a mundane may
a few notes on this month, keepsakes and bookmarks
When I sat at my desk trying to recall the month of May, there wasn’t one standout moment that immediately came to mind. No big event, no dramatic shift. I usually write my monthly recaps with a theme: welcoming a seasonal energy boost, blooming with spring soft rituals, or how January was a definite trial month for me. This time, despite a slight curveball mid-month, May felt like smooth sailing. Steady. Mundane. In the best possible way.
I’ve come to appreciate months like this, where the rhythm is soft, the days loop gently, and nothing demands a dramatic retelling. There’s a quiet comfort in the repeatable, the expected, the pleasantly unremarkable. A kind of low-level joy that stays with you longer than a rush. This month, it was all about those little serotonin boosts. Small keepsakes. Moments to hold onto.
Each month, I like to take a moment to reflect and share a few of my gentle favourites. Below, I’ve rounded up my picks in the following categories:
Keepsakes – Moments to hold onto
Screen Time – This month’s watches
Empty Plates – Food favourites
Music Interlude – Songs I kept listening to
Bookmarks – This month’s reads
KEEPSAKES
❧ Sunny days! I’m like the plants, I need sun to thrive. I love how the sun slowly wraps warmth around us, gently shifting the mood. May brought long walks in nature, picnics in the park, little hikes, and a few discoveries around the city. That said, I also welcomed the three little rain showers we had this month (not three days, just three rains). At the moment, Edinburgh isn’t quite the picture-perfect green oasis you might imagine. The grass is dry and turning yellow. I wouldn’t mind a bit more rain, ideally at night while I’m asleep. Then I can get my blanket out, on lush grass, while munching on strawberries.
❧ Speaking of strawberries… It’s finally strawberry season in the UK. Before May, they were expensive and tasted like nothing. But now they’re juicy, sweet, and much more reasonably priced. A crate has taken up permanent residence in my fridge until further notice. I top it up as soon as it runs out.
❧ I went on my seasonal stroll through Edinburgh’s Botanic Garden. Every few months, I find myself drawn back there. It’s become a ritual, a way to watch the garden change and ground myself near the tall sequoias.
❧ After two years, my little cactus bloomed again. It didn’t last long, just for the month of May, but it made me smile every time I looked at it.
❧ For my article, notes on mums, the true heroes, I asked my mum to look through my childhood photo albums. She sent so many. Some of just me, some of us together, and some of my grandparents, including a few beautiful vintage ones. It made me feel deeply nostalgic. That’s the kind of serotonin I mean. Simple, quiet, and full of feeling.
❧ I’m deeply addicted to charity shops. Many of us are in the UK. Around 90% of my furniture, books, and even kitchen bits come from them. My best second-hand finds this month? The book Madonna in a Fur Coat by Sabahattin Ali (the 2017 Penguin Classics edition I had been looking for, £2.50), and the most perfect coffee cup with little flower details (£2). So on brand for this season.
❧ I got a haircut and feel more like myself again. I’m still unsure about the colour. Should I stay blonde or slowly return to my natural hair colour (a mousy blonde)? I'm not sure yet, but the haircut itself was much needed.
❧ Free croissant! It was from Lidl, but still, free is free. Apparently, Lidl’s bakery has been voted the UK’s favourite supermarket bakery. To be fair, they’re decent. Slightly controversial, but I don’t love plain croissants. I prefer them filled: almond, chocolate, pistachio, raspberry and so on. Otherwise, I’d rather eat bread (I love bread). But with brie, honey and Granny Smith apple? That’s a different story.
SCREEN TIME
This month, I made good use of my MUBI subscription. One of the reasons I got it was to rewatch two of my favourite films from last year, Past Lives and Perfect Days, and I finally watched Queer.
Past Lives (2023, dir. Celine Song)
This is a romantic drama, not a romance. That distinction matters. The film follows two childhood friends over 24 years as they grow apart, living different lives in different countries — South Korea and the US. It feels honest, tender, and profound. It captures that odd sense of being drawn to someone, as if you’ve known them before. It is not about the right person at the wrong time, or the wrong person at the right time. There are more layers than that. It’s a deeply moving and beautiful story. You’ve probably seen it already, but if not, please do.
Perfect Days (2023, dir. Wim Wenders)
This felt like the perfect (re)watch for a mundane month. It follows Hirayama, a public toilet cleaner in Tokyo, as he goes about his very structured daily routine. He lives simply, yet with quiet joy. The film reminds us how much there is to notice in the everyday. It’s a beautifully sensory experience: the gentle tones of Tokyo, the ambient sounds, the nostalgic soundtrack, and the way the camera lingers on the ordinary. Some shots feel almost vlog-like, others are close and intimate. Every time I watch it, I take away something new. I’m already looking forward to watching it again.
