It started, as many good things do, by accident.
One Tuesday morning, I posted a photo of our hens. Not for anything financial. Just a simple update from our little corner of France, a few clucking ladies scratching in the dirt, some eggs, some sunlight, some chaos.
I didn’t expect much. But people loved it.
Every Tuesday after that, someone would ask, “How are the YuillesPoules doing?” And just like that, #ChickenTuesday was born. What surprised me was that people didn’t just want financial tips or investment insights. They wanted a story. They wanted something real.
I believe that it’s because the real value of financial planning isn’t really about spreadsheets. It’s about stories.
It always has been.
From numbers to narratives
Sure, we talk about pensions, tax wrappers, and asset allocation. I build models and look at forecasts. But that’s not what makes the work meaningful.
What makes it matter is why people come to see me in the first place.
They don’t say, “Mike, I need an optimised Monte Carlo simulation with confidence intervals for a 40-year time horizon.” They say, “Mike, I don’t know if I’m going to be okay.” Or “I’m moving to Portugal and I have no idea what happens to my UK pension.” Or “My daughter’s just been born and I want to get things in place.”
Behind every spreadsheet is a story. A family. A future. A feeling of wanting to do things right. Not just for yourself, but for the people you love.
The chickens weren’t about the eggs
When we got our hens, it wasn’t to maximise output or productivity. We didn’t run the numbers on feed-to-egg ratios. We just wanted to rescue a few feathered friends from a pretty miserable life.
We gave them names. We let them roam. And they gave us more than eggs, they gave us rhythm. Structure. A reminder to slow down.
That’s how financial planning should feel.
Not like something imposed from the outside, but something that gives your life shape and meaning. Not a spreadsheet filled with things you don’t understand, but a conversation where the story is your own.
Remembering where you came from
I’ve spoken before about my roots in Wigan. That grounding is still with me, not in some nostalgic way, but in how I work. I believe in straight-talking, in asking good questions, in building trust slowly and honestly.
A good financial plan should feel like that, too.
You should be able to read it and think, “Yes, that sounds like me. That’s my life, my future, in there.” Not, “What on earth is this acronym, and why does it matter?”
When you’re living abroad, your life is already layered. Different currencies, tax systems, cultural expectations, and timelines. The last thing you need is a financial plan that adds more confusion.
You need someone who can translate and connect the dots. Not just the technical bits, but how it all fits together in your life.
You need stories, not just summaries. You need to know what happens if you move again. If you change jobs. If your parents need care. If your child goes to university on another continent. You need to know you’ll be okay.
Yes, I’ll do the spreadsheets. I’ll make sure the strategy is sound and compliant. But I’ll also take the time to understand the people behind the numbers; your hopes, your history, your heart.
Because in the end, a good financial plan doesn’t start with the data. It starts with the story. And when it’s done right, it becomes the story of how you built a life that really worked… wherever in the world you happen to be.
