When you go to Blogger from abroad, instead of the page loading up in the language you originally set your blog up in, it automatically loads up in the language of the country you're in.
I'm in Greece.
It's taken me four goes to get to this page, I nearly deleted my entire blog by accident, and I can't work out for the life of me how to add links.
Be impressed.
Sunday, 26 August 2007
Conversation overheard at Gatwick airport
Blonde girl with pink suitcase number one: "I don't believe in depression, me."
Blonde girl with pink suitcase number two: "Nah, and there's that post-natal thing as well. I mean, it should be a good thing, having a baby."
I think perhaps neither of them have ever had a mental health problem...
Blonde girl with pink suitcase number two: "Nah, and there's that post-natal thing as well. I mean, it should be a good thing, having a baby."
I think perhaps neither of them have ever had a mental health problem...
Wednesday, 22 August 2007
The seven let-downs of the world?
It's a familiar feeling for most tourists: excitement about your trip, the anticipation of the wonder you are going to feel when faced with the Pyramids or the Eiffel Tower, a mounting sense of adventure at the prospect of escaping from the humdrum routines of getting up, driving to work, sitting at a desk, driving home, watching the telly, going to bed then getting up the next morning to repeat the process, and the sense that in a foreign country, far away from home, you'll also be estranged from your worries.
So with all these expectations, it's hardly surprising that even when standing at the foot of the French 324-metre triumph of engineering in Europe's most beautiful capital city, or drinking cappuccino in St Mark's square, disappointment sets in. You're still the same person as you were back home, with the same problems, stresses and worries, but with aching shoulders and sore feet.
But it's not really Paris or Venice at fault; it's unrealistic expectations that are to blame for your dissatisfaction.
Having said that, I can understand visitors' complaints about Stonehenge's unflattering location between two motorways, but what I can't get my head round is the visitor who complained that the Diana, Princess of Wales Memorial Fountain was "wet and pointless". I mean, just what exactly did she expect?
Source: The Guardian
So with all these expectations, it's hardly surprising that even when standing at the foot of the French 324-metre triumph of engineering in Europe's most beautiful capital city, or drinking cappuccino in St Mark's square, disappointment sets in. You're still the same person as you were back home, with the same problems, stresses and worries, but with aching shoulders and sore feet.
But it's not really Paris or Venice at fault; it's unrealistic expectations that are to blame for your dissatisfaction.
Having said that, I can understand visitors' complaints about Stonehenge's unflattering location between two motorways, but what I can't get my head round is the visitor who complained that the Diana, Princess of Wales Memorial Fountain was "wet and pointless". I mean, just what exactly did she expect?
Source: The Guardian
Monday, 20 August 2007
Note to readers
Due to an unforeseen set of rather unfortunate circumstances, I may not update my blog for a while. But then again, I might, and certainly will do in the next couple of weeks, so do keep coming back to check.
Ta-ra for now. And in the wise words of Jerry Springer, take care of yourselves, and each other...
Ta-ra for now. And in the wise words of Jerry Springer, take care of yourselves, and each other...
Thursday, 16 August 2007
Stress clouds students' attention to detail
No set of exam results would be complete without an accompaniment of complaints from examiners about students' poor standards of grammar and spelling. But as Donald MacLeod points out, A-level students have been making mistakes for over half a century. A report from 1952 criticises candidates' "abuse of punctuation" and apparent "illiteracy".
What examiners apparently fail to take into account, however, is the enormous amount of pressure that students are under when in an exam situation, which can easily lead to a misplaced apostrophe, a "there" instead of a "their" or even the odd sentence or two of complete gobble de guk. I'm a first-hand witness to this problem.
