Practice English Reading Exercises for B2 – Musical Journeys & Creative Hobbies 3

Exercises:   123456

Reading 1

You are going to read an article about four people describing the stage fright they experienced before a music recital.

For questions 1-10, choose from the people (A-D). The people may be chosen more than once.

Which person

1   was taken aback by how suddenly their nervousness struck?

2   believes their ability to play automatically is what saved their performance?

3   was forced to pause and mentally reset after a flawed beginning?

4   lost their self-belief after witnessing another participant’s exceptional skill?

5   wishes they had opted for a less challenging musical arrangement?

6   regained their focus thanks to a non-verbal gesture from someone they knew?

7   feared that perspiration would cause them to physically lose grip on their instrument?

8   was relieved to flawlessly perform a segment they had been dreading?

9   admits they contemplated secretly leaving the building to avoid playing?

10   acknowledges that they had been too arrogant about their abilities leading up to the event?

Facing the Music: Overcoming Stage Fright

A Leo

I’ve been playing the piano since I was seven, so you’d assume I’d be used to performing by now. However, nothing could have prepared me for the sheer terror that washed over me at the annual community recital. As I sat backstage, my palms were sweating so profusely I was convinced my fingers would slip right off the keys. I seriously considered sneaking out the back door, but my legs felt like lead. When my name was called, my mind went completely blank. I couldn’t even remember the first chord of my sonata. It was a horrifying sensation. Thankfully, the countless hours of rigorous practice paid off. The moment my hands touched the keyboard, muscle memory took over, and my fingers simply knew what to do. I wouldn’t say I enjoyed the performance, but getting through it without a disaster was a massive relief. Next time, I just need to figure out how to keep my nerves in check beforehand.

B Mia

What triggered my panic wasn’t the size of the audience, but the girl who performed right before me. She played a flawless, incredibly complex piece on the cello, and the crowd absolutely erupted. Standing in the wings with my violin, I suddenly felt entirely inadequate. My heart started pounding, and I became entirely fixated on a tricky bowing technique in the middle section of my concerto. I was absolutely certain I was going to mess it up. As I walked onto the stage, the glare of the spotlights was blinding. I was on the verge of tears until I spotted my music teacher sitting in the third row. He gave me a reassuring nod, which grounded me almost instantly. It reminded me that he believed in my capability, even if I didn’t at that precise moment. I pushed through the piece, and surprisingly, nailed the section I had been dreading the most.

C Julian

The strange thing about my experience was that I had been completely calm all week. I had chosen a demanding operatic aria for the local summer showcase, feeling overly confident during rehearsals. I was chatting and laughing with the other singers right up until the moment the stage manager signalled it was my turn. Then, out of nowhere, it hit me like a ton of bricks. My throat constricted, and a wave of nausea swept over me. I distinctly remember thinking, why on earth didn’t I pick a simpler, more upbeat song? I felt furious with myself for trying to show off. Taking a deep breath felt impossible, which is disastrous for a vocalist. I somehow managed to force myself onto the stage, but the first few notes were incredibly shaky. I eventually found my rhythm, but those few seconds of paralyzing doubt right before stepping into the spotlight are something I never want to relive.

D Sophie

Playing a wind instrument when you’re terrified is a unique kind of nightmare. As I waited for my cue at the winter arts festival, my mouth went completely dry. For a flautist, that’s pretty much the worst-case scenario. On top of that, my hands were trembling so violently I could barely assemble my flute. I had spent months perfecting a delicate, slow melody, which relies entirely on steady breath control. When I finally walked out, my initial attempt to play produced nothing but a pathetic, airy squeak. The silence in the auditorium was deafening. I had to lower my instrument, close my eyes, and take three deliberate, deep breaths to reset myself. It felt like an eternity, though it was probably only a few seconds. When I raised the flute again, my technique finally kicked in. I was deeply embarrassed by the false start, but proud that I didn’t just break down and run away.

Reading 2

You are going to read an article about four hobbyists sharing the dirty but deeply satisfying process of learning how to throw clay on a potter’s wheel.

