A black day for motorists or a bold new beginning in the war on traffic congestion? Whatever your view, road tolls are here to stay. Mark Summers reports on Durham's pioneering experiment

THE sun shone and the positive mood was not diminished when the first person to pay a road toll was cornered by the media.

Yesterday morning's launch of Durham City's £2 access charge - designed to cut congestion on the narrow road leading to the cathedral and castle World Heritage Site - was only slightly delayed.

Four minutes after 10am a 1ft-high bollard rose and Angus Griffin, 57, of Cleadon, South Tyneside, pulled up at the pay machine.

Dozens of newspaper photographers and reporters crowded around his Ford Mondeo as locals looked in bemusement.

Mr Griffin and his wife, Anne, 53, who had dropped their son off at university - it is Fresher's Week - were presented with a plaque by the leader of Durham County Council, Ken Manton.

"I didn't realise I was making history,'' said Mr Griffin, who is retired and went on to make the day of the assembled council officials by giving the toll the thumb's up.

"If you look around at what is up there, and the history up the street, it is worth paying.''

Councillor Manton was delighted to get a positive response at the first time of asking. "He'd read the script,'' he laughed.

But the mood didn't last long. "We think it is disgusting,'' said tourist Andrew McRobbie, of Dover, who is on holiday with his wife, Joyce.

"They charge you £5 for parking at the cathedral. We were only there a little while and now we have to pay £2.''

One of the first local motorists to hand over his money was Matthew Hampshire, 62, of Oxhill, Stanley, County Durham, who was making exactly the type of journey the council wants to discourage.

He wasn't happy. "It's ridiculous because there are no disabled parking bays in Market Place anymore.

"I dropped my wife off and I have come back here, thinking I could go through, but now I have got to pay this charge.

"They are not thinking of the disabled. I can't see why they have closed up the Market Place.''

Another driver from out of the area making a university run was John Hodges, 52, of Bishops Stortford, Hertfordshire, who was heading home after dropping off his daughter for the new term.

"It will be quite good if it stops a lot of the traffic,'' he said.

"I didn't know the charge was coming in until I heard it on the radio coming up this morning.

"I thought there might be big queues but we drove straight through and it was easier than normal.

"I'm paying £50 for petrol to get here and back and £2 is probably as cheap as the car parks - plus I don't have to carry suitcases all the way up there."

Echo journalist gets a head start on the rest

FOR those of us who work in Durham, it seemed like any normal day.

We arrived in the city in the usual slow crawl of traffic - and discovered that it was anything but.

It seemed that the full glare of Britain's media was focused on us and the reason was as simple as a £2 charge to use a stretch of road.

Of course our financial pain was not the real matter of interest, but rather the prospect that it may be inflicted elsewhere, with plans for similar tolls in other parts of the country.

Even so, the Daily Mail's decision to send a feature writer to cover the event seemed like stretching the point a little.

Whether due to the sunshine or because people hadn't yet heard of the charge (though this seemed unlikely), the volume of traffic seemed no lower than usual as I approached the Market Place.

A bright yellow sign edged in black warned motorists of the impending toll, and you could see others paying it as they left the restricted area.

After a brief trip up to Palace Green in my silver Micra, I too approached the traffic island on which a paying machine stood.

Although I was glad to see that there was no queue, I had to wait about 15 minutes for a film crew to finish their report.

Before the toll's introduction, teething troubles were predicted and sure enough, an obvious one presented itself as I sat and waited - a man without any change.

While the paying machine was fed by a smartly-clad attendant, it seemed that she also lacked change, and in the end, the television reporter was left to fish in his pockets.

When the problem was finally solved, I approached the bollard which rises from the road in front of each passing motorist.

Thankfully better prepared than my predecessor, I produced my coins and was allowed to pass.

While expensive, the whole experience was pretty straightforward and hassle-free - hardly headline grabbing news.