Rony Bridges wants to build a school in Uganda, and I have to meet him in Govan to hear about it. Not the Govan of shipbuilding and football that we all know, but in an industrial estate marooned by the fast-flowing ribbon of the M8 heading to the airport. This is where McTear's Auctioneers, a 140-year-old Glasgow firm now holds its sales after decades in the city centre.

In amongst the paintings, antique furniture, coins and medals I spy the tall figure of Rony with his immediately recognisable shock of silver hair. I first met Rony when he managed Oran Mor, the west end bar/theatre/restaurant where he harboured thoughts of being a writer. Unlike many in the west end who say such things, he actually did something about it and wrote Six and a Tanner, the dark yet funny tale of growing up in working-class Springburn which David Hayman brilliantly performed at Oran Mor, stalking around a coffin.

Then Rony tried acting. With his lived-in Glasgow coupon he immediately found work as what they call a "character actor" with short but telling appearances in films including the new Star Wars epic. "You can see the back of my head in a trailer seen by 65m people," says Rony, who adds that the filming was so secretive, the actors were not even handed scripts.

But Rony's not here to talk about space battles, but instead bricks and mortar. His partner Michaela Foster Marsh, an ethereal beautiful singer who Rony clearly adores, is still deeply affected by the death of her adopted brother Frankie, originally from Uganda, who died in a house fire.

With the help of friends and business contacts, Michaela and Rony set up the charity Starchild, which is building a school for creative arts in her brother Frankie's native Uganda. The reason we are at McTear's is that the saleroom is helping the charity with an on-line auction, entitled Art for Africa, of 140 paintings donated by artists both in Scotland and Uganda which anyone can bid for from their computer until Sunday. Beware though. It's strangely compelling, and if Herald readers don't join in, I could be down a few quid. There are plenty of paintings still available at £30 opening bids, but prices tend to grow just before the cut-off point on Sunday evening.

So far in Vvumba, Uganda, the walls of the three-classroom school have been built, and the roof goes on soon. But a school for the arts? Is that what they really need in Uganda? Well actually they do. As Rony explains: "All the kids want to be nurses, doctors and lawyers. It's sort of drilled into them. They've got no shoes, no pencils, nothing - and they all want to have these jobs, but all of them can't be, and some of those kids can slip through the net if they're at all creative."

Well I'm with Rony on this one. Someone becoming an artist or performer rather than a lawyer has got to be a good thing. Michaela tells me that the less academically minded children in Uganda are pushed aside. "Many poorer children there will never get the opportunity to study the arts, hold a paint brush, touch a canvas or play an instrument. Starchild aims to change this."

Of course everything does not go smoothly. Prices quoted for work in Uganda magically change every few days. People simply double, treble, figures, just to test whether the well-meaning people in the West actually have a clue. Challenge them, and figures rapidly reduce, without any embarrassment at all. It seems it's a national sport.

"It's bonkers," says Rony. "But you don't lose your temper as that would be seen as a sign of immaturity." Rony though didn't grow up in Springburn without learning the value of money, and he calmly ensures that Starchild does not pay figures plucked from the stars. They get sent photographs at every stage to ensure the work actually takes place.

Mosquito nets for example which can actually save people's lives: Rony is quoted £4 each when he tries to buy 50 in Uganda. Then the price goes up to £700 then £1500. "They have no shame," says Rony, who eventually buys them at £1.20 each.

After the roof goes on, money will be needed from this auction for toilet blocks, teachers, supplies, a further extension, accommodation. The eventual plan is for some of the British artists to go out and take classes. Glasgow artist Frank McFadden

Rony meanwhile is humbled by the help of the artists. "I know how hard it can be to survive in the arts, let alone give your work away," he says. McTear's are doing their bit by donating their buyer's premium from the sale. I get my bid in for a Stephen Gwoktcho painting. Did you know that Stephen has been commissioned to paint the President of Uganda? Doh! I wish I hadn't told you that. Going to be outbid now.

Hopefully Stephen will, in his chats with President Yoweri Museveni, one of Africa's longest serving presidents, put across Starchild's message that as a country grows it needs its artistic ambassadors as much as its scientists.

Closer to home, Maryhill artist Frank McFadden donated a pastel entitled Connected which is a collection of merging faces . "It's only a piece of card or canvas and some paint and some time - but it could make a difference to someone in Uganda," he said modestly

So how did Rony get so many artists to donate? Simple. He just asked. "Life's too short not to," he says. And perhaps Rony knows better than many of us. He recently was diagnosed with lung cancer. "For a while there they thought my tea was oot," he says, but treatment has been successful.

Anyway, I paused there to check the auction site at McTear's and ended up putting in another three bids. Being Scottish I knew I would be addicted to something. Just never thought it would be charity art auctions.