Queer (2024, dir. Luca Guadagnino)
This one didn’t quite work for me. It follows Lee, an American expat in 1950s Mexico City, who becomes infatuated with a younger man. If you’re expecting Call Me By Your Name vibes, this is something entirely different. I appreciated Guadagnino’s filming, but I didn’t connect with the story. It’s based on William S. Burroughs’ 1985 novella, and perhaps it’s just not my style, or maybe the adaptation didn’t quite land. There were also some confusing choices. For instance, although it’s set in 1950, the soundtrack is full of 1980s music. The songs were great, but they didn’t quite match the story.
EMPTY PLATES
There’s a lot of discourse around AI, and I’ll add my pinch of salt to it. You know what ChatGPT is great at? Satisfying cravings with easy recipes. I love looking into my fridge, checking what fresh ingredients I have, sharing them in the chat, and asking for ideas. I usually include the quantities, the kind of vibe I’m after, and the flavours or cuisine I’m craving. Within seconds, I get a step-by-step recipe. All that’s left is the cooking. Sometimes I tweak it or ask for substitutions. More often than not, it turns out well.
I’m a decent cook, but I’m not a baker. To be honest, I don’t enjoy it much. I always resent the aftermath: washing up bowls, spatulas, and trying to get flour out of every corner. I do like scraping the bowls, though. And truthfully, most of what I bake is okay, but rarely exceptional. Some of us are bakers. Others are meant to just eat. I’ll proudly take that job.
This month, I made some miso cookies that were rich, savoury, and dangerously addictive. The miso added a deep flavour that balanced beautifully with the sweetness of the sugar. The edges were slightly crisp, the centre soft and chewy — exactly how I like my cookies. These are not what you'd call healthy. There’s a lot of butter and sugar involved. But the beauty of ChatGPT is that you don’t have to do all the research for substitutions. Want to make them vegan? Just ask, and it’ll give you alternatives with precise measurements. It’s not all bad, especially when it helps satisfy a craving. I’ll make them again. Next time, maybe a more classic version with white chocolate chips.
Another time, I baked Love & Lemons’ Oatmeal Breakfast Cookies. They were the perfect grab-and-go breakfast. The oats made them filling, the almonds added a nice crunch (I swapped in almonds for the walnuts, which I don’t enjoy), and the blueberries kept them a little soft.
MUSIC INTERLUDE
Yesterday, I saw Tyler, The Creator in concert at the OVO Hydro in Glasgow. It was my second time seeing him live. The first time was back in 2018, and it was wild. This time was even more intense. This dude is a genius. He has so much stage presence. Once again, I was blown away. So yes, my May soundtrack has mostly been Tyler, The Creator on repeat.
Also, can we talk about the first opening act? It was Paris Texas. I discovered them this year, and when I saw they were opening for Tyler’s concert, I was hyped. They only played 30 minutes, but they really knew how to take the scene and deliver everything. They warmed up the crowd perfectly.
My music taste is pretty eclectic, mostly leaning towards dream pop, garage, and shoegaze, but there are artists from other genres who stick with me for years. Tyler is one of those.
And when I wasn’t listening to Tyler or getting hyped for the concert, I had TV Girl x George Clanton’s new album Fauxlennium on rotation, along with MEOVV’s EP My Eyes Open Wide. Just to give you an idea of how varied my taste really is.
BOOKMARKS
I didn’t read anything wildly life-changing, but I did read a satisfying mix: some great, some good, and a couple I probably won’t remember in a few weeks.
may reading menu
Stay True by Hua Hsu (memoir)
Small Rain by Garth Greenwell (literary fiction)
We Do Not Part by Han Kang (literary/historical fiction/magical realism)
Symposium by Muriel Spark (mystery)
Enter Ghost by Isabella Hammad (literary fiction)
The Inseparables by Simone de Beauvoir (literary fiction)
Nova Scotia House by Charlie Porter (literary/historical fiction)
Stay True: A Memoir by Hua Hsu
The beginning felt a bit slow. It was as if we were circling something, unsure where we were headed. But then it hit me. Honestly, this is often the case with memoirs for me, especially when I know nothing about the author. It’s like going on dates. The first one is always a little clumsy. Then we begin to find common ground: shared teen angst, music obsessions, zine culture, and reflections on friendship. Stay True reminded me of Boy Friends by Michael Pedersen, while also diving into Asian immigrant identity in a deeply personal way. I wish more books explored male friendship like this.
Small Rain by Garth Greenwell
Last month, I read Bat Eater by Kylie Lee Baker, which was set during the pandemic. I hadn’t planned to pick up another pandemic novel so soon, but Small Rain offered a completely different lens. Here, our narrator's life is upended by a sudden, mysterious pain that lands him in the ICU. It’s a story about what it meant to be hospitalised for something other than Covid, while everything around you is shaped by the pandemic. The narrative felt almost like nonfiction or autofiction. So detailed in its medical descriptions, and so honest in its emotional resonance. It’s a beautiful portrait of vulnerability, resilience, and tenderness.
