Eleven.

When late morning rolls around, and you’re feeling a bit out of sorts, don’t worry; you’re probably just a little eleven o’clockish.

A. A. Milne, from The House at Pooh Corner

Elvis Costello & The Attractions, ""(The Angels Wanna Wear My) Red Shoes"

I used to be disgusted

Now I try to be amused ...

Elevenses.

Glimpses.

The Idler on the importance of Elevenses ...

Sometimes it was biscuits, sometimes a Tunnocks caramel wafer, and sometimes he made banana sandwiches on brown bread. He mashed up the bananas with a lot of sugar. I imagine he had a cup of tea with this little feast.

“Elevenses, elevenses!” he said, grinning and clearly relishing the sound of the word itself. There’s something comical in it, isn’t there? It sounds almost like a baby word, like an affectionate nickname.

Even today, though he is nearly 80 and lives an ascetic lifestyle on a meditation retreat near Oxford, he still loves stuffing his face with biscuits at 11, or, more likely, ten to.

[T]hose divine and rapturous joys of which through the poem, or through the music, we attain to but brief and indeterminate glimpses.

Edgar Allan Poe, from "The Poetic Principle"

Thanks, Mum and Grandma Chenoweth.

Smackerel.

Smackerel.

Creamed herring, generously piled on a saltine, goes down the gullet.  Wrap a chunk of Pinconning cheddar in a towel, stuff it in the pocket, and off to the woods ...

Joys.

The Idler on the importance of Elevenses ...

Sometimes it was biscuits, sometimes a Tunnocks caramel wafer, and sometimes he made banana sandwiches on brown bread. He mashed up the bananas with a lot of sugar. I imagine he had a cup of tea with this little feast.

“Elevenses, elevenses!” he said, grinning and clearly relishing the sound of the word itself. There’s something comical in it, isn’t there? It sounds almost like a baby word, like an affectionate nickname.

Even today, though he is nearly 80 and lives an ascetic lifestyle on a meditation retreat near Oxford, he still loves stuffing his face with biscuits at 11, or, more likely, ten to.

[T]hose divine and raptorous joys of which through the poem, or through the music, we attain to but brief and indeterminate glimpses.

Edgar Allan Poe, from "The Poetic Principle"

Thanks, Mum and Grandma Chenoweth.