I FIND it ironic that sculptor Antony Gormley is trying to make the people who paid him a large sum of money for the eyesore on the hill get rid of the trees that are now growing up around it.
It brought to mind a song I learnt in school circa 1947-ish.
The opening lines were: I think that I shall never see, A poem lovely as a tree.
Then it closed with the lines: Poems are made by fools like me, But only God can make a tree.
I wish I could remember more.
I do remember having to learn three verses, but I doubt very much if there will ever be a song written about the Angel of the North, a corroding hulk that lives on a hill.
With luck the trees will hide the angel and tourists will come in their hundreds looking for the North-East Folly. It reminds me of a Cessna aircraft with its tail stuck in the ground corroding away.
I welcome PA Aspinall (HAS, July 18) to the club of the unimpressed.
ME Harris, Darlington
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