By the end of the first three days of university finals, I had sat through 18 hours of exams (3-hour exams in both morning and afternoon for 3 consecutive days). Halfway through the afternoon of day 3 I gritted my teeth, embarked on my 18th exam answer of the week, and found that I was having serious trouble thinking in complete sentences. I've not seen the exam scripts since, but for a couple of weeks after that atrocious Wednesday afternoon, excerpts of my exam essay would appear, uninvited and unwelcome, in my mind, and I would cringe with embarrassment.
Although it probably isn't very pleasing to be faced with a pile of exam papers filled with basic errors of language, it should be remembered that during an exam situation, students are under intensive levels of stress, inevitably clouding their usual attention to accuracy.
What examiners apparently fail to take into account, however, is the enormous amount of pressure that students are under when in an exam situation, which can easily lead to a misplaced apostrophe, a "there" instead of a "their" or even the odd sentence or two of complete gobble de guk. I'm a first-hand witness to this problem.
By the end of the first three days of university finals, I had sat through 18 hours of exams (3-hour exams in both morning and afternoon for 3 consecutive days). Halfway through the afternoon of day 3 I gritted my teeth, embarked on my 18th exam answer of the week, and found that I was having serious trouble thinking in complete sentences. I've not seen the exam scripts since, but for a couple of weeks after that atrocious Wednesday afternoon, excerpts of my exam essay would appear, uninvited and unwelcome, in my mind, and I would cringe with embarrassment.
Although it probably isn't very pleasing to be faced with a pile of exam papers filled with basic errors of language, it should be remembered that during an exam situation, students are under intensive levels of stress, inevitably clouding their usual attention to accuracy.
Tuesday, 14 August 2007
Looking for: professional female 25-30, with GSOH and DIB (dog in bag)
Bad news for single owners of Pooches, Sweetiepies and Tiddleses: the more you spoil your pet, the less attractive you appear to potential partners of the human kind.
The results of a survey of attitudes towards pet ownership reveal that turn-offs include men with pet spiders, women with yappy dogs in a handbag, and anyone with more than two cats.
Above: Paris Hilton with beloved dog Tinkerbell
Suggestions for romantic bliss: sell the dog, get the cat put down or buy a low-maintenance pet such as a goldfish.
Source:
http://www.guardian.co.uk/science/2007/aug/14/relationships.animalbehaviour
See also: http://www.thesun.co.uk/article/0,,11000-2007360596,00.html
The results of a survey of attitudes towards pet ownership reveal that turn-offs include men with pet spiders, women with yappy dogs in a handbag, and anyone with more than two cats.
Above: Paris Hilton with beloved dog TinkerbellSource:
http://www.guardian.co.uk/science/2007/aug/14/relationships.animalbehaviour
See also: http://www.thesun.co.uk/article/0,,11000-2007360596,00.html
First prize a box of Quality Street. Second prize breast implants.
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Sunday, 12 August 2007
Titanic error
If you're going to pinch video clips from someone else's film to back up your own story, make sure you choose one a bit less famous than Titanic.
If only the Russian TV channel RTR had heeded that advice before claiming that the footage of "Russian submersibles on the seabed of the North Pole" were genuine. It was a 13 year old boy from Finland who found the images strangely familiar, and revealed that they were in fact identical to sequences from James Cameron's movie about the 1912 shipwreck.
I'm sure nobody would have noticed if they'd nicked pictures from a lesser-known maritime disaster film, such as Poseidon or Deep Rising, though they would have had to remember to airbrush out the giant monster tentacles, which could give the game away:
If only the Russian TV channel RTR had heeded that advice before claiming that the footage of "Russian submersibles on the seabed of the North Pole" were genuine. It was a 13 year old boy from Finland who found the images strangely familiar, and revealed that they were in fact identical to sequences from James Cameron's movie about the 1912 shipwreck.
