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Goddington Theater
The Goddington Theater Ticket Office is open from 10 a.m. until 4 p.m. Monday to Friday, and for half an hour in the evening before the advertised start time of each performance.
Telephone bookings
Your tickets are held at the Ticket Office for you to collect or, if you prefer, a charge of 35 cents is made to post them to you if you pay by cash. We’ll post them to you for free if you book by credit card. No extra charge.
Postal bookings
You can write to the Ticket Office requesting tickets, or to confirm a reservation.
Where to find Goddington Theater
Goddington Theater can be found within the Goddington University site, next to the car park, which is available for public use after 5 p.m. on weekdays and all day on weekends.
If travelling by car
Coming from the south end of Princes Street, you will see the library on your right. Next to the library is Goddington University. Take the next turning on the right, then first right into the car park gate straight ahead of you, stopping as close as possible to the orange machine. Put a $ 1 coin in the machine and the gate will rise.
If travelling by train/bus/ taxi
You will need to allow 30 minutes to walk from the train station. Taxis are available from the front of the station.
The University is a 5 to 10 minutes’ walk from the main bus station.
When ordering a taxi from the theater, ask to be picked up at the bottom of North Street. Taxis will not come into the car park because of the entrance charge.
You can book your tickets ________.

A．at 9 a.m. on Monday	B．at 5 p.m. on Wednesday
C．at lunch time on weekends	D．at noon on workdays

Where is the Goddington Theater?

A．To the south of Princes Street.

B．On the right of the Ticket Office.

C．In the Goddington university.

D．At the bottom of North Street.

What can we learn from the passage?

A．You can find a free parking place in the university.

B．You have to collect your tickets if you pay by credit card.

C．Tickets paid by cash will be posted to you at no extra charge.

D．Taxi drivers are unwilling to pick up customers inside the car park.

Children have their own rules in playing games. They seldom need a judge and rarely trouble to keep scores. They don’t care much about who wins or loses, and it doesn’t seem to worry them if the game is not finished. Yet, they like games that depend a lot on luck, so that their personal abilities cannot be directly compared. They also enjoy games that move in stages, in which each stage, the choosing of leaders, the picking-up of sides, or the determining of which side shall start, is almost a game in itself.
Grown-ups can hardly find children’s games exciting, and they often feel puzzled at why their kids play such simple games again and again. However, it is found that a child plays games for very important reasons. He can be a good player without having to think whether he is a popular person, and he can find himself being a useful partner to someone of whom he is ordinarily afraid. He becomes a leader when it comes to his turn. He can be confident, too, in particular games, that it is his place to give orders, to pretend to be dead, to throw a ball actually at someone, or to kiss someone he caught.
It appears to us that when children play a game they imagine a situation under their control. Everyone knows the rules, and more important, everyone plays according to the rules. Those rules may be childish, but they make sure that every child has a chance to win.
What is true about children when they play games?

A．They can stop playing any time they like.

B．They can test their personal abilities.

C．They want to pick a better team.

D．They don’t need rules.

To become a leader in a game the child has to ______.

A．play well	B．be popular among his playmates
C．be confident in himself	D．wait for his turn

What do we know about grown-ups?

A．They are not interested in games.

B．They find children’s games too easy.

C．They don’t need a reason to play games.

D．They don’t understand children’s games.

The writer believes that _______.

