Eventually the clouds opened up ...

and we found the hazy sun

... who doth permit the base contagious clouds
To smother up his beauty from the world,
That, when he please again to be himself,
Being wanted, he may be more wonder’d at,
By breaking through the foul and ugly mists
Of vapours that did seem to strangle him.

- William Shakespeare, Henry IV, part I

(See Extras for more photos of the paler-than-the-moon sun without faffing.)