IN the few moments before he joined his fellow graduates-to-be in the front rows of Glasgow’s Royal Concert Hall, my husband was approached by an elderly man who vigorously shook his hand.

“Well done, my man, well done,” said this complete stranger, a dad or husband or grandfather celebrating his own relative’s success and so overcome with pride and joy he could not help but share it.

No-one does graduation ceremonies like the Open University in Scotland. For a moment, as we took our seats to the solemn strains of Frank Bridge’s Adagio in E, emanating from the organ on a stage bedecked with imposing floral arrangements, it felt a bit like being at a funeral.

That feeling was quickly dispelled however, by Professor Josie Fraser, deputy vice-chancellor, who warmly encouraged graduates to celebrate creatively as they collected their degree.

“He won’t dad-dance across the stage, will he?” said the 11-year-old, suddenly fearful.

He did not, thankfully. Instead, his smooth, stumble-free walk, smiling and proud, was perfect. Celebration – joyful, hard-fought, richly-deserved – was in the air. Scotswoman and MP Jennie Lee helped to found this ‘university of the air’ – a place of learning for those who, for whatever reason, could not get there by traditional means; a place open to all, which believes where you start in life should not determine where you go.

You only had to look at the faces of the graduates and their families to know how much this meant to them. Many have overcome significant challenges in their lives to get here.

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For my husband, doing a full-time job and being a full-time dad, caring for his family through the kind of health hiccups and stressful situations which are just part of daily life, was challenge enough without adding six years of full-on study into the mix.

It was never easy – some wise person once said the only thing harder than doing an OU degree is living with someone doing an OU degree. Every so often, a tense hush would fill the house, as deadline day approached. My sons and I would go to bed, never quite sure if we’d rise in the morning to find their father slumped over his keyboard, textbook in ink-stained hand, surrounded by a sea of biscuit wrappers and half-drunk mugs of tea.

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I worked hard for my degree when I was a responsibility-light teenager, but it was nothing compared to doing it on top of work and family life.

Part-time study? Nonsense - to paraphrase Professor Fraser, this is double time, triple time, all-the time study, and it’s truly inspirational to the rest of us.