A．children should make better rules for their games

B．children should invite grow-ups to play with them

C．children’s games can do them a lot of good

D．children play games without reasons

My Way to Success

From the day I signed up for theNaumburg Competition, everything changed. I had made a decision to start again, to save my life, and that meant a 360-degreeturnaround.
I kept on practicing. An enormous amount of work had to be done in two months. I went from not practicing at all to thirteen hours a day.
I spent two weeks just playing scales. If I thought I sounded bad before, now I sounded worse than awful.
At the time I lived on 72nd Street, close to West End Avenue. I had an apartment with a window the size of a shoebox. I didn't do mylaundry. I left my apartment only to walk toJuilliard─and not onBroadwaylike everyone else.I walked up Amsterdam Avenue because I didn't want to see anybody, didn't want to run into anybody, didn't want anyone to ask what I was doing.
I stopped going to classes and became a hermit.I even talked Miss DeLay into giving my lesson at night.
My eating habits were awful. I lived on fried sausages, a pint of peanut butter/chocolate ice cream, and a gallon of Coca-Cola every day. That's all I ate for eight weeks.
I was nuts.I was completely obsessed with getting back into shape, with doing well in this competition.If I could, people would know I was still on earth. Not to count me out; to stop asking, “Whatever happened to Nadja?”
The last week before the Naumburg auditions, I couldn't touch the violin. I had worked and worked and worked and worked and then I just couldn't work anymore.
I certainly could have used it. I wasn't as prepared as I should have been. But I simply had to say,“Nadja, you've dedicated yourself to this thing. Ready or not, do your best.”
Fifty violinists from around the worldauditionedfor the competition on May 25, 26, and 27, 1981. Those that made it past thepreliminarieswould go on to the semifinals. Those that passed that stage would go to the finals. In years past, one violinist was chosen as winner and two received second and third place.
On May 26, the day of my audition, I went to the Merkin Concert Hall at 67th Street and Broadway. I waited, played for twenty minutes, and went home. I couldn't tell whether the preliminary judges were impressed or not. I'd find out the next evening.
Maybe subconsciously I was trying to keep busy; that night, when I fried the sausages, I accidentally set my apartment on fire. I grabbed my cat and my violin, and ran out the door. The fire was put out, but everything in my place was wrecked.
Fortunately, the phone was okay and on the evening of May 27, I had the news from Lucy Rowan Mann of Naumburg. Thirteen of us had made it.
Talk about mixed emotions. I was thrilled to be among the thirteen; a group that included established violinists, some of whom had already made records. But it also meant I had to play the next day in the semifinals of the competition.
Everyone entering the competition had been given two lists of concertos. One was a list of standardrepertorypieces. The other list was twentieth-century repertory. For our big competition piece, we were to choose from each list and play a movement from one in the semifinals, and a movement from the other in the finals─if we made it that far.
From the standard repertory list, I chose the Tchaikovsky Concerto. I had been playing the Tchaik for three years, so it was a good piece for me.
From the twentieth-century list, I chose the Prokofiev G minor Concerto. I had never played it onstage before.
My goal had been just passing the auditions, but now my thought pattern began to change. If I wanted asliverof a chance of advancing again, my brain said, “Play your strong piece first.”
Logically, I should play the Tchaikovsky in the semifinals just to make it to the next stage. Who cared if that left me with a piece I probably wouldn't play as well in the finals of the competition? It'd be a miracle to get that far.
There wouldn't be more than seven violinists chosen for the final round, and if I were in the top seven of an international group, that was plenty good enough.
The semifinals were held on May 28 in Merkin Concert Hall. You were to play for thirty minutes: your big piece first, then the judges would ask to hear another.
There was a panel of eight judges. They had a piece of paper with my choices of the Tchaikovsky and the Prokofiev in front of them. “Which would you like to play?” they asked.
I said meekly, “Prokofiev.”
My brain and all the logic in the world had said, “Play your strong piece.” My heart said, “Go for it all. Play your weak piece now, save Tchaikovsky for the finals.”
Maybe I don't listen to logic so easily after all.
My good friend, the pianist Sandra Rivers, had been chosen as accompanistfor the competition. She knew I was nervous. There had been a very short time to prepare; I was sure there'd be memory slips, that I'd blank out in the middle and the judges would throw me out. My hands were like ice.
The first eight measures of the Prokofiev don't have accompaniment. The violin starts the piece alone. So I started playing.
I got through the first movement and Sandra said later my face was as white as snow.She said I was so tense, I was beyond shaking. Just a solid brick.
It was the best I'd ever played it. No memory slips at all. Technically, musically, it was there.
I finished it thinking, “Have I sold my soul for this? Is the devil going to visit me at midnight? How come it went so well?”
