Correlation does not equal causation. This is one of the wisest pieces of advice I have ever heard. In short, it effectively means don’t assume because it might lead you up completely the wrong path.

We can all understand how this might apply to the pandemic crisis – in fact it is a basic rule of general research and epidemiology. In one case a study directly linked football matches taking place in March with an increase in cases of COVID in April. However, as one critic put it: “They have not actually linked cases or outbreaks to football matches and there is no mention of contact tracing or outbreaks that have been obviously linked back to football attendance.” It could all simply have been a coincidence with another, as-yet unidentified source responsible.

I am keeping this example at the forefront of my thinking in assessing the extraordinary turn of events at my auctions since the lockdown started: soaring prices, unprecedented sell-through rates and a much wider net of bidders. A number of obvious causes spring to mind, from bored workers sitting at home looking for somewhere to spend their money to new bidders finally logging on to take part because there was no other way of buying at auction.

I’m sure both of these play a part, but it is clear that other factors are also at play.

Opening bids of ten times the estimate for fairly run-of-the-mill items at our latest books sale are a case in point. I haven’t got to the bottom of this phenomenon yet, but believe me, I’m working on it.

One of the most important anniversaries has recently passed: 80 years since the beginning of the Battle of Britain. Lasting from July 10 to October 31, 1940, it was arguably the first major turning point of the Second World war. Certainly, Hitler’s failure to beat The Few effectively ended any ambitions he might had had to invade across the Channel.

As with other major conflicts, it is the engagements that changed the course of history or were so heroic (and sometimes foolish) that they have captured the public’s imagination like no other, that give rise to the most sought after militaria and campaign medals at auction.

The romantic ideal of the Spitfire pilot soaring through the clouds above our heads comes second to none in filling the role of the dashing hero, so anything associated with them, especially now that we are down to the very last one still alive, will create considerable excitement.

I was reminded of all this by the news of the sale of a nine carat gold Caterpillar Club Irvin pin put up for sale in the past week, with final bids in by October 4.

Awarded to Supermarine Spitfire pilot Kapitan Stanislaw Zygmunt Krol in 1942, the pin honoured the successful escape by parachute of airmen bailing out of a disabled plane wearing a parachute made by the Irvin Air Chute Company. The Caterpillar is a nod to the silkworm, whose efforts created the material for the parachute.

Krol’s own history is remarkable. Repeatedly escaping as a prisoner of war, he ended up in Stalag Luft III, setting for the film The Great Escape.

For all the controversy surrounding various members of the Royal Family recently, the fact remains that few things sell as well at auction as items with a Royal connection. The closer to the Monarch, the better, as the silver cigarette case and letter from King George VI to Lionel Logue, his speech therapist, showed recently at auction when it sold for over £60,000. As you may  remember, the relationship between the King and Logue was the central theme of the film The King’s Speech.

Now we have the exciting spectacle of Princess Margaret and Lord Snowdon’s personal belongings coming under the hammer. In this case, not only are we talking about the Queen’s sister, but also about a glamorous society couple with a notoriously scandalous lifestyle that led to divorce.

In cases like these, what fascinates is not the expensive furniture, jewellery and pictures but the knick-knacks, toys and other highly personal trinkets that shed light on the personalities behind the public personae.

So what do we have here? A Snowdon photograph of a natterjack toad climbing out of a glass tumbler, an Inuit soapstone model of a walrus, a framed Punch cartoon, a brass fire helmet and three silver-plated and warthog-tusk masks from the Snowdons’ 1965 Uganda tour. Make of these what you will.

Two pairs of rather ordinary spectacles offered at auction, nine months apart. One sold for £137,000, the other for almost twice as much at £260,000. What is the difference?

The first pair, green-tinted and missing a screw, had been left in the back of Ringo Starr’s Mercedes in the summer of 1968. Of course they belonged to John Lennon, outspoken self-appointed leader of The Beatles and one of the nation’s foremost cultural icons of the 20th century.

It was not just that they were Lennon’s that made them so expensive, however; it was really because the specs themselves were the defining feature of his physical persona – the accessory from which he was instantly identifiable and so, really, considered a part of his personality itself.

The same, too, can be said for the second pair of spectacles; also small, round and a defining part of their owner’s persona. Of course, I am talking here about the pair belonging to Gandhi that sold at auction in Bristol in August.

Like Lennon, Gandhi was a cultural icon, and while Lennon was to a degree an anti-establishment political figure, Gandhi was the global personification of this phenomenon.

In both cases, what we are talking about here are ‘religious’ relics, items representing ideals that resonate so much with our contemporary consciousness that they are imbued with an almost magical ability to provide a direct link to the extraordinary figures whose faces they once graced.