I'm sure nobody would have noticed if they'd nicked pictures from a lesser-known maritime disaster film, such as Poseidon or Deep Rising, though they would have had to remember to airbrush out the giant monster tentacles, which could give the game away:
Source:
Saturday, 11 August 2007
Learning the hard way
Last year, I lived in Paris for 11 months. By the end of that time I had acquired and polished many different skills. My spoken French improved considerably (I know five different words for "joint" as well as an impressive array of swear-words); I dealt with a wealth of French bureaucracy, studied at university and found employment in a variety of different sectors (including waitressing in a restaurant, serving chizburrgurrs to grumpy Frogs and eating frogs' legs on my lunch break); I found my own place to live, made French friends and navigated confidently around the capital. The thing that I perfected with the greatest success, however, was none of these CV-worthy skills, but was the art of staring expressionlessly into the middle distance whilst on public transport.
I don't know what it is about the underground networks of big cities that reduces their citizens to unsmiling statues who avoid looking at you whenever possible but, like the street entertainers you find above the ground, occasionally surprise you with a blink of an eye or a sudden sneeze. The same is true of London. It seems to be an unwritten rule that you must not acknowledge the presence of others.
Wonderfully inventive and useful though underground public transport is, the residents of a city must get pretty fed up with having to suffer smelly, crowded, noisy trains every day just to get to work and back, so it's not really surprising people aren't at their most communicative when travelling through a city. Things only get worse in the summer months when the hot weather and the tourists arrive, and you're forced to commute with hundreds of other smelly beings, with your nose in someone's armpit. And all this whilst trying desperately not to make eye contact.
Cross-channel cultural differences become apparent, though, when you do inadvertantly look somebody in the eye and acknowledge their presence with a small smile. Whenever I've done this on the tube, I've either been met with a bemused look, a returned smile from another non-Londoner or someone else whose guard has momentarily been forgotten, but in most cases, no response at all.
Being a young woman in Paris, however, a meeting of the eyes or a twitch of the lips, when directed at a member of the male half of the species, is frequently mistaken as a kind of mating call. More than once in my year in Paris, I found myself warding off invitations to "come to my 'ouse tonight" and firmly removing wandering French hands from my knee as a result of nothing more than a polite smile or a glance that lasted a second or two too long.
One time, my landlord was having some building work done on the exterior of my apartment, and for a few days I would wake up to find two or three men clattering and banging around outside the window. It seemed rude to ignore them, so in true English style, I offered them a cup of tea. They looked slightly surprised, but accepted, so I went into the kitchen to put the kettle on. When I returned, with two cups of strongly brewed Tetleys with milk and no sugar (I'd brought the teabags to Paris in bulk - the French don't really do tea a l'anglais) and some Garibaldi biscuits, I found them perched on the edge of my bed. It was my turn to be surprised, but I handed them the tea, which they tasted with suspicion, put down on the floor and proceded to chat me up. After an hour or so of various not-so-tempting offers, which included an invitation to go and stay in their house in Egypt, I managed to get rid of them. I poured the cold tea down the sink, locked the windows and put the kettle on. They did seem to like the Garibaldi biscuits though.
My experiences with Parisian men then and on the metro taught me a lot more about public transport etiquette, the European method of seduction and French taste in tea and biscuits than any grammar lessons or lectures at the Sorbonne ever did.
I don't know what it is about the underground networks of big cities that reduces their citizens to unsmiling statues who avoid looking at you whenever possible but, like the street entertainers you find above the ground, occasionally surprise you with a blink of an eye or a sudden sneeze. The same is true of London. It seems to be an unwritten rule that you must not acknowledge the presence of others.
Wonderfully inventive and useful though underground public transport is, the residents of a city must get pretty fed up with having to suffer smelly, crowded, noisy trains every day just to get to work and back, so it's not really surprising people aren't at their most communicative when travelling through a city. Things only get worse in the summer months when the hot weather and the tourists arrive, and you're forced to commute with hundreds of other smelly beings, with your nose in someone's armpit. And all this whilst trying desperately not to make eye contact.