I didn't know why, but often I do my best under the worst of circumstances. I don't know if it'sgutsor a determination not to disappoint people. Who knows what it is, but it came through for me, and I thank God for that.
As the first movement ended, the judges said, “Thank you.” Then they asked for the Carmen Fantasy.
I turned and asked Sandy for an A, to retune, and later she said the blood was just rushing back into my face.
I whispered, “Sandy, I made it. I did it.”
“Yeah,” she whispered back, kiddingly, “too bad you didn't screw up. Maybe next time.”
At that point I didn't care if I did make the finals because I had played the Prokofiev so well. I was so proud of myself for coming through.
I needed a shot in the arm; that afternoon I gotevicted. While I was at Merkin, mymopedhad blown up. For my landlord, that was the last straw.
What good news. I was completely broke and didn't have the next month's rent anyway. The landlord wanted me out that day. I said, “Please, can I have two days. I might get into the finals, can I please go through this first?”
I talked him into it, and got back to my place in time for the phone call. “Congratulations, Nadja,”“they said. “You have made the finals.”
I had achieved the ridiculously unlikely, and I had saved my best piece. Yet part of me was sorry. I wanted it to be over already. In the three days from the preliminariesto the semifinals, I lost eight pounds. I was so tired of the pressure.
There was a fellow who advanced to the finals with me, an old, good friend since Pre-College. Competition against friends is inevitable in music, but I never saw competition push a friendship out the window so quickly. By the day of the finals, I hated him and he hated me. Pressure was that intense.
The finals were held on May 29 at Carnegie Hall and open to the public. I was the fourth violinist of the morning, then there was a lunch break, and three more violinists in the afternoon.
I played my Tchaikovsky, Saint-Sa‘ns’s Havanaise, and Ravel's Tzigane for the judges: managers, famous violinists, teachers, and critics. I went on stage at five past eleven and finished at noon. Those fifty-five minutes seemed like three days.
I was so relieved when I finished playing; I was finished! It's impossible to say how happy I was to see the dressing room. I went out for lunch with my friends. It was like coming back from the grave. We laughed and joked and watched TV.
As I returned to Carnegie Hall to hear the other violinists, I realized I'd made a big mistake: they might ask for recalls. A recall is when they can't decide between two people and they want you to play again. It's been done; it's done all the time in competitions. No way was I in shape to go onstage and play again.
In the late afternoon, the competition was over. Everybody had finished playing. Quite luckily─no recalls.
The judges deliberated for an hour. The tension in the air was unbelievable. All the violinists were sitting with their little circle of friends. I had my few friends around me, but no one was saying much now.
Finally, the Naumburg Foundation president Robert Mann came on stage.
“It's always so difficult to choose ...” he began.
“Every year we hold this competition,” Robert Mann said. “And in the past, we've awarded three prizes. This year we've elected to only have one prize, the first prize.”
My heart sank. Nothing for me. Not even MissCongeniality.
“We have found,” Mann went on, “that second place usually brings great dismay to the artist because they feel like a loser. We don't want anyone here to feel like a loser. Every finalist will receive five hundred dollars except the winner, who will receive three thousand dollars.”
And then he repeated how difficult it was to choose, how well everyone had played ...dah, dah, dah.
I was looking down at the floor.
“The winner is ...”
And he said my name.
A friend next to me said, “Nadja, I think you won!”
I went numb. My friends pulled me up and pointed me toward the stage. It was a long walk because I had slipped into a seat in the back. Sitting up in front was my old friend. I would have to walk right past him and I was dreading it, but before I could, he got up and stopped me.
He threw his arms around me and I threw my arms around him. I kept telling him how sorry I was. I was holding him and started to cry, saying, “I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry.” I didn't want to lose, but I really didn't want him to lose either. And he was holding me and saying, “Don't be sorry. I'm so proud of you.” It was over, and we would be friends again.
I took my bow, then ran to Juilliard. Ten blocks uptown, one block west, to give Miss DeLay the news. She could be proud of me now, too.
Suddenly, everything was clear. Playing the violin is what I'd do with my life. Heaven handed me a prize: “You've been through a lot, kid. Here's an international competition.”
Everything had changed when I prepared for the Naumburg, and now everything changed again. I made my first recording. Between September 1981 and May 1982, I played a hundred concerts in America, made one trip to Europe, then two months of summer festivals. And people asked me back.
There was a great deal of anxiety playing in Europe for the first time. But I was able to rely on my self-confidence to pull me through.
Self-confidence onstage doesn't mean a lack of nerves backstage. The stakes had increased. This wasn't practice anymore, this was my life. I'd stare into a dressing-room mirror and say, “Nadja, people have bought tickets, hired baby-sitters, you've got to calm down; go out there and prove yourself.”
Every night I'd prove myself again. My life work had truly begun.
In a gesture to prepare for the competition, Nadja did all the following except _________.

