Initially underwhelmed by London’s version of The Hills, I can now honestly admit that Made in Chelsea is an integral part of my week (or, dare I say it, life). Who can resist peeking into the world of the beautiful, privileged youth of that oh-so exclusive SW3 postcode, not to mention all the lies, backstabbing and love affairs.

With a full appreciation of Francis Boulle’s busy work schedule, I forgave him for arriving half an hour late at Baker & Spice, a quaint patisserie just off Sloane Square where we’d arranged to meet. Would this interview be as awkward and pause-stricken as the conversations between the cast members on the show?

To my relief, Boulle was exceptionally charming, very open and chatty, expressing his sincere apologies for his late arrival. In addition to this, with a natural wit and abundance of anecdotes, it is unsurprising that he makes such a successful businessman as well as an entertaining character on E4’s reality show, Made In Chelsea (MIC).

Having been privately educated at ‘The Oratory’, an independent all boys’ boarding school in Berkshire, Boulle had long aspired to Oxford. His fondness for the city was partly facilitated by ‘one of the [girls] at St Johns’ that he used to date. ‘When I was at school I had a girlfriend who was at Oxford so I used to go up every weekend.’

His deep-rooted connection with Oxford even extends to Emma Watson, who he was rumoured to have dated back in 2008. He also spoke at the Oxford Union last term. But despite his teenage endeavours, Oxford wasn’t to be – ‘I went to interview but got rejected’ – so instead, he migrated up north and went on to study Philosophy at the University of Edinburgh.‘I had a lot of fun at Edinburgh. I set up a successful business whilst I was up there.’

Refusing to let his Oxford rejection shatter his ambition, Francis allowed his entrepreneurial streak to blossom during his university career. I wonder how, with all his business creation, he ever made time for studying? ‘I went to lectures in the first year and then a few here and there in second year. I liked Edinburgh but I didn’t feel there was enough work. I had one or two essays a term and so I kind of thought it was a bit of a waste of time and money to be up there. Which is why I would have quite liked to have gone to Oxford, at least you feel you are at university whereas I don’t really think I did.’

With an instinctive flare for business, Boulle was heavily involved in the Trading & Investment club at Edinburgh, and even founded their commodities sector, but still managed to play a lot of polo. ‘I joined a few other societies but I was quite busy doing my own thing. I had a lot of fun and I have a lot of good friends from there.’

It was also during his time at Edinburgh that he was initially approached by the producers of MIC. ‘I was in my third year and I got a message from this production company saying that they wanted to make a London version of The Hills. And I sort of ignored it because I didn’t really have any intention of doing reality television and I didn’t want the attention.’

It was only once the freshly graduated Boulle had returned to London ten months later that he was asked to reconsider becoming a part of the show, ‘I got another message from them saying “We’ve got commission to do a pilot, would you be interested? There’s no obligation to do the actual show or anything.” I thought, “It’s something new, something different, and I am in a position where I actually have some businesses that might benefit from the exposure.”’ 

Along with Boulle, the original cast included Amber Atherton and Rosie Fortesque, both of whom had been spotted in Tatler’s ‘Little Black Book’ as two of London’s finest socialites. ‘We did the pilot…and I went away for Christmas and I got a call saying “it’s been commissioned so we start filming in January if you want to do it.” I gave it a lot of thought, you have a lot of things running through your head about what doors you’re closing and what opportunities you’re closing yourself off to. The tipping point for me was having this gut instinct that this kind of program would be a massive hit in America, and in business, being able to capture a market for free is invaluable. So I took a leap of faith.’ 

Speaking to Boulle on behalf of Cherwell for even just a short coffee, his networking agenda was immediately apparent. He joined the show to advertise his Boulle brand and is now in the process of promoting his new business project Fundmine to Oxford students (aka potential employees). But, while Boulle became a cast member as a business initiative, what were the other cast members incentives? ‘I guess everyone has their own reasons. People like Spencer wanted to be famous, and looked up to people in The Hills. Everyone wants to make money from it but people do it for different reasons from being a celebrity to promoting a business.’

