ANYONE who has had an allotment or has squeezed a vegetable patch into a corner of the garden will know the frustration and heartbreak of losing part or all of a crop.

You have invested so much loving care in nurturing the plants from seed, gingerly planting them out after the frosts and carefully tending to them as they mature.

Yet it really starts before that, with the endless winter hours of pawing through catalogues, magazines and books deciding on the most productive, interesting and infestation-free varieties. I usually use these as a guide to select the vegetables I want to try in the coming season, but then go out with my list and buy the seed from the nearest garden centre. I could say that it saves me money through not paying for postage, but I actually end up spending more, because I get tempted to buy at least a couple more varieties that catch my eye as I wander round the shop.

The best bit of advice I can give about growing fruit and vegetables is never to read any books on pests and diseases beforehand, especially ones with gory glossy pictures. It is enough to put you off ever committing seed to soil.

There is not one crop that does not suffer from at least one of the many afflictions detailed within. Broad beans are easy to cultivate, but can you cope with wriggling maggots erupting from pods, or the disfiguring chocolate spot, or mould and mildew? Apples do most of the hard work themselves, but they need our assistance to overcome grubs, earwigs, rot, bugs and cankers.

So how come these plants managed to survive all those millions of years ago without our help? It was our intervention that actually worsened many of the plagues.

To begin with, we would be happy to get a good 90 percent of the crop and let nature, in one form or another, have the remaining ten percent. It was enough to feed us and store a bit away for winter or emergencies. Then we got greedy and decided that we wanted it all. In order to get rid of the few pests we used chemicals, which killed off everything. Selection was minimal. This may have got rid of the particular problem at the time, but it also eradicated any natural predators, so when the bug or bacteria returned (usually stronger and now resistant to the chemical) it could multiply at an even more rapid rate, safe in the knowledge that its enemies were no longer around to devour it.

So bugs and bacteria became an even bigger problem and we had to spray at more and more regular intervals, with stronger and stronger chemicals.

In the Market Garden, at Nature's World, Middlesbrough, this year, I have tried to revert back to nature's way. I have allowed the grass and wild flowers to grow around the beds and in some cases even amongst the crops. I have interspersed vegetables with companion plants, such as marigolds, chives and horseradish. I have mixed the crops, growing carrots with leeks, and cucumbers with runner beans.

In terms of productivity, the result has been quite pleasing. Thieving bird beaks have not managed to find the massive crop of strawberries hidden amongst the couch grass, and it seems to have kept the slugs at bay too. The broad bean crop is protected by a moat of nettles, which has halted the night-time raiders. The root vegetables appear to have survived any infestation, thanks to not having a clear flying zone immediately surrounding them. The spikes on the raspberry stems have protected the entwining peas from little fingers.

It may not look quite as good, a little bit wild maybe, but I have had a much better success rate than last year, when I had properly weeded and ordered beds. Sometimes it pays to take a step back and fly in the face of modern progress.