We list universities and catapults because they have the kit. We also list startups whose cleanroom is a converted unit on an estate with a decent pie shop.
Good engineering has never required an atrium. It has required a tolerance, a notebook, and someone who will say when the part is wrong.
Good engineering has never required an atrium.
If you are in the shed, publish the work. The rest of us would like to apply.
There is a particular kind of British firm that is very easy to overlook. Twelve to thirty people, a unit on an industrial estate, a website that has not been touched since it was made, and a capability that two multinationals depend on. It does not attend conferences. It does not have a communications function. It is booked eight months ahead.
These firms are the connective tissue of the country's engineering, and they are systematically absent from the places where collaboration is brokered. Not because they are uninterested, but because the mechanisms — consortium calls, expressions of interest, innovation showcases — are designed around organisations with someone whose job is to fill in forms.
We have tried to build the noticeboard they would actually use. A work package is a page. Applying to one takes twenty minutes. Nobody has to attend anything, join anything, or describe their vision.
The corollary is a request to the larger institutions. When you scope a package, consider whether a small specialist firm could apply to it. If the eligibility criteria require a track record of European consortium participation, you have written a filter rather than a requirement, and you have excluded the people most likely to do the work well.