C1 Reading Practice Test 1

Nothing in nine years of lessons had prepared Zeynep for the particular quality of the silence outside Room Twelve. It was not the silence of a library, which is cooperative and faintly kind; it was the silence of people waiting to be judged. Along the corridor, a dozen other candidates sat clutching instrument cases, each one pretending, with varying degrees of success, to be absorbed in a phone, a score or a point on the wall. Zeynep had been awake since five. Her cello, resting between her knees, seemed to her unusually heavy, and the piece she had played faultlessly for months now dissolved whenever she tried to recall its opening. What she feared was not so much failure as the humiliation of failing visibly, in front of a panel who would have heard better performances that very morning. A cleaner was working her way down the corridor with a mop, moving with the unhurried efficiency of someone who has long ceased to be impressed by nerves. When she reached Zeynep, she paused, rested her chin on the end of the handle and studied the cello case with frank interest. "Haydn or Elgar?" she asked. "Haydn," said Zeynep, startled. "The C major." "Ah. The first movement. Everyone plays the first movement." The woman smiled slightly. "Do you know what they listen for? Not the notes. Hardly anyone misses the notes by this stage. They listen for whether you sound as though you would rather be somewhere else." Zeynep, who at that moment would have given almost anything to be somewhere else, said nothing. "It is not a bad thing to be frightened," the woman continued. "Only when the fear takes over the music is it a problem. So, try this. Instead of thinking of them" – she nodded towards the closed door – "think of a single person at the very back who has come in out of the rain, and who will sit there for exactly as long as the piece lasts. Play to that person." Before Zeynep could ask who she was to give advice, a door opened and a name that was not hers was called. The cleaner returned to her mop. When her turn came, Zeynep walked into the room with the cello and a curious sense of lightness. She did not look at the three figures behind the table. She looked at the empty chair in the back corner, and the first note, when it came, sounded like something she had always been able to do. Only afterwards, while collecting her coat, did she notice the framed photograph beside the notice board: an orchestra, decades old, with a young woman in the second row of the violins. The face was younger and the hair darker, but the half-smile was unmistakable. Zeynep looked at it for a long moment, then went to look for the cleaner. She had gone home.

On a summer night, anyone who has travelled from the middle of a large city to its outskirts will have noticed a distinct change in the air. In the centre, the pavements seem to radiate stored warmth long after sunset; a few kilometres out, among fields or trees, the temperature drops noticeably. This difference, which can reach several degrees, is known as the urban heat island effect, and it is becoming a major concern for planners as both cities and summer heatwaves grow. The causes are numerous, but the most significant is the nature of the materials with which cities are built. Asphalt, concrete and dark roofing absorb a great deal of sunlight during the day and release it slowly after dark, so that urban areas have little opportunity to cool down. Compounding this is the scarcity of vegetation. Plants and soil do not merely provide shade; they also cool the air through evaporation, an effect comparable to the way sweat works on human skin. Remove them, and the cooling disappears with them. Architecture adds further complications. Tall buildings packed closely together form what are often called urban canyons, which trap heat and obstruct the breezes that might otherwise carry it away. Meanwhile, the activities of the city itself, including traffic, industry and the air-conditioning units that expel hot air into the street, generate additional warmth. The result is a vicious circle: the hotter the city becomes, the more energy people use to stay cool, and the more heat their machines produce. Fortunately, the remedies are better understood than the problem once was. Planting trees along streets is among the most effective, since a mature tree can lower the temperature of its surroundings substantially. Pale or reflective roofs, sometimes called "cool roofs", return a larger share of sunlight to the sky, while green roofs and walls add insulation and shade. Some cities have gone further. Medellín, in Colombia, planted green corridors along roads and waterways, and officials there have reported that average temperatures in the treated areas fell by roughly two degrees. It would be a mistake, though, to regard such measures as purely technical. Poorer neighbourhoods typically contain fewer trees and more pavement, which means that the burden of excessive heat is rarely shared equally. Not until planners address this imbalance will cooler cities become genuinely healthier cities for all of their residents.

Subject: Volunteers' briefing: Sea and Stories Weekend, 9 to 11 May Dear volunteers, First of all, thank you. When we advertised for forty helpers, we were privately hoping for thirty, so the fact that sixty-three of you applied has been a pleasant surprise, and a slightly alarming one for our spreadsheet. I have therefore tried to make sure that everyone has a role that suits them. Please read the following carefully, since I shall not repeat myself on the day, however much I may be tempted. Where and when. All volunteers should report to the old customs building on the harbour by 7:30 on Friday morning, not a minute later. Coffee and simit will be provided, though I cannot promise that they will still be there at 7:45. Your name badges and a schedule will be waiting for you at the entrance. Your roles. If your confirmation letter says "Stage", you will be helping the technicians to set up chairs and cables and guiding authors to the right tent. Those marked "Children" will assist in the storytelling corner, which, as experience has shown, is both the most rewarding and the noisiest place at the festival. Anybody assigned to "Information" is, in effect, the face of the whole event; I would be grateful if you could learn where the toilets are before you learn anything else, since that is overwhelmingly what people ask. What to wear. Everyone will receive a blue festival shirt. Comfortable shoes are strongly advised, bearing in mind that you will be on your feet for most of the day. Although the forecast is promising, the wind off the sea has a habit of changing its mind, so a light jacket is sensible. Please note. Volunteers who have not told us of food allergies are asked to do so by this Friday. Should you find it impossible to attend for any reason, I would appreciate as much notice as you can give, since a gap in the rota is far easier to fill on Tuesday than on Friday morning. Finally, a word on the spirit of the weekend. Visitors will remember very little about the programme itself. What they will recall is whether someone smiled at them when they were lost. That, I believe, is where you come in. With warm thanks and considerable optimism, Defne Arslan Volunteer Coordinator