A．preoccupying herself in practice

B．trying to carry out her deeds secretly

C．abandoning going to school for classes

D．consuming the best food to get enough energy

.How many violinists does the passage mention advanced to the finals?

A．Four.

B．Five.

C．Six.

D．Seven.

After Nadja finished playing at the finals, she went out for a while and when she came back to hear the other violinists she realized she had made a mistake because _________.

A．she forgot that there was going to be a recall

B．she didn’t get hold of the permission to leave

C．chances were that she had to replay and she was off guard

D．there was another play she had to take part in in the afternoon

Great Britain

“Great Britain” has several different names. Some people say “Britain”, or “the United Kingdom”, or just “UK”. There are four different countries in the United Kingdom: England, Scotland, Wales and Northern Ireland.
Everyone from Britain is British, but only people from England are English. People from Scotland are Scottish, people from Wales are Welsh, and people from Northern Ireland are Irish. Don't call a Scottish or Welsh person English. He won’t like it!
Altogether more than 56 million people live in Britain, many of them in big industrial cities like London, Liverpool and Manchester, but people are often surprised by how much of Britain is open country, with lovely hills and woods, quiet rivers, lakes and farmlands.
Everyone in Britain speaks English. But in some parts of Scotland and Wales people speak an older language as well. The Welsh are especially proud of their language, and you can see road signs in Welsh all over Wales.
Everyone speaks English, but they do not all speak it in the same way. A Scottish person has to listen carefully if he wants to understand a Londoner. And when a Welsh person speaks, everyone knows at once where he comes from!
Many people think that the weather is cold and wet in Britain all the year round. But it isn't! True, it sometimes rains and even snows for days and days, but every year there are weeks of beautiful sunny weather when the British put on theirbikinisand go out to sunbathe.
Britain is only a small country, but every part is different. Scotland is a land of mountains, lakes and romantic castles. The winters are cold, with plenty of snow, but the summers are often warm and sunny. Most farmers keep sheep, and there are many small factories which make fine sweaters from their wool. In some parts of Scotland, there are very few people. Deer live in the hills, and the rivers are full of fish. But Glasgow and Edinburgh are both large and busy, with all that is good (and bad) in modern cities.
Northern Ireland has its problems, but it has beauty too. In the warm, wet climate, the grass grows a brilliant green, and much of the land is farming country. Belfast is a large industrial city with many fine buildings and a big port from which ships come and go to Scotland and England. But Belfast has had many difficult years, and it is not the busy place it once was.
In the north of England there are many old industrial towns. Now, a great number of factories have closed and thousands of people have no work. Some have moved to the new towns, built in the 1960s and 1970s, where the industries are more modern. Outside the towns, much of this part of England is beautiful countryside, with green hills, lakes and sandy beaches. Fishing is an important industry in the North East, and every night (except Sunday) the fishing boats go out to sea.
The centre of England (the “Midlands”) is also an important industrial area, especially near the huge cities of Coventry and Birmingham, the centre of the car industry. But everywhere, even in the heart of a modern city, there are buildings from an older Britain— cathedrals, castles, and houses built hundreds of years ago.
Wales is a special place, a country of high mountains and pretty valleys. But Wales has plenty of industry too, with many factories and coal mines. The people of Wales are very musical. Every year they have a festival of Welsh music and poetry called an “Eisteddfod”.
The west of England is rich farming country. It produces milk, cream, butter, cheese and apples, which go to make cider, a popular drink. In the villages, country people often grow their own fruit, vegetables and flowers.
Some areas of Britain are very crowded. Around Manchester, in northwest England, and Glasgow, in Scotland, are large city areas of houses and factories. The southeast of England, too, has many towns and cities, including London, the giant capital. But quite near London there are still some quiet villages and peaceful farms.
Britain is an island, of course, and you are never far from the sea. Some of the coast, especially in the west, is wild and rocky, with small, sandy beaches, and romantic old harbours. Other parts are industrial. The east coast of Scotland, for example, is busy with oilrigsand fishing boats. The most popular beaches are near the many holiday towns on the south coast, where the weather is usually warmer. It is here that Londoners come to relax.
London London has been a capital city for nearly a thousand years, and many of its ancient buildings still stand. The most famous of these are the Tower of London, Westminster Abbey and St. Paul's Cathedral, but most visitors also want to see the Houses of Parliament, Buckingham Palace (the Queen's London home) and the many magnificent museums.