“My impression of El was one of scope, of amplitude. I had a sense vertiginous, exhilarating of the world suddenly gaining in dimensions, and becoming larger and deeper. I’m not sure it’s true to say I fell in love in that first conversation but I’m not sure it’s not true either.”
We Do Not Part by Han Kang (tr. E. Yaewon & Paige Aniyah Morris)
We Do Not Part echoed Human Acts in many ways. Again, Han Kang reflects on a haunting chapter of Korean history, this time the Jeju Uprising, through characters who are not directly involved but are deeply affected. The narrative felt hazy, almost like a fever dream. You start to wonder: Is this real? Are we in the present or the past? Dream or memory? I’m not usually drawn to magical realism (if we can even call it that), but this kind (I’m starting to feel like I should say Han Kang’s kind), blended with historical memory, completely works for me. Han Kang is an author who activates all my senses. I don’t just see what she writes, I smell it, hear it, feel it on my skin. The snow-filled imagery also brought me back to The White Book. To be honest, I’ll read anything she publishes and get translated.
Symposium by Muriel Spark
Since I live in Scotland, I’m genuinely curious about Scottish authors. I found Symposium in a charity shop for £2.50 and decided to make it my first Muriel Spark. The blurb reads: One October evening, five posh London couples gather for dinner, unaware their final guest, Hilda Damien, is running late because she’s being murdered.
Truthfully, I’m not a huge whodunit fan, and this one felt like an Agatha Christie novel, only flatter. The first several chapters introduce each couple and how they’re connected to the dinner hosts. It started to feel predictable quickly, but since it’s only 192 pages, I pushed through. Ultimately, it didn’t work for me. If you’ve read any other Muriel Spark novels, let me know which one I should try next. Or should I just skip her altogether?
Enter Ghost by Isabella Hammad
The story follows Sonia, an actress who returns to Haifa to visit her sister Haneen after years of living in London. While she’s there, she reconnects with her roots and meets Mariam, a local theatre director. Before long, Sonia is pulled into a production of Hamlet set in the West Bank.
What stood out to me was the setting. It offered a fresh perspective on the Israeli–Palestinian conflict, not in a heavy-handed political way but through an intimate, human lens. It reminds us that life continues amid the turmoil: people create, connect, resist, and find joy. Those moments of solidarity and shared purpose between characters stayed with me.
I struggled a bit with the script-like structure of the dialogue. Lines prefaced with "Amin:" or "Mariam:", followed by "pause", etc. That said, it fits the context well, as the characters are working on a production of Hamlet in Palestine. I don’t think I’m someone who would enjoy reading screenplays, but the emotional payoff here was worth it.
The Inseparables by Simone de Beauvoir (tr. Sandra Smith)
This was... okay. Written in 1954 but never published in de Beauvoir’s lifetime, The Inseparables is supposedly inspired by the author’s close friendship with Zaza (Andrée in the book). There are some lovely, intimate moments, but overall it felt kind of unpolished. Which makes sense since it was left in a drawer and never edited. You can feel that in the pacing and the writing.
It’s more of a curiosity than a must-read. Interesting if you’re into de Beauvoir or the history behind it, but not something I’d urgently recommend.
Nova Scotia House by Charlie Porter
This one took a little while to click for me. At first, it felt a bit scattered, like reading someone’s journal. Lots of inner thoughts, not much structure. But once I settled into the rhythm, I couldn’t stop.
Johnny is 19 when he meets Jerry, who’s 45. They fall in love and move into Jerry’s place, Nova Scotia House. Their relationship lasts four years before Jerry dies during the height of the AIDS crisis. Now, decades later, Johnny still lives in the house and looks back on that time: the joy, the grief, the weight of memory. So many hard moments, but also so much tenderness.
It’s a deeply personal book about queer love, loss, community, and finding your way home. It reminded me of Christodora by Tim Murphy, which also centres around the AIDS epidemic and a single building. Similar in scope but different in tone, both are powerful in their own ways.
“No one had called me dear before. I was a student, I’d come to the city thinking I’d find what I wanted to find. Without knowing what I wanted to find and I couldn’t find it. I’d done stuff before, I’ve been with guys, I’d done whatever. But I’d never find what I wanted to find. And then I found it. That was it. I met Jerry. That’d set the next 4 years. The small and the vast. Everything mattered. Always. Everything. Every day.”
There’s something to be said for the mundane. While May didn’t bring any big, life-altering moments, it offered softness and stability, and that’s a gift in itself. The month definitely ended on a high with Tyler, The Creator’s concert. What a way to close things out!
How was your May? And what are you hoping for in June?
Until next time,
Amandine
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Your blooming cactus looks amazing. Madonna in a Fur Coat by Sabahattin Ali is one of the most iconic novels in Turkey. I’m really curious to see if you’ll enjoy it. Knowing that you had a calm yet fulfilling May makes me happy.🍓
Really love the "keepsakes" section, it's so cute to have a place where you can put this little moment which make all the difference in a way.