Cross-channel cultural differences become apparent, though, when you do inadvertantly look somebody in the eye and acknowledge their presence with a small smile. Whenever I've done this on the tube, I've either been met with a bemused look, a returned smile from another non-Londoner or someone else whose guard has momentarily been forgotten, but in most cases, no response at all.
Being a young woman in Paris, however, a meeting of the eyes or a twitch of the lips, when directed at a member of the male half of the species, is frequently mistaken as a kind of mating call. More than once in my year in Paris, I found myself warding off invitations to "come to my 'ouse tonight" and firmly removing wandering French hands from my knee as a result of nothing more than a polite smile or a glance that lasted a second or two too long.
One time, my landlord was having some building work done on the exterior of my apartment, and for a few days I would wake up to find two or three men clattering and banging around outside the window. It seemed rude to ignore them, so in true English style, I offered them a cup of tea. They looked slightly surprised, but accepted, so I went into the kitchen to put the kettle on. When I returned, with two cups of strongly brewed Tetleys with milk and no sugar (I'd brought the teabags to Paris in bulk - the French don't really do tea a l'anglais) and some Garibaldi biscuits, I found them perched on the edge of my bed. It was my turn to be surprised, but I handed them the tea, which they tasted with suspicion, put down on the floor and proceded to chat me up. After an hour or so of various not-so-tempting offers, which included an invitation to go and stay in their house in Egypt, I managed to get rid of them. I poured the cold tea down the sink, locked the windows and put the kettle on. They did seem to like the Garibaldi biscuits though.
My experiences with Parisian men then and on the metro taught me a lot more about public transport etiquette, the European method of seduction and French taste in tea and biscuits than any grammar lessons or lectures at the Sorbonne ever did.
Tuesday, 7 August 2007
Debt drives students to extreme(ly silly) measures
Students today are leaving university in more debt than ever before. The majority of those who embarked on their undergraduate degree after 2006 face top-up fees, with students at many universities, including Oxford and Cambridge, forking out up to £3000 per year for tuition alone, not to mention accommodation and living costs.
Having just completed my degree and left university, my parents are several thousand pounds down and I owe a sum of roughly £14,000 to the Student Loans Company.
Although my loan will be paid back in instalments according to how much money I earn per year, I'm a little concerned about my overdraft, which is currently at an alarming level and isn't showing any signs of improvement, despite having two summer jobs which give me a regular income. The only way I can see to earn some money instead of scrimping and saving to break even, is moving back home.
But there may be an alternative.
The following suggestions are not necessarily recommended:
1. Posing for photo shoots.
I responded to a couple of posts on the Gumtree website advertising for models to pose for photographs, hoping that the opportunities would be as innocent as some of them seemed. I really should have caught on when I read "an open mind, discretion and nice feet are essential" but in naive desperation, I responded to the ad and got the following response:
"Thanks for your interest. I would like to photograph your beautiful, naked feet in the comfort of your own home. You will be required to dip your feet in chocolate, custard and other substances. You will of course be paid for your time and you can keep the chocolate/custard, as well as a copy of the photographs."
After some careful consideration, I decided not to bother.
2. Modelling.
Another trawl through the Gumtree website led me to some slightly less seedy-sounding opportunities for money-making. "Average female models required for classy photo shoots", read one ad. Whilst I'm no Kate Moss, I'm reasonably confident about my body and thought that with a layer or two of make-up, flattering lights and the right clothes I could pull off a bit of amateur modelling. I emailed the person who posted the ad to enquire what would be expected of me.
The reply was: leather catsuits.
Again, maybe not.
