There, but for the grace of God, go I

I was driving through London the other day when I saw a line of men queuing to get into a homeless shelter for the evening. One or two of them had the uncertain sway of heavy drinkers, but most were listless and mute. I probably would have thought no more about it, but one young man caught my eye. He wore a white shirt with pressed grey flannels and an almost matching jacket – the uniform of an office clerk or minor public servant. He carried a holdall as he calmly waited his turn. What on earth was he doing there, I wondered? He didn't look the "type" at all.

I suspect my notions on the subject stem almost entirely from the movies – and from one summer when I and two other innocent 18-year-olds, fresh from boarding school, headed out across Europe by train. We were three of the most naive girls you could ever come across, raised in a cloistered environment where Top of the Pops was watched in black and white because colour was deemed too exciting.

For a month our trio slept in railway stations, flea-ridden bed and breakfasts and once – due to an understandable misreading of a phrase book – a brothel in Rome. Based on this, I had a rather romantic notion of the hobo life. Of course, it's nothing like that.

So, now I've shown you my ignorance on the subject of the homeless, you might think I would leave it there – except I can't. I am about to chair a debate on the subject, so I've done some research and let me tell you, things ain't what I thought they were.

The fact is that the landscape of homelessness has changed considerably in the past 30 years. It's no longer all about rough sleeping: the real crisis is going on behind closed doors and about 95% of homelessness is hidden. According to the charity Crisis, about 400,000 people in the UK live in hostels, B&Bs and squats or on friends' floors. Many are isolated, with no guarantee of being able to hold on to what little shelter they have.

I knew nothing about this before I sat down and did some reading. I knew we had to be talking about the most marginalised and vulnerable people in society, but the scary thing is that it could happen to anybody: you fall out with your family (like my friend), you suffer domestic violence, you have a breakdown, you have a few drinks too many a few times too often, your landlord takes against you, you lose your job.

I think the clue’s in the name: you are ‘homeless’, not ‘houseless’. Having a home implies some kind of security, a support network, people who care

A lot of people who find themselves rootless do so after years of emotional damage and isolation. They may have mental health problems or addictions. What, I wonder, had happened to my neat young man in the shelter queue, that he couldn't manage to get himself a space of his own?

We do well to remember that these are people. Recently, Newham council in London was rebuked by the High Court for not allowing homeless people to view accommodation before they decided

whether to accept it. The council said they were just trying to meet government targets – tell that to the Muslim woman who was housed above a pub, where she received relentless racist abuse from its patrons.

I am beginning to understand that solving homelessness doesn't just mean sticking a roof over someone's head. I think the clue's in the name: you are "homeless", not "houseless". Having a home implies some kind of security, a support network, people who care.