The next morning I jumped out of bed, it was the best day of the week, The New Yorker day

I ran downstairs to fetch the magazine and I could not believe the cover.

Wow! There was the little boy from last night talking to Mr Atlas
and the snow was falling gently round them both.

Gosh, it seems everyone was talking about the boys, Mr Atlas, the Skellys, Jemima and Humph and the impending Skelly Revolution and golly gee my favorite mag, had picked up on it. I looked hard at the cover trying to find me, but it was just Mr Atlas and one of the lads.

Well I consoled myself with the thought that I NEARLY made the cover of The New Yorker over my boiled egg and lumpy porridge that morning.