Once, London was a small Roman town on the north bank of the Thames, but slowly it grew into one of the world's major cities with more than nine million people.Fewer people live in the centre now, but the suburbs are still growing.
Places now in the heart of London, like Westminster, once stood in the middle of green fields. Many small villages, like Hampstead, Chelsea and Mayfair, became part of London, but they still keep some of their old atmosphere. Different areas of London seem like different cities. The West End is a rich man's world of shops, offices and theatres. The East End is the old working people's district, where there are many small flats and houses, some old, some new.
London is always changing. New buildings go up and old ones come down. Poorer areas become fashionable and people with more money move into them.
A hundred years ago, the river was crowded with ships, leaving for Java and Japan, New Zealand and New York, but now the port is nearly empty. People travel by air, and London's main airport, Heathrow, is one of the busiest in the world.
Like all big cities, London has streets andconcretebuildings, but it also has many big parks, full of trees, flowers and grass. Sit on the grass (you're allowed to!) in the middle of Hyde Park or Kensington Gardens, and you will think that you are in the country miles away.
Many people live outside the centre of London in the suburbs, and they travel to work by train, bus or underground. Every day, nearly half a million office workers travel into the “City”, the business centre of London, a small area full of banks and offices. Some people come from far out of London, even from the coast, and spend up to four hours travelling every day.
Working hours are from 9 a.m. to 5 p.m. From 8 until 10 every morning, and 4.30 to 6.30 every evening, the trains are crowded with people, and after the morning “rush hour” the shoppers come.
By day the whole of London is busy. At night, the City is quiet and empty, but the West End stays alive, because this is where Londoners come to enjoy themselves. There are two opera houses here, several concert halls and many theatres, as well as cinemas, and the pubs, restaurants and night clubs are busy half the night.
Many people think that London is all grey, but in fact red is London's favorite colour. The buses are red, the letter boxes are red, and the mail vans are all bright, bright red.London isat its bestwhen people are celebrating.Then the flags, the soldiers' uniforms, the cheering crowds and the carriages and horses all sparkle in the sunshine—if it's not raining, of course!
EdinburghEdinburgh is Scotland's capital, and one of the most beautiful cities in Britain. The heart of Edinburgh is the thousand-year-old castle, where the kings of Scotland lived for centuries.
From Edinburgh castle you can see for miles, north over the beautiful old streets, an arm of the sea that pushes inland. Far away are the mountains of central Scotland, often covered with snow.
Edinburgh has a busy cultural life. Every year, in September the International Festival takes place. Musicians, actors and singers come from all over the world and thousands of visitors fill the city. In the evening, the opera house, the theatres and the concert halls are full. In cafes and pubs, small groups sing, act and read poetry.
The castle is at its best in festival time. Every night there is a magnificent military “Tattoo”. Highland soldiers wearing “kilts”play the bagpipes, and march to the music.
Tartans, the patterns of the kilts, have an interesting history. Since the fifteenth century, each Scottish family has worn its own tartan as a kind of badge. It was a useful way of recognizing people, especially in times of war. Many tartans date only from the nineteenth century, but some of the old patterns still exist.“Dress” tartans, worn on special occasions, have light, bright colours.”Hunting” tartans are usually green, blue or brown.
OxfordWhat is so special about Oxford and Cambridge, the two oldest universities in England? Why do so many students want to study there?
Both of these university towns are very beautiful. They have some of the finest architecture in Britain. Some of their colleges and libraries are three, four and even five hundred years old, and are full of valuable books and precious paintings. Both towns have many lovely gardens, where the students can read and relax in the summer months.
Oxford is the older university of the two. The first of its colleges was founded in 1249. The university now has thirty-four colleges and about twelve thousand students, many of them from other countries. There were no women students at Oxford until 1878, when the first women's college, Lady Margaret Hall, opened. Now, women study at most colleges.
Oxford is, of course, famous for its first class education as well as its beautiful buildings. Some of the most intelligent men and women in the country live and work here. Oxford gives them what they need: a quiet atmosphere, friendly colleagues, and the four-hundred-year-old Bodleian library, which has about five million books.
It is not easy to get a place at Oxford University to study for a degree. But outside the university there are many smaller private colleges which offer less difficult courses and where it is easy to enroll. Most students in these private schools take business, secretarial or English language courses.
Providing that you want to visit a most beautiful city and see “kilts” worn by men, you are supposed to go to________.

