The one who found balance

Working in child protection, as I did before coming to Aviva, your job is never done.

There's rarely a moment when you shut your laptop at the end of the day and feel fully satisfied. The knowledge that young people are trapped in harmful situations creates a relentlessness.  

I worked for the UK government body that tackles online abuse and exploitation of children.

Later, I became deputy chief executive of a company whose mission is to reduce the number of children who are separated from their family and placed in institutions, like orphanages.

I’ve worked in fantastic places in Eastern Europe, Haiti, Kenya, Colombia, and Papua New Guinea.

It was tough work in demanding environments, but there was always hope. I’ve had the privilege of working alongside incredible people – strong, passionate, and committed to making change happen.

Faced with such overwhelming need - the sheer scale and depth of it - I kept pouring energy into trying to make a difference. I worked longer hours, pushed harder, until I found it hard to switch off.  

On finding gold dust

Now, I run the Aviva Foundation. We support charities that help people in the UK become more financially resilient and protect communities against climate change.

I’ve always wanted to help people, and organisations like Aviva have a huge role to play in helping society. I’m excited to see how we can continue to use our scale and influence for good.

Since coming here I've seen expertise, compassion, and commitment. There’s a real desire to help people get ready for a secure future.

For many of the charities we work with, having access to our support, scale and influence is gold dust.

For us, working with charities, listening and learning from them and the people they serve, means we can play a bigger role in helping people.

On tough times

I speak to charities every day. And in the 20 years I've worked alongside them, times have never been tougher. Some funding sources have dried up. Organisations and individuals have had to keep their heads above water through a pandemic and the cost-of-living crisis.

Charities are trying to help people with long-term, often intergenerational, challenges. Things are really, really tough. Lots of charities are struggling.

It’s a privilege to be able to help, and to try to be a supportive funder. There can be a sense of imbalance when one side holds funding and the other seeks it. That’s not how I want charities to feel about us. Our goal is to approach this with humility, to be a listener and a partner.

On the struggle of not knowing

A lot of funders are black boxes. You send an application; you hear nothing.

I spent many years applying and not knowing. Not knowing if I’d got funding, not understanding why I hadn’t. It’s frustrating, as you can spend days on a single application.

We invite charities to have a chat with us before they apply. If they're not successful, we offer feedback. People are often grateful for feedback, when they shouldn’t be. It should be a better system.

We get so many strong, thoughtful applications, saying ‘no’ is hard. With limited funding and huge demand, we have to say ‘no’ far more than ‘yes’. It never feels good.

That’s why we work hard to make it as easy as possible to apply for funding, so charities don’t have to invest unnecessary time and effort and can focus on what they do best.

On impossible decisions

More and more organisations are seeking funding, and the applications keep getting stronger.

Our role is to support charities that can deliver the greatest social benefit - and to make those decisions with rigour, objectivity, and transparency.

But it’s impossible to ignore the human side.

Charitable funding is both head and heart. Sometimes there’s a personal connection; other times, stories of hardship make it impossible to stay detached.

If decisions were based only on metrics, you’d hit the target but miss the point. If they were driven only by emotion, you might achieve short-term wins without lasting change.

That balance between evidence and empathy is the hardest, and most important, part of the job.

Thankfully, we have an advisory panel made up of fantastic people across Aviva and external experts. With care and rigour, they review every application and shortlist those that best meet our funding criteria.

On funding sweet spots

With our funding, Mencap are training their employees to help people with learning disabilities become more financially resilient.

Mencap have an unwavering commitment to working alongside people with learning disabilities. They don’t impose solutions - they collaborate. They listen, learn from people’s experiences, and shape support to make a difference. That shone through in their funding application.

Talking Money, a financial support charity, came to the Foundation about five years ago.

They were fed up of the revolving door. They’d help someone get back on their feet. Then a few months later, that person would need help again because the root cause of their money issues was still there.

With our funding, they were able to spend more time with people. Instead of asking questions on a checklist, they’re really getting to the bottom of their money issues and helping to address them.

Both Mencap and Talking Money work with hundreds of partners across the UK. They’re sharing their insights and expertise on a national scale. That’s the real opportunity, the sweetest spot for us as funders.

On relentless commitment

With partners like Mencap and Talking Money, we can help more people across the UK. People who’ve been excluded or left behind. People who need a stable footing so they can look forward with confidence.

Looking at the charitable sector today, I see far more reasons for hope than despair. The challenges are real. Funding pressures, rising need, complexity of change – but they don’t define us.

This sector is defined by resilience and relentless commitment to people and communities. Over the years, I’ve seen charities adapt with creativity, collaborate with generosity, and hold fast to values that matter.

On life lessons

Family is my anchor.

I spent years working with children separated from their families - children who had lost their anchor. Witnessing that loss underlined that if I can’t be a present parent, everything else is inconsequential.

That’s why I try to support colleagues when it comes to prioritising, because it took me a long time to learn.

Earlier in my career, I was all-in, constantly travelling while my kids were so young. I carried a constant guilt of being absent, then coming home and needing to be a switched-on dad after draining days.

Looking back, I see now that I haven’t always got the work-life balance right. For me, that’s both a lesson learned and a work in progress.