BSc

I did it. Four years and four months. I did it. Fucking hell, I did it.

I need to thank some people.

First, my ex husband for leaving me. If he hadn't, there is no way I would have been able to do this degree. I wouldn't have been able to afford it, I wouldn't have had time as I would have still been working, and I wouldn't have had the rage-powered drive to prove him bloody wrong and achieve something.

Second, my beloved and perfect sister Perfect Jess who has proof read EVERY SINGLE ONE of my essays and told me they're brilliant, even when they aren't.

Thirdly, the OU for charging me a whole £5 to do my degree based on their old financial support system. I was in the very last year group to qualify for this, which was immensely lucky, and I am proud to have got good grades and proved that poverty doesn't equate to idiocy.

Then all my helpers. My friends (particularly Jack, Eleanor and Helen) who have given me professional advice where I've needed it on health and social care current practice, and ALL my friends who have given me wine, and support, and excused me for months at a time while I try and catch up. My twitter friends who are often on OU journeys of their own and given me so much inspiration and confidence.The FB OU support groups who have always remembered where I read something when I'm writing up an essay, and then sat nervously (if remotely) with me while we wait for results. Studying at home is more isolated than at a brick uni, but it doesn't have to be lonely.

My family - by blood, by marriage and by ex-marriage - who have been there, encouraging me, even if they're not wholly sure what I'm doing or why. They have all believed in me when I didn't believe in myself.

My kids haven't exactly been HELPFUL during all this, but they have been there. When I started, Jim was two and Jack was ten months. Now they're seven and five, and we have baby Alex as well. They have grown up watching Mummy do her 'portant work, stealing my highlighters and spilling drinks on my notes. They have reminded me why I started; to do something better, to be someone more.

Most of all though, I have to thank my Tom. Whether it's been giving me a cynical look every time I've bemoaned how awful my last essay is, or winding me up about social care so I rant out all my revision at him, or trying to scry my awful handwriting to test me on revision notes, or simply presenting me with cider or flowers on TMA-writing-day, nobody has done more than him to get me through this. I don't know how many times I have cried on him when revising because I DON'T KNOW ANYTHING and he's gently reminded me that yes, yes I do. I love him. He is my favourite.