Big Big Train, the band with the dumb name, playing nostalgia-laden music, seemingly derived from some forgotten glory years.
Big Big Train, a symbol of determination, of uncompromising musicianship, of continuity.
A decades-old band which has stuck to its guns and aspirations, with paltry obvious reward.
An international collective of musicians, brought together by fate, the Internet their studio.
A spark, fanned to a flame, air drawn through tightly formed forums and online communities.
A reluctance to perform, not through lack of talent but the financial risk of delivering without compromise.
A spotlight shining from a benign corner of the media, whispering encouragement.
A venue found, a weekend fixed. Arrangements made, rehearsals undertaken.
Big Big Train, live on stage, once, twice, three times a masterclass in musical prowess, a lesson in humility.
And a reminder.
Fame and fortune glint like diamonds in the depths, tantalisingly beyond reach, but for a few.
For others the journey is longer but its rewards timeless, new strands weaving into our shared history.
Last night’s gig was a quiet triumph. Uncle Jack would be proud.