An encounter with a burglar causes Robert Ashton to reflect on a group of people who risk being forgotten by society.

Friends say I'm mad, but I spent the Christmas break feeling rather sorry for Doug. You see he spent the festive break on remand, rather than at home. And I played a part in his detention.

It was of course his choice to break into my home. Perhaps if he'd thought it through more carefully he wouldn’t have been caught so easily. But to be frank, he's not very bright and his focus was on funding his next fix, rather than honing his burgling technique.

I live some three miles from the town where he lives, with just a handful of near neighbours. So his chosen getaway vehicle, a push bike, was interesting. At least his dash home gave him something of a workout. He'll certainly get less exercise in our local prison.

But leaning his bike against my study window and coming in to the lit room through the unlocked French doors should have given him the clue that I wasn't far away. He looked startled though when I came in from outside and asked him if I could help. In fact he was heading further into the house when I opened the door and shouted at him. But he'd been caught in the act before so played it cool.

He told me he was lost. Clearly, I thought, lost in more ways than one. I could see my iPad was still on the desk and the drawers were all closed. My timing had been perfect. He was inside, but yet to have the opportunity to rummage.

I gave him directions to the place he was heading, told him I was sure he was not a burglar, but would he mind if I took his photo just in case. I said it was for my own peace of mind. He kindly posed for me, smiling even as I took his picture. And then he left.

Within an hour of emailing the image to the police, two constables appeared on my doorstep. It seems the guy is well known to them. They took a statement from me then went round to his house. He was arrested, charged, detained and is now awaiting a Crown Court hearing.

So why do I feel sorry for the guy? Well for one thing he was not at all intimidating. In fact he was clearly scared of me. Perhaps had he succeeded I would have felt abused. But meeting him, I realised that actually, he's not evil, just pathetic.

I've met people like him before. My work means that it's not unusual to find myself visiting organisations that support ex offenders. Too often they are the product of a complicated upbringing. They sadly lack the confidence, opportunity and to be blunt intellect, to escape from their almost inevitable destiny. Addiction and worklessness almost inevitably lead to crime.

 But what shocked me most was a chance remark by the girl who came round to check for fingerprints. 'Some people,' she said, 'just can't be helped. They're lost causes.'

And so as 2014 dawns I ask you, can we really write anyone off as a lost cause? If we give up hope that swathes of people have any hope of living a useful life, then we will create an underclass and that frankly is terrifying.

It is part of the unique value of civil society that it does not give up on people like Doug. While our state institutions are unwilling or unable to help some sections of our society, charities and social enterprises remain absolutely vital.

I'm convinced that this will be a year of growing prosperity, confidence and aspiration. Let's make sure we take the trouble to give everyone every opportunity to play a positive part in making this year fabulous. Happy New Year!