CAN anyone relax at an auction?

That some people go for pleasure, I find hard to fathom. The simple fact that you are there to bid your hard-earned cash against someone else's is stressful in itself.

The last time I went to an auction, I couldn't afford any of the items on display. It was in Greenwich, south east London, and I had gone with my sister's then-boyfriend, a wheeler-dealer who carried wads of notes around in his pocket, with denominations the like of which I'd never seen before. I'm sure he had £1,000 notes, and if he didn't then he certainly had stacks of others making up ten times that sum.

He was obviously an old hand in the saleroom, nodding, winking and blinking at the auctioneer who kept track of the nudges, nods and waves of a room full of people.

We came away with various items of furniture, much of which he would sell on for a fat profit.

At the weekend I attended an auction for the second time. Much less formal, it was held at the sports club in our village, where gardening equipment belonging to the club was being sold off.

"Various packets of weedkillers," "Lawn edge clippers, useful bits of wood, teak oil etc", "Three tubs of forest green fence paint, other paint materials," and so it went on.

There were some costly items, such as lawn mowers, but most of the lots started at less than £1, going up in bids of 20p.

Even then, it is nerve racking. Bidding against friends and neighbours isn't the best way to further community relations.

"Why did that man keep bidding higher than you?" my eldest daughter asked my husband, after he lost out in a fiercely contested bidding war for lot 21: "Various tools: hatchet, bow saw, spanner, plug tool, etc."

It went for £6.50. We later learned that our rival was a local handyman and wanted the tools for his business. It wasn't personal.

That's the trouble with auctions - if there are only two of you bidding, it is easy to get it into your head that your rival hates you and is deliberately trying to stop you getting your hands on the items you covet.

"How dare you?" you think, as they push up the price.

Then there are those odd people who enter the fray after a dozen bids have been made. As if they don't want the item at such a cheap price, but start to covet it once it attracts more bids.

I can understand why buyers in big money auction houses such as Christies make telephone bids. Remaining anonymous is surely better than suffering the sidelong glances of rivals, and being unable to scratch your head for two hours in case it registers as a bid.

I felt tempted to ring in with my 20p starter bid for lot 35: "Catering items: three cheese boards, a huge tin of baked beans, aluminium foil etc." It was the foil I had my eye on - a massive roll, enough to make several sets for Dr Who. I wanted it to wrap packed lunches. I use acres of the stuff and it costs a fortune.

To my surprise, telephone bids did not seem to be featuring, so I pledged my cash and, after a brief bidding frenzy between me and another villager, I secured the prize for a bargain £2.60.

I might put the beans on e-Bay.