Callum

I'm Callum, 29, from Kirkby. I've been working construction since I left school at 16, started as an apprentice with a local firm that went under in 2008. Since then it's been casual labour, building sites across Merseyside, decent work when you can get it. I've always been drawn to the big projects though. Not just putting up another retail park or fixing someone's extension. I wanted to work on the infrastructure that actually connects places, that moves people around, that lasts. My sister Emma has cerebral palsy and uses a wheelchair. I see every day how much difference proper transport makes to someone's life. Good rail connections, accessible stations, reliable services. That's the kind of work I wanted to contribute to.

In 2019, I heard Network Rail was recruiting apprentices for major rail projects. This was it, exactly what I'd been hoping for. I had the construction background, I knew how to read plans and work with heavy machinery. I filled out the application, sent it off, felt properly optimistic for the first time in years. Got a response three weeks later: the North West intake had been suspended due to budgetary constraints, but I should try again next year. Fair enough, I thought. These things happen. They encouraged me to stay in touch.

I went to Knowsley Council's employment services to see what else might be available. The advisor was helpful enough, gave me contact details for the Department for Work and Pensions. My DWP advisor, a woman called Sarah, looked through their system and shook her head. "Transport infrastructure training isn't available locally," she said. "The funding allocation for this region has been reduced." She suggested I consider warehouse work instead. There was plenty of that.

I tried the Liverpool City Region Combined Authority next, thinking maybe they'd know about upcoming projects. The person I spoke to was polite but firm: major rail projects were on hold pending Treasury approval. "We're hoping for movement next year," he said, "but nothing confirmed." Same story everywhere. Next year, next year, always next year.

Merseytravel seemed like the obvious place to try. They actually run the local rail services. Their training coordinator listened to my background and seemed interested, until she checked her budget. "Our training allocation has been reallocated to maintenance of existing services," she told me. "There is no funding for new apprenticeships this year."

I accepted this at first. It sounded reasonable. Everyone was saying the same thing: there's no money, budgets are tight, try again next year. You hear it so often you stop questioning it. Of course there's no money. There never is.

But then something didn't add up. I was driving past Newton-le-Willows one afternoon and remembered there used to be a Rail Skills Academy there. Thought I'd have a look, see if anything was happening. The building was locked, completely empty. I could see through the dusty windows though. All the training equipment was still there. Computer workstations, mock-up signal boxes, even a section of track for hands-on practice. Just sitting there, unused.

I got talking to my old crew from the construction firm that folded. Turns out three of them were in exactly the same position as me: unemployed, qualified for rail work, going in circles with different agencies. Mark had done track laying before. Tony knew electrical systems inside out. Decent engineers, all of them, all being told there was no capacity in the region.

Then I ran into Dave, who I'd worked with on a bridge project in 2017. He mentioned he'd just got a job with HS2 down in Birmingham. "Massive recruitment drive," he said. "They can't find enough people with construction experience." He'd applied online, got interviewed within a week, started the following month. Same kind of work I'd been trying to get into, same skills they said weren't needed up here.

That's when it stopped making sense. If HS2 was actively recruiting construction workers in Birmingham, why was I being told there was no funding for transport training in the North West? If the Rail Skills Academy building was sitting empty with working equipment, what exactly was the money shortage paying for? If three qualified engineers from my old crew were all unemployed and all wanted to do rail work, and the training centre existed, and the equipment existed, what was missing?

I started to think differently about what I'd been told. "There is no funding." "The budget has been cut." "Pending Treasury approval." The government that prints the pound notes was telling me it couldn't find enough of them to train people who were standing right there, ready to work. The equipment existed. The building existed. The instructors could be hired. The people wanting training definitely existed.

The constraint wasn't the money. The government doesn't run out of pounds the way I run out of wages. It issues the currency. When Treasury says there's no funding for rail training in the North West but plenty for HS2 in the Midlands, that's not an accounting problem. That's a political decision about where to spend and where not to spend.

I used to think "there's no money" meant the cupboard was genuinely bare, like when my mum had to choose between heating and food after Dad left. But the government isn't my mum managing a tight household budget. It creates the money when it spends. The real question was never whether pounds existed. It was whether the people existed, whether the skills could be taught, whether the materials were available. They were. All of them.

Now I see "there is no funding" differently. It means someone decided not to authorize the spending. Someone in Westminster looked at the North West, saw the unemployed engineers, the empty training centres, the transport projects this region needs, and chose to spend the money elsewhere instead. They wrapped that choice in the language of fiscal responsibility, made it sound like they had no alternative.

But they did have alternatives. They always do. The money isn't real until they create it by spending it. The limit was never the pounds. The limit was the willingness to spend them into the places and people who needed them.

I'm still here, still watching, still ready to do the work. What I understand now is this isn't just my story. It's the story of every constituency where people and needs exist side by side while someone in Westminster says the cupboard is bare. The cupboard isn't bare. It's a choice to keep it locked.