3. Participating in medical/psychology research.
A move away from thoughts of photo shoots and modelling brought me to a whole selection of ads asking for individuals to participate in research projects. The opportunities ranged from answering surveys on depression and anxiety to testing new TB vaccination drugs. Even though an incident like last year's Parexel disaster which left six men critically ill after taking part in a clinical trial is extremely unlikely ever to occur again, I wasn't comfortable with the idea of taking untested drugs, so I opted for a few others. So last week I went to have an ultrasound scan on my heart to confirm that it was suitable for participation in an experiment involving inhaling air containing varying ratios of carbon dioxide and oxygen. It turned out that my heart "doesn't regurgitate enough", whatever that means, so I can't take part in that one. But I got paid a bit of cash just for lying on my side and getting my left boob covered in lube ("ultrasound gel" I think is the correct term), so it was worth the half hour. And tomorrow I'm off to the Warneford (the psychiatric hospital in Oxford) to have an MRI scan whilst being fed chocolate through a tube.
4. Getting a proper job.
Yeah, yeah, I know.
Having just completed my degree and left university, my parents are several thousand pounds down and I owe a sum of roughly £14,000 to the Student Loans Company.
Although my loan will be paid back in instalments according to how much money I earn per year, I'm a little concerned about my overdraft, which is currently at an alarming level and isn't showing any signs of improvement, despite having two summer jobs which give me a regular income. The only way I can see to earn some money instead of scrimping and saving to break even, is moving back home.
But there may be an alternative.
The following suggestions are not necessarily recommended:
1. Posing for photo shoots.
I responded to a couple of posts on the Gumtree website advertising for models to pose for photographs, hoping that the opportunities would be as innocent as some of them seemed. I really should have caught on when I read "an open mind, discretion and nice feet are essential" but in naive desperation, I responded to the ad and got the following response:
"Thanks for your interest. I would like to photograph your beautiful, naked feet in the comfort of your own home. You will be required to dip your feet in chocolate, custard and other substances. You will of course be paid for your time and you can keep the chocolate/custard, as well as a copy of the photographs."
After some careful consideration, I decided not to bother.
2. Modelling.
Another trawl through the Gumtree website led me to some slightly less seedy-sounding opportunities for money-making. "Average female models required for classy photo shoots", read one ad. Whilst I'm no Kate Moss, I'm reasonably confident about my body and thought that with a layer or two of make-up, flattering lights and the right clothes I could pull off a bit of amateur modelling. I emailed the person who posted the ad to enquire what would be expected of me.
The reply was: leather catsuits.
Again, maybe not.
3. Participating in medical/psychology research.
A move away from thoughts of photo shoots and modelling brought me to a whole selection of ads asking for individuals to participate in research projects. The opportunities ranged from answering surveys on depression and anxiety to testing new TB vaccination drugs. Even though an incident like last year's Parexel disaster which left six men critically ill after taking part in a clinical trial is extremely unlikely ever to occur again, I wasn't comfortable with the idea of taking untested drugs, so I opted for a few others. So last week I went to have an ultrasound scan on my heart to confirm that it was suitable for participation in an experiment involving inhaling air containing varying ratios of carbon dioxide and oxygen. It turned out that my heart "doesn't regurgitate enough", whatever that means, so I can't take part in that one. But I got paid a bit of cash just for lying on my side and getting my left boob covered in lube ("ultrasound gel" I think is the correct term), so it was worth the half hour. And tomorrow I'm off to the Warneford (the psychiatric hospital in Oxford) to have an MRI scan whilst being fed chocolate through a tube.
4. Getting a proper job.
Yeah, yeah, I know.
One small click for man...
The Internet is a near-essential tool for anyone with an agenda to publicise. It facilites the signing of petitions, allows easy access to information and enables campaigners and advertisers to post their ideas, instantly, into the inboxes of thousands of users with nothing but a single click.
Now it seems that nothing but a single click is all that you need to do to pledge your support for a stronger government policy on climate change. You can even upload a video with your say. If you want to, you can write your own message, type in your address and your views will be sent directly to your local MP. Go to The Big Ask to find out more and join up.
In 2005, The Big Ask enabled 130,000 people to contact MPs using a fixed letter template, forcing the government to introduce a climate change bill. You can help do the same again and join the 172,000 people who have already signed, here.
