But this is, of course, is to miss the point. They will open and close the bridge, orchestrate the lighting program, just for its own sake. The bridge has a lot in common with the London Eye, a.k.a. the Millennium Wheel, in London. The Eye is a suspension bridge turned into a mechanical rotating object for pure pleasure. The Gateshead bridge - though it retains its bridgeness to the extent of actually connecting banks across a river - comes from the same mindset and, from certain angles, even looks the same. This is why Eyre has built stainless-steel seats into it: people are meant to come and linger, not march across at the double. The only drawback is that you are not actually allowed to ride the bridge as it moves - a missed opportunity, surely?

All these functional quibbles are valid. And let’s dismiss them. For me, the bridge is a triumph. It is particularly good when it rotates into its fully-open position, at which point the suspension cables form a ceremonial arched vault over the river and the enormous width of the structure is most apparent. As Eyre says: “It had to be a landmark in a city full of landmarks. So it had to be different, it had to be light and slender”.

It’s all relative. Look at Eyre’s bridge silhouetted in the arch of Newcastle’s great High Level Bridge behind, and it indeed appears fragile. But stand on it, and despite the finesse apparent in bringing the arch and the deck to fine chamfered edges, it’s clear that this is a very big, even beefy, object. Scale, remember, is important. An ordinary little bridge hopping from quay to quay would have been lost. This one knows it has a part to play in an extraordinary cityscape, and it revels in the opportunity.