I WOKE in the middle of the night. I was panicking. It was Sunday tomorrow and I hadn't cut the front lawn. I hadn't weeded the dandelions from between the cobbles in the path. I hadn't cut down the dead daffodil stems yet. There was couch grass creeping out from under the plum slate mulch, and the roses desperately needed deadheading. I would have to get up early and sort it all out, but I would have to be quiet because I didn't want to disturb anyone. That meant that I couldn't cheat and take the weeds out of the path with the strimmer (works a treat but you do get through a lot of strimmer cord). I would have to get up early and do it all by hand.

I woke again with the light streaming in from behind the curtains. It was the bells that had woken me. Oh, no, not the bells. That meant that it was all too late. That meant that it was 9.30am. That the church service was just about to start. That the congregation had walked past my front gate. That they had all seen the weed invasion that had taken place in my front garden over the past week.

In my mind, I could see them all solemnly shaking their heads. I could hear them all tutting. I had fallen from grace.

How could I call myself a gardener when I have weeds in my garden?

I'm pleased to say that I have tidied everything up now, and that nobody had actually noticed the slightly ragged edge to the garden. Nobody except myself, that is. The weeds will all be back again next week, if not before, and I will be pulling them all out again. It's one of those battles that every garden presents to every gardener. It is a very cleverly designed garden that never gets colonised by weeds at one time or another. Of course there are things that you can do to minimise the chances of them appearing, but even if you concreted the whole area you would get something popping up somewhere.

Why is it that we spend half of our horticultural existence pulling out certain plants whilst encouraging other plants to spread? What is it that defines a plant as a weed? Most people know the saying that 'a weed is just a plant growing in the wrong place', but there is more to it than that. Much of it is to do with our perception. If we know it as a weed, or a common plant, then we simply do not want it growing in our garden. Yes, it is snobbery. More than that though, a weed is a plant that is quite contrary to the name that we have given it. When we call someone a weed we are referring to some form of weakness or cowardness. In the plant world, a weed is a successful bully. It is stronger than its competitors and it has found ways to get rid and outdo all those around it.

Annual weeds produce an enormous number of seeds, seeds that can be spread far and wide using a variety of different methods. Everyone knows about the sticky seeds of goosegrass (cleavers), the floaty feathers of the dandelion or the explosive capsules of the balsam. The seeds can withstand a battery of environmental assaults and can lie dormant until conditions are just right. This is why you sometimes see great expanses of plants such as poppies and willow herb after ground clearances.

Perennial weeds tend to have a million miles of roots that sprout up from the smallest morsel left in the ground. They intertwine amongst the herbaceous plants and make it difficult to separate them without damaging the cherished flowers. The bindweed, for example, can spread over an area of 30 square metres in a single summer. The roots have been known to go down as far as seven metres.

The buttercup has another tactic. As well as sending out runners over the surface, it emits a toxin from its roots, which poisons neighbouring plants.

Despite the extra work that they provide us with, you do have to admire the methods that weeds have used in becoming so successful. By understanding the way in which each one works, you can work out how best to tackle them. It is all about getting to know your enemy.

As well as reading the gardening column here in The Northern Echo every Saturday you can listen to Brigid on Radio Cleveland's Garden Hour each Sunday morning from 11am to midday.