I hope online "marches" don't become a substitute for real-life demonstrations, though. Contrary to what the sofa activists among us think, there's nothing quite like traipsing through the soggy streets of London with a placard/on stilts/wearing a hideous George W. Bush mask, accompanied by ten thousand other protestors like you, all marching and chanting in unison. It's noisy, crowded, tiring, chaotic, but the atmosphere is electric.
Now it seems that nothing but a single click is all that you need to do to pledge your support for a stronger government policy on climate change. You can even upload a video with your say. If you want to, you can write your own message, type in your address and your views will be sent directly to your local MP. Go to The Big Ask to find out more and join up.
In 2005, The Big Ask enabled 130,000 people to contact MPs using a fixed letter template, forcing the government to introduce a climate change bill. You can help do the same again and join the 172,000 people who have already signed, here.
I hope online "marches" don't become a substitute for real-life demonstrations, though. Contrary to what the sofa activists among us think, there's nothing quite like traipsing through the soggy streets of London with a placard/on stilts/wearing a hideous George W. Bush mask, accompanied by ten thousand other protestors like you, all marching and chanting in unison. It's noisy, crowded, tiring, chaotic, but the atmosphere is electric.
Friday, 3 August 2007
Great Crested Dweeb
What on earth is going on with the fashion for Russell Brand haircuts?
Besides the fact that the man is a total prat, he looks like he's opted for a home haircut with no mirror after several glasses of wine, having had an unfortunate run-in with a bramble bush or three. As a consequence he bears an uncanny resemblance to the great crested grebe :
Besides the fact that the man is a total prat, he looks like he's opted for a home haircut with no mirror after several glasses of wine, having had an unfortunate run-in with a bramble bush or three. As a consequence he bears an uncanny resemblance to the great crested grebe :
A bit harsh on the bird, perhaps.
This hairstyle is usually accompanied by punk/indie-style attire, comprising baggy, colourful tops, lots of eyeliner, Converse All-Star basketball boots and skinny jeans, which would look a lot better if the waistline was worn on the decent side of the arsecheeks. A centimetre or so of pants sticking out the top of your trousers is acceptable, providing they're not the ones that you've had since you were fifteen that you found at the back of your underwear drawer because your hair isn't the only thing you haven't washed for weeks, but some people go that one inch too far. Do you not understand? I don't want to see your bum.
History has shown us that fashion and good taste don't always go hand in hand, but the overgrown, lost-my-hairbrush-and-can't-afford-a-new-one, great crested grebe, arse-to-the-air look is just too silly for words.
Thursday, 2 August 2007
Not a rant
All my posts so far seem rather negative, particularly since they all contain the tag 'rant'. Also, 'rant' appears alone on the side bar by virtue of being the only label occurring more than twice on my entire blog.
I don't mean to sound so bitter about things.
Still, I only started posting things on here two days ago. Perhaps either I or the rest of the world will be looking up a bit by next week.
This post will have happy labels.
I don't mean to sound so bitter about things.
Still, I only started posting things on here two days ago. Perhaps either I or the rest of the world will be looking up a bit by next week.
This post will have happy labels.
For Christ's Sake...
Until recently, if you wanted to become a member of Exeter University's Christian Union you had to self-define as Christian. The group is now taking the Guild (the Student Union) to court after it was decided by an independent body that non-Christians could become members.
Having read several newspaper articles about the matter, and found no reasonable argument as to why only those of the Christian faith should be allowed membership, I can only conclude that the Christian Union is behaving in an absurd and unjustifiable way.
