The number of families affected by homelessness is expected to more than double in the next two decades, with a further 200,000 households affected by 2041, according to a report.

Those sleeping rough will soar by fourfold to more than 40,000 in the same period, according to research by Heriot-Watt University, commissioned by Crisis, the homelessness charity.

We asked people to share their experiences of homelessness.

Paul Curtis, 68, who lives on a narrowboat: ‘My home was repossessed because I could not pay my mortgage’

I became homeless when my marriage broke up. I had taken on a big mortgage and the interest rate went up. I became overstretched when my marriage ended. I had lost an income and then I also lost my job.



I was falling further and further behind with my debt repayments. Though I didn’t know it at the time, I think I was having a mental meltdown. I wasn’t able to cope and began drinking too much. I quit my job because I wasn’t happy with the way things were being run at the organisation. I imagined I would quickly find another job, but it didn’t work out that way.

My home was repossessed because I couldn’t afford my mortgage repayments. More than that, the will had gone. When you get hit by a few things at once it affects your ability to think clearly. You are firefighting all the time. Depression saps your energy: it makes it hard to get up in the morning and put together a rational plan.

As a stop-gap measure, I stayed with friends. What was supposed to be temporary ended up lasting a year. There was a long period when I was rudderless, moving from place to place.

To say I was lucky is an understatement – I never had to live on the streets. The people who put a roof over my head were unbelievably kind and generous and never once made me feel like I was an intruder. But I felt like an intruder. “We are going out, there’s food in the fridge. Help yourself. You know how the remote works. Don’t wait up,” they would say.

I was very aware it was not my home; my stuff wasn’t there and I made no decisions about anything. I was a guest. I would walk around the shopping centre and the streets for hours hoping to exhaust myself, looking at empty allotments and wondering if I could live there.

There’s a feeling of powerlessness when you’re homeless; you feel lost. My experience changed how I see homeless people. After a while I got over whatever it was that was going on in my head. I found a job and a flat and the friends who helped me are still, thankfully, my friends. But I have never got over the fear of homelessness, that feeling of being nowhere.

I am lucky that I now have a beautiful home in which I am very happy. I live on a narrowboat. I am warm and secure and it’s a lifestyle I enjoy – also, what with being retired, it’s a lifestyle I can afford. I know I couldn’t afford to go back into the world and pay rent; the system is rotten. Homeless people are victims of government policy over the past 20-30 years and it’s going to get worse.

Caroline Ryan, 44, from Leeds: ‘Mental illness, poverty and homelessness were interlinked’

I have been homeless twice – once when I was 23 and again at 30. Both times it was due to mental health problems.

The first time it happened I left my job because I wasn’t well. I went to stay with my parents, but it didn’t work out and my dad asked me to leave. Then I went to stay with friends.

I was still struggling and one night I had a panic attack. My friends said: “We love you but you’re starting to drive us mad.” So I left and wandered the streets.

I went to a local hostel but they turned me away, saying: “Men only, try a B&B.” My thoughts had gone haywire and I felt tormented. I just didn’t know where to go.

I went to a male friend who turned me away – until he realised I was desperate. Then he made me a bed on his living room floor. He arranged for me to stay with some of his female friends but in my unbalanced state I felt uncomfortable doing this.

I had been going to outpatient appointments at a local mental health hospital. At my next visit with the psychiatrist, I was so desperate I asked if they could take me in. I was admitted for six weeks and although it was tough, it did lead to a turnaround. They got me on medication. When I left, I got a rented room and rebuilt my life. I got part-time jobs and later went on to study.

The second time I became homeless it followed a similar pattern. I had been working part-time in a shop but ended up leaving. So I had no job and rent to pay. I applied for benefits but the money got sent to the wrong account. Eventually it got sorted out but I then became ill. I withdrew from the benefits system because I found it too complicated to handle in my confused state. I soon couldn’t afford the rent and had to leave my property.

A few friends tried to help me, and one tried to help me access benefits. I stayed at people’s houses for a few nights. My relationship with my family became strained and I was taken into a local mental health hospital. Thankfully, I never slept rough or on the streets but I was close to sleeping in a park.

The whole experience was terrifying both times, not knowing where I was going to spend the night. I felt abandoned and alone. At times I had no one to turn to. I would ask friends if I could sleep on their floor. They came through for me at first but then the help ran out.

I was warned off hostels so I didn’t want to go there. You get so many knockbacks. I remember all my belongings being stuffed into a few bags I carried around with me. Eventually things got better and I clawed my way back to sanity and got a good job.

Mental illness, poverty and homelessness were interlinked in my case – I’m sure that’s the situation for a lot of people. Safety nets can fall apart and I went into a downward spiral. I would like to see an end to the stigma attached to homelessness. It can be a terrifying and devastating experience that no one should go through.

Tony*, 57, from Somerset: ‘I was not working and taking heroin day in, day out’

I made a mistake when I was younger and got caught smoking dope. I ended up having to do a short prison sentence. After that I decided to leave my home town of Derby.

I ended up living in a London Fields tower block with a friend. I moved in with him but we fell out after a while and I couldn’t find anywhere else to go. I started squatting and travelling.

When I was in London I started taking drugs. That stopped me sorting myself out and finding a place. It wasn’t a nice time and there were not many jobs around.

I ended up being homeless on the streets on and off. I would sleep rough for a few weeks or a month. I served a few spells in prison but I would usually end up on the streets again as when I got out I had nowhere to live.

In the mid-1990s, I went into rehab and did OK for about four or five years. The recovery lasted until my son died; that sent me over the edge. After that I was not working and taking heroin day in, day out. It took me seven years to get back on track.

After another rehab stay I finally got it right and became involved with a local homelessness charity – first as a volunteer, and now as a full-time support worker.

Homeless people are just people. I will never promise a client anything because when I was homeless, some agencies said they would do X,Y or Z for me and then they’d come back with a valid reason why they couldn’t. That was tough.

My boss thinks I tend to be not too soft but maybe too understanding. It’s true that I empathise with the people I work with and see things more from their perspective.

* Not his real name.