Considering all the confrontational arguments between the show’s cast, it’s hard to believe that the main group on the show have been friends since they were 15. To what extent does he think the script manipulates real relationships? ‘We don’t have a script, it’s all our own words. We are told to go to a location, then sat down, miked up and allowed to get on with it. You have to speak your mind because you’re forced into it. Naturally, everyone wants to come off looking the best.

‘I don’t take it all that seriously, and I suppose I am a bit more ironic on the show than some of the others. I think people who take it too seriously are opening themselves up to a fall.’ This goes some way to explaining Boulle’s tendency to come across quite awkwardly on the show. In reality, he is very switched on. 

After Boulle admits finding the work/show balance a little trickier than other cast members, I ask him about his current and future business projects, as he’s clearly an ambitious man, with multiple businesses at the age of only 23. His current focus is on expanding on is a company called Fundmine.com. ‘It’s an online agent investment community. It’s like an online dragon’s den where people and companies can raise finance to start up or expand operations.’

I ask if Fundmine is open to anyone, and he says, ‘Yes, anyone. If they have an idea and a business plan then they can put it up there and potentially gain finance to take it forward. It doesn’t have to be incredibly unique, you can take an idea or a business which is being run badly and do it yourself better: it’s innovation, not theft! Just sign up to Fundmine and see what comes of it.’ He makes it sounds so easy, and leaves me wondering whether I’d be better to quit while I’m ahead, ditch my degree, and try my luck at entrepreneurship. 

So if Francis is only using MIC as a ‘vehicle to promote [his] businesses’, and with the show now broadcasting in America, Canada, Australia, to name but a few, I can’t help but wonder if there will come a time when he will leave MIC to further pursue his business objectives? ‘I’ll stay in the show for as long as it’s of use to me. I never wanted to be defined by something I haven’t created myself so I would put a cap on how long I would go on a reality TV show. I’ve been offered my own show a couple of times so I need to give that some thought.’

After spending some time with, and catching a glimpse of the real Francis Boulle, it’s evident to me that his sharp business mind and copious charisma are indicators of his further reality television potential. Fingers crossed ‘The Francis Boulle Show’ will be hitting E4 this time next year.

With April showers persisting into May, punting and croquet can’t quite be relied on to provide distractions from the impending Finals, Prelims and essay crises. But procrastination is not as far away as you think, in fact it’s easily found at 16-17 Turl Street.

The Turl Street Kitchen, opened by the Oxford Hub not even a year ago, is something of a den. Its kitchens serve delicious, reasonably priced food, all of which is ethically produced and locally sourced, a comfort to your greener concerns. As a bonus, it also closely resembles your granny’s living room, complete with a roaring fire and scones. 

The whole building is literally a hub of activity: the Hub runs regular film screenings, talks in the library and workshops on green-roofing on the terrace for the eco-friendly procrastinator. Not only is it a hang out for G&T drinking twenty-somethings, but it is somewhere where you can make a difference, and seek distraction from long hours of Rousseau in the Radcam.

It is here that the Oxford Hub is rooted, the local branch of the national student charity set up five years ago, which aims to help students track down and get involved in causes they are passionate about. It is well established as the focal point of charitable activity in Oxford, a positive centre of ‘make tea not war’ (and undoubtedly a great CV booster to anyone looking to get involved).

If you take a more passive approach to charity there is still lots in store. The Hub is celebrating its 5th birthday this week, which means the TSK will be brimming. Starting with its Birthday Tea Party on Tuesday, the Hub has been running events all week, culminating in its House Party today. There will be live music from singer-songwriter Jake Morely, supported by local favourites Red and Other Colours, and Michael Teckman.

On top of this a trio of comedians are performing: Chris Turner, Matt Richardson and Alex Clissold-Jones, all previous finalists in national comedy competitions. And because a party isn’t a party without food and drink the Hub is putting on quite a spread, accompanied by films and beanbags on the terrace. For £3. On Turl Street. Yes, you heard right.