A．Edinburgh

B．London

C．Manchester

D．Birmingham

Oxford is one of the oldest universities in Britain, which is special because________.

A．it has a big and modern library

B．it has a quiet and friendly atmosphere

C．tremendous of the most intelligent people in the country live and work there

D．all of the above

In the 19th century, there used to be a model of how to be a good person. There are all these torrents of passion flowing through you. Your job, as captain of your soul, is to erect dams to keep these passions in check. Your job is to just say no to laziness, lust, greed, drug use and the other sins.
　　These days that model is out of fashion. You usually can’t change your behavior by simply resolving to do something. Knowing what to do is not the same as being able to do it. Your willpower is not like a dam that can block the torrent of self-indulgence. It's more like a muscle, which tires easily. Moreover, you're a social being. If everybody around you is overeating, you’ll probably do so, too.
　　The 19th-century character model was based on an understanding of free will. Today, we know that free will is bounded. People can change their lives, but ordering change is not simple because many things, even within ourselves, are beyond our direct control.
　　Much of our behavior, for example, is guided by unconscious habits. Researchers at Duke University calculated that more than 40 percent of the actions we take are governed by habit, not actual decisions. Researchers have also come to understand the structure of habits—cue, routine, reward.
　　You can change your own personal habits. If you leave running shorts on the floor at night, that'll be a cue to go running in the morning. Don’t try to ignore your afternoon snack craving. Every time you feel the cue for a snack, insert another routine. Take a walk.
　　Their research thus implies a different character model, which is supposed to manipulate the neuralnetworks inside.
　　To be an effective person, under this model, you are supposed to coolly examine your own unconscious habits, and the habits of those under your care. You are supposed to devise strategies to alter the cues and routines. Every relationship becomes slightly manipulative, including your relationship with yourself. You're trying to arouse certain responses by implanting certain cues.
　　This is a bit disturbing, because the important habitual neural networks are not formed by mere routine, nor can they be reversed by clever cues. They are burned in by emotion and strengthened by strong yearnings, like the yearnings for admiration and righteousness.
　　If you think you can change your life in a clever way, the way an advertiser can get you to buy an air freshener, you’re probably wrong. As the Victorians understood, if you want to change your life, don’t just look for a clever cue. Commit to some larger global belief.
Which of the following is the first-to-none element in the 19th-century character model?

A．Action.

B．Capacity.

C．Resolution.

D．Enthusiasm.

The 19th-century model supposedly does not work on the grounds that ________

A．one’s wished should be pondered before acting.

B．the comparison of free will to a dam is groundless.

C．it has been proved impractical and cannot hold true.

D．there were many other factors beyond one's control.

The research at Duke University indicated that ________

A．One’s behavior is tough to change.

B．Habit has an unidentified structure.

C．Habit plays a vital role in one's behavior.

D．Both habit and will power are of significance.

According to the new character model, personal behavior could be altered through

A．techniques to break old routines.

B．techniques to provide different physical cues.

C．cues to change all the former unconscious habits.

D．cues to manipulate the habitual neural responses.

We can learn from the passage that the new character model ________

A．can generate changes in one's life like what advertisers do.

B．highlights the neural and psychological aspects of habit change.

C．has been identified a new method of changing behavior perfectly.

D．has an advantage over others in dealing with emotional aspects of behavior.