For questions 1-10, choose from the people/sections (A-D). The people/sections may be chosen more than once.

Which person/section

1   initially held overly optimistic beliefs about how quickly they would improve?

2   was surprised by the sheer physical exertion required to manipulate the material?

3   discovered that the continuous, rhythmic actions helped alleviate their everyday stress?

4   spotted remnants of the material in locations completely separate from the studio?

5   values the craft as a tangible escape from a screen-dominated profession?

6   experienced intense frustration when their work repeatedly collapsed under pressure?

7   unintentionally neglected a peer due to being utterly absorbed in the process?

8   realised their opinion of their own work transformed significantly after the final stage?

9   mentions that getting to grips with an essential, initial technique was incredibly tough?

10   has learned to celebrate the charming, irregular qualities of their completed objects?

Spinning Through the Mud: The Joy of the Potter’s Wheel

A Tom

I originally signed up for a group pottery class to find a healthy way to unwind. The continuous motion of the wheel and the tactile sensation of wet earth slipping through my fingers turned out to be incredibly therapeutic, effectively washing away my daily anxieties. However, it wasn’t an easy ride. I spent my entire first month just trying to get the lump of clay to sit perfectly in the middle of the spinning wheel. That foundational step is notoriously tricky, and until you nail it, making anything is impossible. What nobody warns you about, though, is the sheer scale of the mess. It must be the dirtiest hobby you could possibly choose! You expect your hands and apron to get dirty, but I was constantly discovering dried grey splatters on my car steering wheel and even in my hair days later. Despite looking like I’d wrestled in mud, coming to terms with the chaos is all part of the charm.

B Sarah

When I booked my introductory course, I was utterly convinced I’d be churning out elegant, matching coffee cups by the second week. That delusion was quickly shattered. Working on the wheel requires a remarkably delicate touch, and whenever I applied slightly too much pressure, my towering cylinders would tragically slump into unrecognizable blobs. I would let out a groan of despair as yet another piece was ruined. It was intensely frustrating to see my hard work collapse in a matter of seconds. I eventually had to accept that mastering this craft is a marathon, not a sprint, and that patience was absolutely essential. If I hadn’t changed my mindset, I would have definitely quit out of sheer annoyance. I stopped focusing on the end product and started paying attention to how the material responded to my movements. Once I let go of my desperate need to produce flawless items immediately, the whole experience became far more enjoyable.

C Mark

As a software developer, I spend eight to ten hours a day staring at lines of code on a glowing monitor. Everything I do professionally is invisible and virtual, so dealing with literal earth was a revelation. I desperately needed a hobby that existed entirely in the physical realm, which is why taking up ceramics appealed to me. A colleague and I enrolled together, envisioning it as a fun, social evening where we could chat and catch up. Surprisingly, once the wheel started spinning, I became entirely deaf to my surroundings. I completely tuned my friend out, absolutely mesmerised by the way the clay shifted and stretched under my palms. He must have thought I was being incredibly rude! There is something deeply grounding about relying solely on your hands rather than a keyboard. While the studio is always covered in a thick layer of dust, that gritty reality is exactly what makes it the perfect antidote to my sterile working life.

D Jenny

People often romanticise pottery, imagining it as a gentle, effortless art form. In reality, it is a seriously demanding workout! I was genuinely astonished by how much core stability and arm strength it takes to force a stubborn, dense block of clay into submission. After my first few sessions, my shoulders were aching as if I’d spent hours lifting weights at the gym. If someone had warned me how exhausting it was, I might not have enrolled! My early attempts yielded some rather lopsided, asymmetrical vases. Initially, I was disappointed by their uneven rims and quirky shapes. However, once they had been fired in the kiln and coated in a vibrant, glossy finish, my perspective completely shifted. The magic of the glazing process brought them to life, and I realised that those very flaws were what gave them character. Now, I actively embrace the wonkiness; it’s a wonderful reminder of the intense human effort that went into crafting them.

Exercises:   123456