Aside from the fact that the ECU (which, incidentally, has been forced to change its name to the Evangelical Christian Union) is explicitly breaking the rules and regulations of the Guild -
"it shall be an offence for any society ... to discriminate in any way against an individual or group of individuals based on their gender, ethnic origin, disabilities, sexuality, beliefs (including political and religious beliefs), physical appearance, or other personal attributes" -
if the ECU's principle of excluding those with alternative or non-defined viewpoints is applied to all societies, does this mean that Student Unions should exclude non-gay, lesbian, bisexual and transgender people from their LGBT societies? What about people who decide they don't want to attach a label or definition to their preferences? What about individuals unsure about their religion or sexuality, who are perhaps hoping to find reassurance, comfort and clarification by associating with a group of people who have supposedly similar motivations? Should the Lib Dem Society deny anyone without Party membership access to meetings, thus eliminating any possibility of debate or varied discussion? Should the French Society grant membership only to those in possession of a carte d'identité?
For me (despite being an Atheist), the essence of religion and of Christianity in particular, is charity to all, regardless of faith, gender, ethnic origin etc. For this reason and because there are so many different branches and sets of beliefs within the Christian faith itself, it seems anti-religious, not to mention fruitless, to try to separate Christians from non-Christians. Things just aren't as black and white as that.
Wars motivated by religion have been fought for centuries. However, in today's climate, where technology, warfare and the media are all far more sophisticated and therefore more destructive than they have ever been before, it is imperative that instead of engaging in constant battles against one another, different religions, ethnic groups and nationalities try to co-operate with one another so that we can all live in a safe, peaceful world. And that also applies to societies and groups on the smallest scale, like student societies.
Aside from all that, the Exeter ECU probably didn't need to be so cautious as to specify being Christian as an entry requirement. If you weren't Christian, you probably wouldn't want to go anyway.
Sources:
http://www.blogger.com/www.guardian.co.uk
http://education.guardian.co.uk/higher/news/story/0,,2136297,00.html
Having read several newspaper articles about the matter, and found no reasonable argument as to why only those of the Christian faith should be allowed membership, I can only conclude that the Christian Union is behaving in an absurd and unjustifiable way.
Aside from the fact that the ECU (which, incidentally, has been forced to change its name to the Evangelical Christian Union) is explicitly breaking the rules and regulations of the Guild -
"it shall be an offence for any society ... to discriminate in any way against an individual or group of individuals based on their gender, ethnic origin, disabilities, sexuality, beliefs (including political and religious beliefs), physical appearance, or other personal attributes" -
if the ECU's principle of excluding those with alternative or non-defined viewpoints is applied to all societies, does this mean that Student Unions should exclude non-gay, lesbian, bisexual and transgender people from their LGBT societies? What about people who decide they don't want to attach a label or definition to their preferences? What about individuals unsure about their religion or sexuality, who are perhaps hoping to find reassurance, comfort and clarification by associating with a group of people who have supposedly similar motivations? Should the Lib Dem Society deny anyone without Party membership access to meetings, thus eliminating any possibility of debate or varied discussion? Should the French Society grant membership only to those in possession of a carte d'identité?
For me (despite being an Atheist), the essence of religion and of Christianity in particular, is charity to all, regardless of faith, gender, ethnic origin etc. For this reason and because there are so many different branches and sets of beliefs within the Christian faith itself, it seems anti-religious, not to mention fruitless, to try to separate Christians from non-Christians. Things just aren't as black and white as that.
Wars motivated by religion have been fought for centuries. However, in today's climate, where technology, warfare and the media are all far more sophisticated and therefore more destructive than they have ever been before, it is imperative that instead of engaging in constant battles against one another, different religions, ethnic groups and nationalities try to co-operate with one another so that we can all live in a safe, peaceful world. And that also applies to societies and groups on the smallest scale, like student societies.
Aside from all that, the Exeter ECU probably didn't need to be so cautious as to specify being Christian as an entry requirement. If you weren't Christian, you probably wouldn't want to go anyway.
Sources:
http://www.blogger.com/www.guardian.co.uk
http://education.guardian.co.uk/higher/news/story/0,,2136297,00.html
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