to be the most personal experience possible, it seemed a shame to have a stranger perform a part that was so intimate.

"I could do it?" I suggested.

"Of course you can!" they replied.

It turned out I couldn't - it takes more than five months to get through hours of mind-numbing boring q&a quizzes, plus plan and film a bunch of mock ceremonies all while working full time, but we weren't to know that.

I paid almost $1200 for the online course and got started at what I would soon realise was a long and painful process.

It turns out marrying someone is actually a pretty big responsibility. There are some important legal requirements that the Attorney General's Department do not want you to stuff up. Nor, should I imagine, do the couple hoping to get hitched.

To make sure you know what you're doing, becoming a celebrant requires the submission of about a million online quizzes and two million documents that you'll inevitably resubmit because you'll assume you're too smart to bother reading the requirements carefully.

In conclusion, all I learned from the course was how to use the office photocopier and scanner and that filming your friends pretending to get married while drinking several bottles of wine on a Saturday night is not an efficient way to get qualified.

My failure to complete my course on time meant my sister employed the service of a lovely celebrant from Horsham who was given the task of performing all the boring stuff.

Before the wedding it meant submitting all the legal forms, during the wedding it meant saying a couple of sentences and signing the certificates.

In the words of my fellow celebrant and course convener: on the day I was still Hugh Jackman, The Greatest Showman.

My sister and brother-in-law put on the most incredible and memorable celebration of their love for a grand total of $7000* - including what family chipped-in to pay for.

They purchased meats which they slow-roasted themselves and delegated the tasks of cheese platters, desserts, cake, music and bar management to everyone else.

Granted, a small army of friends and family hung out in the bush for a week erecting marquees alongside them, but on December 15 they got hitched without a hitch.

Both my divorced parents walked my sister up the aisle. Her best friend instructed a Beyonce flash mob during the ceremony. There was no official photographer or photos. Her groom will take our last name.

There was no pomp in our ceremony. Just a beautiful, drama-free party we'll never forget.

*the cost does not include what I paid to do the course. I intend to make that back when I gift my services to all my couple friends instead of buying them wedding gifts.