On the sixth day of the apocalypse I found Great Nancy at the allotment tending to our runner beans

She was as normal wearing her scruffy dungarees and a pale blue tee shirt

Her bright yellow wellington boots were near the outdoor tap having been hosed down

To clarify things we were not facing an apocalypse far from it as the day was friendly and warm

In this part of the country the passing of time is called the apocalypse

Nobody knows where the word came from and why it differed from other regions

I was asked to fetch the wheelbarrow so that we might collect our produce before going to market

This is how we made our living that and walking the dogs of the rich and famous

I was due to walk the hounds of a recently deceased rock star later in the day

 And Great Nancy had been booked to feed the fish of a famous film producer

We were both engaged in writing books about allotments and larger market gardens

Mine was almost complete and was being edited by the head gardener in the Piscot Hills

Great Nancy had chosen a more difficult subject and her progress was slow but when completed

I knew that her book would outshine mine as her style was more accommodating and less oblique

Our allotment was next to a railway and in years past had been used by the station staff who lived nearby

But now it was open to all members of the community as long as they retained their orange badge

I had been with Great Nancy for nearly a hour when the first train for an hour sped by

A number of the passengers aboard were admiring her beautiful maroon ball gown which shone in the soft afternoon light

She had changed into this ball gown as she was about to water the lettuces which we grew as leaf vegetables