Sun

In the morning after our crab gathering, Vivian and I brought Euterpe to the Disneyland - Vivian got a few complimentary tickets and my daughter is a fan of Goofy and Pluto.

But I regretted the decision very soon. It was a windy and chilly Saturday morning. Our princess had to hide herself under the overcoat, and it took us some forty minutes to line up with hundreds of tourists from the mainland before Euterpe could take a picture with Mickey and Minnie.

After that, Vivian suggested to have an early lunch. I happily followed.

And it was a brilliant move. The afternoon sun was warm and charming. Our usual energetic daughter revived - I must say I also found my depression disappeared as soon as I walked under the beautiful sunshine.

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For those who have lived in Britain, the effect of sunshine on our mood is no news. When I was working in Bristol, it was not uncommon to have prolonged consecutive cold cloudy days, and people were overjoyed when they saw the sun.

Alas, I still remember in one particular winter afternoon, the sun emerged from the thick cloud after a whole week of foggy weather, the chief research fellow of my laboratory yelled, "Oh, it's the sun !"

And, you know what, everyone in the laboratory (as Hercule Poirot said, from the duke to the dustman) rushed to the garden and enjoyed a brief moment of sunshine.

It was the rare occasion I found there exists something fair for everyone in the world.