For anyone looking to make a difference, thrash your friends in a game of Risk or even just an atmospheric place to hang out that is a halfway house between the library and the pub, you’ve found your retreat. It’s as much of a hustle and bustle as you make it, opens early, closes late and, by the way, does great scotch eggs.

It’s 11.59pm. The big hand is looming precariously closer towards the number 12 and it’s time you faced the facts – you need to pull an all-nighter. Again. You told yourself last week that you wouldn’t let this happen but here you are, staring at the screen, willing ‘Document 1’ to fill up with never-before-seen brilliance which will dazzle your tutors come the 10am tute (brilliance is optimistic – you’d settle for a few good points). Life as an Oxford student is hard. But we make it work, it’s all about adjustment. And adjustment is something I know about, what with having a two year old son to contend with whilst I try to decipher Shakespeare. 

If you’d told me a few years ago that by the time I was twenty I’d regularly be spending my time wiping excrement off another human being, I would have been enormously offended, and probably questioned your twisted sense of humour. You see, being single and having a child wasn’t in the life plan – let alone having a child at the tender age of eighteen. When I was twelve I envisioned myself being relatively child-free until around thirty, when suddenly I would ‘settle down’, get married to Hugh Grant’s younger brother, and pop out a set of twins named Tom and Jerry. But I’ve realised two vital things in the eight years in between. Firstly, that Tom and Jerry were never going to be good name choices, whatever the circumstances. Naming your children after a fictional duo of an unlucky cat and a devious mouse just isn’t a good move for the playground. Secondly, and perhaps more importantly, that life doesn’t care about the plans you have for it. But I’ve adjusted, and I’m loving the adjustment, despite the copious amount of nappy changes. 

Having a child is alien to most students – many of my friends were petrified even to go near Bailey when he was a baby, in case (a) he started crying (a given) or (b) they got asked to hold him (also a given). But what I’ve learnt from being both an Oxford student and a toddler’s mum, is how there are a few common tactics that can help you to survive both.

1) Be a bit ridiculous

The determination to read four thick volumes in a week, despite knowing it’s a feat humanly impossible is not what I’d call conventional behaviour. But you do it anyway, and somehow manage it, or just about. Nor is the ability to juggle a heavy workload with several extracurricular activities and a role in the JCR, and still squeeze in time to be mildly sociable, a straightforward task. But so many of us do it. Take a look around Oxford and see the range of quirky, eccentric people we have here, I might go so far to say that to be a bit ‘odd’ is a product of the Oxford condition.

I first realised the extent of Bailey’s effect on my personality after I had spent the entire day pushing a teddy bear around Oxford. In a pushchair. You see, Bailey didn’t want to be taken for a ride in the Maclaren himself, but he did want to help Mummy ‘drive’ Teddy around the shops purely for the stuffed toy’s comfort. The unfortunate result of this request was that Bailey became wedged in between myself and the stroller, hiding him completely from view. To passing onlookers it looked like I had cracked, that the workload was simply too much, and I had resorted to pushing a spotty red stroller around the town centre with a teddy bear strapped into the harness.

This, coupled with the fact that I (like students everywhere) put off laundry until it’s absolutely necessary and so was wearing the flattering ensemble of odd socks, striped jeans, and a fluorescent pink T-shirt, made me realise I’d entered the realm of the ridiculous. Moreover, I’d become a crazy old lady who watches pigeons (Bailey’s favourite pastime) by the age of twenty. I hadn’t expected to be here for a good forty years yet. 

 2) Get competitive

We’ve made it. We’re in one of the finest institutions for learning in the world. Congrats for beating the competition in the fierce, academic survival of the fittest. But don’t get complacent. Although we’re here we still experience rivalry from a range of different sources, whether it’s in contests between Oxford and Cambridge, between different colleges, or within our own subjects. A decent amount of tension, and often very blatant competition, is always bubbling under the surface. 

