"Robert Rankin - Brentford 01 - The Antipope" - читать интересную книгу автора (Rankin Robert)

mappings loaned to him by the Royal Maritime Museum. He had allowed for spring tides, onshore drift, wind
variations and even shoals of fish that might be encountered en route. He was certain of success. He had been
given the go-ahead by the Royal Navy, who had agreed to escort him with helicopter and motor torpedo boat and
keep in contact with him by certain sophisticated pieces of top-secret equipment which Norman had kindly agreed
to test for them during the walk over.
It was believed that this crossing would herald a new era in international travel. A veritable golden age was about
to dawn, and without a doubt the patent holder of this aquatic legware was sitting on (or more rightly in) a
proverbial goldmine, not to mention a piece of history. Omally groaned. 'Proverbial goldmine, he'll love that.'
The more he read, the less he liked what he read and the less he liked it the more cheated he felt and the more
furious he became. The cross-Channel walk was scheduled for the following Saturday; it was to be covered by
both channels and shown live on World of Sport. Norman was to appear that very evening on the Russell Harty
Show.
Omally tore the newspaper to ribbons and flung the pieces to the four winds.
It is not a long walk from the library to Peg's paper shop, one simply turns right down Braemar Road, right at
the bottom past the football ground, left into Mafeking Avenue and left again up Albany Road into Haling Road.
John Omally covered this distance in a time that would have made Roger Bannister hang up his spikes in
defeat. Panting, he stood in the doorway attempting to compose himself.
Two pensioners came out of the shop. 'Proverbial

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goldmine,' said one. 'Place in history,' said the other.
Omally made an attempt to enter, but found to his amazement that the usually empty and dust-hung place of
business bore a sprightly and jubilant appearance, and was going great guns in the customer stakes. Bunting hung
about the door and 'Good Luck Norman', emblazoned upon lengths of coloured toilet-roll, festooned the front
window - which suddenly bereft of its timeless Woodbine display now blazed with photographs of Royal Navy
cruisers and postcards of Captain Webb. 'Souvenir Channel Trews on Sale Now' said a card. 'Bottled Channel
Water' said another. Below this was a display of seashells and a number of jam jars apparently filled with seawater
'Bottled by the Wader Himself and priced at a quid a time.
Omally made another attempt to enter but again found his way barred, t' is time by a number of schoolgirls
wearing 'Norman Wades OK' t-shirts.
'What is the meaning of all this?' muttered the Irishman as he edged his way forward. Over the heads of the crowd
he could see that Peg had taken on two extra salesgirls. Peg's gargantuan frame, sporting a 'Norman Wades OK'
t-shirt the size of a bell tent, could be made out swinging bundles of the Brentford Mercury on to the counter and
dispensing souvenir windmills and flags to all comers. The cash register was ringing like a fire alarm. Of Norman,
however, there was no sign. Omally edged his way nearer to the counter and made some attempt to draw Peg's
attention.
'The Norman action dolls are four pounds, love,' he heard her say. 'Yes, that's right, three for a tenner.'
Omally clutched at the counter for support. 'Peg,' he stammered, 'Peg I say.' Peg finally caught sight of the
swaying Irishman. 'Hold on John love, and I'll be with you,' she said. 'Yes love, the Bottled Channel Water can
be made available for bulk export purchase.'

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The proverbial light at the end of the dark corridor, to which no doubt Norman had previously alluded in
some moment of irrelevance, was beginning to appear before Omally's bloodshot eyes. 'Could I have a word
with Norman, please Peg?' he asked.
'He's at present in conference with members of the press prior to an enforced period of lamaic meditation
necessary for him to attune himself to the correct cosmic state of awareness required for his walk,' said the
suddenly lucid Peg.
Omally nodded thoughtfully. 'No doubt then he will neither reveal himself nor the now legendary legwear prior
to the great event.'