“The Field of Dreams,” said Crisp my aged companion as we sat at breakfast. “Mary Mixingbowl, medieval witch, set up the field for young lovers. How quaint.”
She put down the brochure and looked into the distance, which was nothing more than the other side of the B&B dining room.
“I had dreams once,” she said, “it involved a handsome man called Ivor Been. I doted on his every word, and before long he was all I thought about. Then he moved on and became Ivor Gone.”
“How old were you then?”
“Oh, just a teenager, love was new and exciting, I thought he’d notice me but, he ran off and married Madge Sponger, the poor sod, she turned out to be a real handful.”
Crisp was silent for a moment, before announcing, the Field of Dreams would be our day out.
“It’s never too late to dream,” she said.
Written for: https://crispinakemp.com/2019/11/06/crimsons-creative-challenge-52/
Morpethroad 
And she’s right, you know: it’s never too late to dream. But the older we get, the more realistic our expectations. Still, I wish her well in her Field of Dreams. What a shame about Ivor Went.
I think she came to realise how fortunate she was with Ivor being and then going.
Ah. I’m guessing his real name was Ivor Problem 🙂
How knows, dreams may still come true. Good story Michael.
Thanks Sadje
You’re welcome 😉
I always love your Crisp stories, Michael. I think she ended up with the long end of the stick! And dreams never die, just the dreamer… 😉
Yes that’s very true Dale