When I entered into Parent World I didn’t fully understand the concept of playground politics, a term which can fairly be applied to most if not all conversations between doting parents. Parent World is a dangerous zone of conflict, and should be entered into with the utmost precaution. My ignorance of this world’s very existence was soon remedied after a few of Bailey’s swimming lessons. Bailey loves his swimming lessons. I use the term ‘swimming’ very loosely here: he’s not quite got the whole coordinated leg and arm thing going on, but he does flail about in the water like a pro. Swimming was the first opportunity I got to encounter other mums in their natural environment, and I realised just how real competitive parenting is in day-to-day life. ‘My Noah’s so good at French’ or ‘Jenny’s starting to do 4 year old puzzles and she’s only two’ are frequent conversational topics in the swimming pool changing rooms. The first time I was treated to an account of Noah’s aptitude for French, I laughed out loud, thinking that Noah’s mum had just cracked some hilarious joke. It wasn’t a joke. No, one and a half year old Noah, who I had yet to hear speak any decipherable English, was developing a mysterious ability for French. I soon learnt to nod politely and exclaim how wonderful it is that X’s son/daughter has developed Y talent. Needless to say, Noah’s mum and I have never truly recovered from the tension. 

3) Learn to love deals

Whether it’s the reduced section at Tesco (a treasure hoard for slightly out of date yet delectable food at low, low prices), or discount tickets to Thursdays at Bridge, every student with a hefty overdraft knows and appreciates the value of deals. We have loyalty cards, student discounts, ‘buy four, get two free!’ vouchers – constant companions whenever we hit the shops or fancy a late night dominos. And nowhere does this love for discounted merchandise show itself in a more obvious form than at the Freshers’ Fair, the dream realised for the dedicated saver. Free pens, free bags, free T-shirts and pizza are all only a sign up away, the only hindrance being the weekly emails you’ll then have to unsubscribe to one by one for the rest of the year. We feel obliged to pick up free things at this event, even if we don’t need or want them, with my five fridge magnets advertising ‘the best in Oxford recruitment’ being a case in point. 

Like the student, the parent is on a constant quest for anything discounted. I circle the supermarket like a hawk, eyeing up every aisle on the off chance that a crazy bargain will reveal itself. My hands are constantly ready to make a grab before the next shopper can swoop in first, whether it’s for bulk packs of shower gel or eighteen individual chicken fillets. Having a child is a massive financial wound – it costs £200,000 on average to raise a child to twenty one – and this knowledge alone has made me almost fanatical in my bargain hunting.

4) Remember: it’s hard work, but worth it

Studying at Oxford is mentally and physically exhausting. Like you didn’t already know that. The academic side alone can be at times overwhelming and leave us, after a particularly grievous deadline, feeling like a shrivelled and dried up raisin. But studying in the city of dreaming spires is an incredible experience: the people we meet, the engagement with our subject, and the exposure to unique events (aka. Johnny Depp) is something to be cherished. We have odd traditions, like dressing up in a cape and kinky black ribbon upon entering the University, and more recently, braving a dark, stormy night until 6am to watch the Morris dancers flaunt their folky stuff (does anyone actually know why we celebrate May Day, anyway?). This really is one of the best, if not the best, time of our lives. 

But then so is being a parent. Never before could I get away with watching Toy Story 3 at least once a month, or relive the beauty of The Very Hungry Caterpillar without generating a weird reputation. I get to make cushion fortresses in the living room, visit farms and feed the ducks, and test my football skills with someone of vaguely the same level. Watching Bails grow up gives me a sense of achievement unrivalled by anything I’ve ever experienced before, and growing up with him is part of the excitement. I may refer to myself in the third person as ‘Mummy’ accidentally with my friends, and have an overly competitive mind-set when I enter the supermarket, but these are the side effects of being a parent which I’ve come to accept. Life really doesn’t listen to the life plan – it hurls trials and obstructions at us when it thinks we aren’t looking, but for me, it’s adjusting to these trials which has made life really worth living.