One of the legacies of the Second World War and rationing was the hoarding mentality.

I can well remember an elderly relative who used to collect plastic and paper bags, as well as string. She would use the latter to tie up neat piles of the former and stack them – never to be used again – in the hall cupboard.

For today’s de-clutterer, this approach to life is as alien as it gets, but it was an understandable mental state for those faced with long-term uncertainty, and a hard habit to kick once the threat of war receded.

Really, we should be thankful for the hoarders, for without them numerous attic finds would never have emerged into the light. Some of the best stories we read in the news these days about auctions are those that involve the discovery of some extraordinary item that has been hidden away in a barn, old chest or mouldy cupboard.

It’s not just the windfall these can bring to their unsuspecting owners; it’s also about rekindling our burning curiosity for hidden secrets that have the power to transform lives. Perhaps that’s why tales of buried treasure feature so often in our literary canon.

My favourite story is about a man who bought a painting in a Philadelphia flea market for $4 in 1989. It was the frame he wanted and when he removed the picture to re-use it, he discovered an original copy of the Declaration of Independence hidden behind. Its estimate value? Around $2.5 million.

One of the most fascinating collecting fields is that of coins. Created as trade goods, for thousands of years they have made their way across land and sea in exchange for commodities and services. As such, the most ancient of coins can be found far from the places where they were minted. They can also cast light on the lives and influence of those who lived in ancient times. For instance Ancient Greek coins were minted in what is now Sicily, part of Italy, but was then part of the Classical Greek empire.

Secrets from our own ancient history can also be uncovered by coins. The important thing is to preserve as good a record as possible of the find site; this is largely successful today thanks to the excellent Portable Antiquities Scheme, which rewards finder and land-owner alike, provided the rules have been followed.

All this sprang to mind a week ago with news of a record auction price for one of the most exciting finds ever: the first known gold coin of Caractacus, king of the Catuvellauni tribe in the first century AD. Caractacus entered legend as a leader of the resistance against the Roman invasion and features in the work of Tacitus, the Roman historian, who writes about Caractacus’s famous speech to the Roman Senate following his defeat and capture. So impressed were the Romans that they pardoned him and allowed him to live in Rome until he death.

The fact that Caractacus could mint such an impressive coin demonstrates his power and influence, while details that appear on the coin fill in other gaps in our knowledge.

The current debate around the TV series The Crown reminds me of the great closing line from the film The Man Who Shot Liberty Valance, starring James Stewart: “When the legend becomes fact, print the legend.”

I suppose it was an early example of what we now call Fake News, something that has become endemic in the multi-media modern age. Does it matter that much of what is broadcast in The Crown did not happen? I suppose it doesn’t if you approach the whole series as fictional entertainment, but because it is so clearly presented as the story of our current Royal Family, the risk is that many, if not most, people will take it at face value, and that may be neither fair nor healthy.

A similar challenge has arisen among all the art and antiques programmes on TV over the past 20 years or so. Have they been a good thing?

Many in the industry dislike them because in some cases they have presented a rather misleading picture of how things work. In reality, few people would buy from dealers in order to sell at auction – i.e. buying retail to sell wholesale – because it reverses the process, meaning you are more than likely to lose money. But sometimes the truth has to take a back seat in the interests of drama and entertainment.

It’s an irony that this fantasy is now referred to as Reality TV. Having said that, the burgeoning interest that these programmes have created in our wonderful industry is only to be welcomed.

One of the best things about auctions is that they bring an opportunity to tell little-known or forgotten stories. My favourite of the past week or so has been news that a copy of an early folio of Shakespeare’s plays is being offered with an estimate of £30,000-50,000.

This is a fourth folio dating to 1685 – a first folio would be priced in the millions; one sold in New York in October for nearly $10 million.

Comparatively little is known about our nation’s finest writer, but we do know that at the time of his death in 1616 no single volume existed bringing all his 36 plays together. That task, creating what is now known as the First Folio, was only completed seven years later in 1623 by the playwright’s colleagues and fellow actors, John Heminge and Henry Condell. Without them, it is unlikely that Shakespeare would enjoy the status he now has in our historical firmament, especially as without Heminge and Condell’s work, we would have lost at least 18 of the plays, including The Tempest, Twelfth Night, As You Like It and even Macbeth.

The First Folio was never guaranteed. The two actors had to spend some time acquiring the rights to publish and then at least as long persuading the publisher that it was a good idea. In the end it came out a year later than expected.

The Second Folio came out almost a decade later in 1632, with a third emerging in 1663.

That Third Folio is actually the rarest because it is believed so many copies were destroyed in the Great Fire of London three years later.

First Folios are, by comparison, easier to find and the latest tally is 235 copies survive today.