Ian was a drinking buddy – and if he couldn't sleep on my floor, it was a doorway. Though it was a good 10 years ago now, I still see him from the bus sometimes, striding along the high street with a purposeful air, guitar on his back – well-groomed and not dead. That wouldn't be possible were it not for the night shelter – he'd have died, alone and without a roof.

We both experienced spells of homelessness, but mine was far less desperate. For me, it was friends' floors for the most part, or a squat near the town centre. Not easy, but Ian, he went all the way down: to doorways, as I said, or car parks, cemeteries – anywhere away from the town centre at night.

It's deadly there sometimes – fights kicking off, kicking men when they're down. Like Ian. He was no pushover – international rugby flowed through his veins, his dad having played for his country, his uncle too. The genes showed, he had forearms like iron, but not even he could keep hold of his guitar at two in the morning – he was beaten up on more than one occasion, always had the guitar stolen, along with any money he'd earned from his busking. A once-successful session musician on the streets with nowhere to go.

He'd not stay on my floor too often – pride, I'm sure. And consideration. All I'd got was a bedsit – us boozing in that room all day was too intense, but how cold he was sometimes when he turned up, so cold, and so I'd put two bars on to thaw him out. That and more drink from the off-licence.

We drifted apart and got it together. For me, it was the local college, but for him, at last he got himself into the emergency shelter. A room, a place to keep his guitar, a bed and – of vital importance – support. They got him detoxed, on to the housing list, and months later he managed to secure a council flat.

To learn that some night shelters may close across the country because they can no longer accept housing benefit is contemptible. These shelters are a lifeline, a sanctuary for the desperate and yet, removed from the streets and doorways, local councils deliberate over what constitutes a dwelling. For example, if you need to go elsewhere to take a shower, then you might not be eligible for housing benefit – it's no longer a dwelling.

Childish. Officials argue semantics, point out the flaws in plumbing fixtures and, in so doing, put people's lives at risk.

Rick Henderson, chief executive of Homeless Link, says that government guidance is required – he's right. Shelter for the night shouldn't be arbitrary, dependent on a postcode and how that particular council interprets the law. It is a human right and the current confusion must be cleared up at once.

Decisions seem always to be made, hands wrung and time wasted, by those least equipped to deal with the matter. No experience of the real world – from Whitehall all the way down, it's always the same. This must stop.

It was a bitter wind that blew down the street yesterday – May, and they've forecast snow. You don't forget the cold, not once you've slept rough, and so I suggest to those of you who are having a hard time deciding on what is and is not a dwelling, spend a night in a car park – see if that doesn't clear up the confusion.