When as a child and adult I used to express my frustration when things didn’t go to plan, my late mother used to recite this well known saying: If at first you don’t succeed, try, try and try again.

I’d be the first to admit that I had a reputation in my family for being a little stubborn and headstrong – but I took this particular advice from my mother to heart and whenever life became tough and I faced disappointments, I always resolved to keep moving forward and not give up.

Such was the case when I decided last year to embark on a PhD in journalism and made several applications both within and outside London for funded studentships. I was prepared to relocate to the north, but Scotland, Wales and Ireland were ruled out.

Around May, the “we’re sorry…you are unsuccessful” letters started to arrive. A couple of universities liked the proposal but said that they had no-one to supervise me with the necessary academic expertise of my particular subject.

Finally, the last university, Salford, and one of my favourites, said that whilst I had been narrowly beaten for a full scholarship (they had 100 applicants), they would be willing to offer me a self-funded place while other options were explored.

So I set about trying to find a job in Manchester so that I could relocate there with the aim of studying full-time, but the only media/journalism role I could find and which was offered to me was too low in the pay scales to make this option viable.

I was then offered a fee waiver by Salford in return for teaching six hours a week, which on the surface seemed a wonderful alternative. But while I was still living and working in London, the costs to commute to Manchester were too high, and I would be required to teach at least two days per week.

I went back to the drawing board and came up with plan D, which was to switch to part-time study, pay my fees and commute to Manchester twice a month to meet with my supervisors. This would be quite a challenge, but I was prepared for it and just a couple of weeks ago I finally registered as a part-time PhD student.

I tried plan A – to get a full scholarship and failed. I tried plan B to fund full-time study by working part-time in Manchester, and failed. I tried plan C, to take a fee waiver and stay in London, this was not viable. Finally I tried plan D, switched to part-time, self-funded study. My mother would be proud of me, I told myself.

But at the eleventh hour last week, I had the uplifting news that the original scholarship awardee withdrew, and as the runner up, the full-time scholarship was offered to me! After all my plans and manoeuvres that had finally resulted in a workable schedule, I was almost exasperated that I had been offered a scholarship after all my struggles– but the news was still welcome!

From as early as last autumn, I was determined to start a PhD this year, no matter what. In the end, luck played a part in me ending up with a full scholarship enabling me to study full-time; but I would still be studying part-time without it.

So it seems that my mother was very wise when she said: If at first you don’t succeed, try, try and try again.

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