My book The Boy, The Bucket and The Persistent Tide was released into the world in December. To celebrate, there were two launches. The first in Amsterdam (Dec. 11th in Bar Theo) and the second in Dublin (Jan. 3 Slattery’s Rathmines). The people are calling it: The European Tour. See the promo below designed by Lilou Angelrath & Réiltín O’Hagan of the incredible Bog Bodies Press. I love it, it resembles a Wanted poster from a century-old newspaper, timeless, demanding attention, skewed wayward lines, clear lettering. The promotion worked, many wonderful people showed up.

I worked on this book for a good year. Some of the pieces were written as far back as 2020 upon arrival in the Netherlands. Some were written sporadically over the years and published in other magazines—The Couch, Onomatopee, Simulacrum, mnemotope. Others pieces were residing dormant in forgotten folders, unearthed and ultimately got a life. Nothing is ever wasted! Some others were written a week before print. Many still remain elsewhere and waiting for another chance. That’s the way it goes.

All the works came together to form the book, a triptych of sorts, The Boy, The Bucket and The Persistent Tide.

The Boy representing me, far from home, exploring the landscapes and seascapes of the lowlands. I begin pondering Doggerland and I end with the summiting of the highest hill in the Netherlands. The greater the distance, the clearer the view.

The Bucket consists of shorter, gathered fragments of experiences down the years, all once I’d found my feet as I moved further afield in the Netherlands.

The Persistent Tide is a final stream of writing, memories in a haze, encompassing segments from the first part and the second.

In Amsterdam on December 11th, it was the first time I held the book in my hands. A beautiful, absurd moment! All of that in all of this. I had finished the book on October 17th. So holding it, a condensed dream, the open spine, the glue shining, the smell off the paper that had been printed and bound all the way in Estonia. The way it fits snug in the hand. How it opens flat on the table. The illustrations in a sea of dark paper (art is not a mirror, it’s a window!). The page numbers tucked in, fastened like a door knob. Twist and turn to enter my world. Réiltín and Lilou presented me with a bouquet of Amaryllis, bursting flowers, and another to the legendary illustrator, Sam van Heijningen, who, with the lead of his pencil brought my dreamscapes into existence. Thank you, Sam.

I raised the thick stalks high with a great sense of pride, and feeling grateful to the mob around me for all their support.

I read a section from the ‘The Pylon Man’, a description of a trip I took to the town of Lelystad, a new town pulled from the seabed and founded in the 1980s. The source of the title and theme of: (1) The Boy (2) The Bucket (3) The Persistent Tide. My dear friend, collaborator and aptly named DJ_, b current (aka Milan van Eeden) was on the decks beside me. He stocked three separate records that are purely seagull noises. Swooping, giggling, beak wrestling, cod thieves. If it clacks like a gull…

b current swept us all away to the strands on the North Sea, drifting along with his seafaring anthems of Lelystad. The extract appears cascading down the back of the book. See photo below where you can read the section.

Here are some photos from the night:

Dublin

First Saturday of a New Year. Upstairs, and even more stairs, in Slattery’s Rathmines, one of the great pubs, it was time for the homecoming show.

I read three pieces and was accompanied by ceolsmith of the midlands John Lappin on his flat-backed Irish Bouzouki.

I read ‘Nieuwe Hollandse, First Herring’ then ‘The Bearded Man Under the Buttress’ and finally, ‘Balkbrug and Dogwood’. The place was packed. The launch felt punk rock. There was a nonagenarian present. Come on! I was full up to my gusset with joy and grateful to all that came along.

John plucked versions of ‘Lowlands of Holland’, ‘Tabhair Dom Do Lámh’ and ‘Sí Bheag, Sí Mhór’ all delicately interspersing between the tales, elevating them all. I compared John to a merry lute player seen in the paintings of the Old Masters - Jan Steen, Frans Hals, Gerrit van Honthorst - and how in these works like a skull bringing memento mori or an oyster showing euphemistic vivacity, John was the human representation of the frivolity and joyfulness decorating a still life.

A Bucket of the World

Since the launches I have been sent a gallery of images of the book in spots around the world: Kyoto, New York, Marrakech, in The Channel Tunnel, Telford, Cork, Sao Paolo, Paisley, Newcastle-upon-Tyne, Sydney. The act of writing the book was arduous, it took patience, it was sometimes lonely. Inspiration comes thick. You have to dilute it. I had a notebook by the bed, or always in my pocket. I took thousands of photos. I questioned everything! So much of it is you waiting for you. Luckily, Bog Bodies gave a form of divine calming energy, endless encouragement and mighty skillful editing to the whole experience.

Now, hearing people talk about their enjoyment of the writing — even laughing out loud on the subway from Brooklyn into Manhattan — and their love of the object truly is wonderful.

See below a video captured above the very full moat of Nijo Castle in Kyoto (Arigato for the video Tom Speers!)

Someone asked me would I be recording an audiobook as my voice is very nice to fall asleep to. I took this as a compliment! And yes, I am going to be recording an audiobook. More to come on that in the Spring. As with Spring, comes growth. I see the snowdrops, here’s to you Brigid on today, Imbolc.

For now, I am planning more voyages in the lowlands and into the great beyond. I hope to again find some inspiration for more projects down the way.

If you would like to pick up a copy, the book is available here.

Thank you for all the love shown to TBTBATPT. A documentation, a montage of landscapes of the written word from 2020-2025, I’ve made some mark in the sand, to fill up the bucket, slap it down and reveal the edifice of sand. The waters coming in, time’s going by, but at least there’s something there, a thread-bound thing of beauty to remember that place, that time, what a time! Thank you for the support.

There will be more events to come down the line. Maybe see some of you there. Wherever that will be. Let me finish now with a quote from Johan Cruyff, something for you to mull over this February:

Als je ergens niet bent, ben je of te vroeg of te laat.

If you’re not somewhere, you’re either too early or too late.

P.S. A promo video produced by Bog Bodies below with an extract from the piece ‘Over the Lilypads’

Get yourself some cheeseblocks today…