Off I go to auction

I went to the public auction of Camden's council houses and flats today as I've been thinking of bidding for one.

One of the six properties up for grabs to private developers was a six bedroom house near my son's school. Location perfect as it wouldn't interrupt his education but we don't need six bedrooms. What a political point that would make though. Can you imagine? The council says it doesn't have any large properties for big families and there I am having just bought one.

Just prior to going I went to the local press and asked a journalist I'd met before where it was happening, at what time and also what I planned to do.

"You're not planning to use the press to do this are you?" and I told him "there's a part of me that doesn't want the press there at all."

The auction was taking place in Piccadilly in the Bafta building. Things are never as you imagine. I imagined a room full of men, slick property developers (though where I got that image I do not know). I walked in and along one table were all print outs of the 'lots' for sale. I looked for Roderick Road. Lot 12. I had plenty of time before picking my son up from school.

Men and women of all descriptions milled around. Of course this wasn't just the sale of council flats, there were all those repossessed properties, whose previous owners were no doubt gutted they couldn't buy back their homes at a bargain price.

I got chatting to two private developers and asked them what they thought about the council auctioning off its properties. "If people want to buy it they should be able to buy it," he said. "It's no different from the Right to Buy."

"Yes it is!" I said. "Right to buy is symbolic of a secure tenancy for people. What do you think of these sales given that there are 1000's of people on the waiting list needing these homes?"
"Haven't thought about it to be honest," said his pal.

There was free tea and coffee but I was already zinging from the espressos I'd drank as I'd thought and thought and thought again whether what I planned to do was the right thing to do.

The bidding began. One bearded man with the hammer and two either side of him who would field the bids.

The first council flat up for grabs was a one bedroom garden flat. "Lot 3". Up the bidding rose, £150,000 and soon to £176,000. "Are we all done?" said the auctioneer. "Is there any better than £207,000?" It seemed so, the hammer went down at £209,000.

Lot 9 was the next Camden property, a six bedroom place with a garden and cellar. "We're opening the bidding at £500,000, £500,000..." It was like watching a game of ping pong, two people pitted against one another, then as one said "no" another bidder would pop up and keep the game going. 910,920, up up up, I looked to my left where I couldn't see the bidder then back to my right where he was tall with silver hair. He stopped at £1,000,000. The flat went to a couple for £1.1 million.

I approached them afterwards and congratulated them on their successful bid. I asked them what they'd do with it to which they replied they'd develop it for the rental market. They said they weren't allowed to live in it - a condition of the sale. I didn't know they weren't allowed to live in it themselves. It's so the council can put the likes of me in there afterwards under its Private Rental Scheme. A sweet deal for these developers and private landlords. The state will pay the mortgage and give them a little extra for taking us in the first place.

When I asked what they thought of what the council was doing, the woman said "no comment". I asked if they agreed with the council continuing to auction flats with the vast numbers on the waiting list and must have pricked the man's conscience as he said "I didn't know, I've never done this before. The council got a good price, they made £200,000 more than they would on the private market." And that makes it ok does it? I didn't say that though. That's the argument I should have with Nail'er.

Lot 12 was the one I'd had my eye on. I thought it was a six bedroom house but the auctioneer said: "This one's been kitted out as a hostel." My instincts went all over the place. I couldn't bid for this. I would be saying it's perfectly alright to have children living in hostels. I was tempted to raise my hand, see what that felt like, but the bidding was progressing so much slower than Grenille Road that I was quite afraid it would stop with me when I didn't want it.

"£690, a very cheap house, any advance on £690?" It went for £725,000 in the end. A 'middle class' woman got up from a seat saying "I wish I had money, a bargain that one," to which the younger man who'd been standing beside me said "It would've got more if it were empty."

I kept thinking they've just sold a hostel when yesterday St Mungo's released research that street homelessness has risen by 15% in London.

I am tempted to go back and bid for one. I will do as the journalist suggested and get some advice first. When I do it, I will invite the local press. Earlier when I was waiting for him to come downstairs with information about the auctions a song popped into my head.

"I'm just a soul whose intentions are good, oh Lord, please don't let me be misunderstood (Nina Simone)

I smiled to myself. Is that my song for this? It won't be easy. I will have to be incredibly brave and incredibly strong because the auctioneers will want me led away like a nutter. If I don't win the lottery then I have to do this. And if I do this, I have to make the point for everyone else.