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Reading Passage 1 · Bees on the rooftops

Twenty years ago, keeping bees in a city centre would have struck most people as eccentric. Today, hives can be found on the roofs of hotels, office blocks and even opera houses in cities such as London, Paris and New York.

Part of the appeal is practical. Cities are often warmer than the surrounding countryside, so bees can start foraging earlier in the spring. Parks, gardens and tree-lined streets offer a wide variety of flowers, and urban bees are exposed to fewer of the agricultural pesticides used on large farms. Many urban beekeepers report that their colonies produce more honey than those kept in rural areas.

The trend has also been driven by public concern. When studies began to report severe losses of honeybee colonies in the mid-2000s, many people wanted to do something to help, and setting up a hive seemed an obvious response. Companies were quick to see the benefits: a hive on the roof makes a good story for an annual report.

However, some ecologists now warn that the movement may be going too far. Honeybees are only one of hundreds of bee species, most of which live alone rather than in colonies, and all of them compete for the same flowers. In districts where hives have multiplied, there may simply not be enough nectar to go round. Researchers in Paris found that wild bees were seen less often in areas with many hives.

For those who want to help pollinators, the experts' advice is often surprisingly simple: rather than installing a hive, plant flowers. A window box full of lavender may do more good than a new colony of bees.

Reading Passage 1 · Bees on the rooftops

Twenty years ago, keeping bees in a city centre would have struck most people as eccentric. Today, hives can be found on the roofs of hotels, office blocks and even opera houses in cities such as London, Paris and New York.

Part of the appeal is practical. Cities are often warmer than the surrounding countryside, so bees can start foraging earlier in the spring. Parks, gardens and tree-lined streets offer a wide variety of flowers, and urban bees are exposed to fewer of the agricultural pesticides used on large farms. Many urban beekeepers report that their colonies produce more honey than those kept in rural areas.

The trend has also been driven by public concern. When studies began to report severe losses of honeybee colonies in the mid-2000s, many people wanted to do something to help, and setting up a hive seemed an obvious response. Companies were quick to see the benefits: a hive on the roof makes a good story for an annual report.

However, some ecologists now warn that the movement may be going too far. Honeybees are only one of hundreds of bee species, most of which live alone rather than in colonies, and all of them compete for the same flowers. In districts where hives have multiplied, there may simply not be enough nectar to go round. Researchers in Paris found that wild bees were seen less often in areas with many hives.

For those who want to help pollinators, the experts' advice is often surprisingly simple: rather than installing a hive, plant flowers. A window box full of lavender may do more good than a new colony of bees.

Reading Passage 1 · Bees on the rooftops

Twenty years ago, keeping bees in a city centre would have struck most people as eccentric. Today, hives can be found on the roofs of hotels, office blocks and even opera houses in cities such as London, Paris and New York.

Part of the appeal is practical. Cities are often warmer than the surrounding countryside, so bees can start foraging earlier in the spring. Parks, gardens and tree-lined streets offer a wide variety of flowers, and urban bees are exposed to fewer of the agricultural pesticides used on large farms. Many urban beekeepers report that their colonies produce more honey than those kept in rural areas.

The trend has also been driven by public concern. When studies began to report severe losses of honeybee colonies in the mid-2000s, many people wanted to do something to help, and setting up a hive seemed an obvious response. Companies were quick to see the benefits: a hive on the roof makes a good story for an annual report.

However, some ecologists now warn that the movement may be going too far. Honeybees are only one of hundreds of bee species, most of which live alone rather than in colonies, and all of them compete for the same flowers. In districts where hives have multiplied, there may simply not be enough nectar to go round. Researchers in Paris found that wild bees were seen less often in areas with many hives.

For those who want to help pollinators, the experts' advice is often surprisingly simple: rather than installing a hive, plant flowers. A window box full of lavender may do more good than a new colony of bees.

Reading Passage 1 · Bees on the rooftops

Twenty years ago, keeping bees in a city centre would have struck most people as eccentric. Today, hives can be found on the roofs of hotels, office blocks and even opera houses in cities such as London, Paris and New York.

Part of the appeal is practical. Cities are often warmer than the surrounding countryside, so bees can start foraging earlier in the spring. Parks, gardens and tree-lined streets offer a wide variety of flowers, and urban bees are exposed to fewer of the agricultural pesticides used on large farms. Many urban beekeepers report that their colonies produce more honey than those kept in rural areas.

The trend has also been driven by public concern. When studies began to report severe losses of honeybee colonies in the mid-2000s, many people wanted to do something to help, and setting up a hive seemed an obvious response. Companies were quick to see the benefits: a hive on the roof makes a good story for an annual report.

However, some ecologists now warn that the movement may be going too far. Honeybees are only one of hundreds of bee species, most of which live alone rather than in colonies, and all of them compete for the same flowers. In districts where hives have multiplied, there may simply not be enough nectar to go round. Researchers in Paris found that wild bees were seen less often in areas with many hives.

For those who want to help pollinators, the experts' advice is often surprisingly simple: rather than installing a hive, plant flowers. A window box full of lavender may do more good than a new colony of bees.

Reading Passage 1 · Bees on the rooftops

Twenty years ago, keeping bees in a city centre would have struck most people as eccentric. Today, hives can be found on the roofs of hotels, office blocks and even opera houses in cities such as London, Paris and New York.

Part of the appeal is practical. Cities are often warmer than the surrounding countryside, so bees can start foraging earlier in the spring. Parks, gardens and tree-lined streets offer a wide variety of flowers, and urban bees are exposed to fewer of the agricultural pesticides used on large farms. Many urban beekeepers report that their colonies produce more honey than those kept in rural areas.

The trend has also been driven by public concern. When studies began to report severe losses of honeybee colonies in the mid-2000s, many people wanted to do something to help, and setting up a hive seemed an obvious response. Companies were quick to see the benefits: a hive on the roof makes a good story for an annual report.

However, some ecologists now warn that the movement may be going too far. Honeybees are only one of hundreds of bee species, most of which live alone rather than in colonies, and all of them compete for the same flowers. In districts where hives have multiplied, there may simply not be enough nectar to go round. Researchers in Paris found that wild bees were seen less often in areas with many hives.

For those who want to help pollinators, the experts' advice is often surprisingly simple: rather than installing a hive, plant flowers. A window box full of lavender may do more good than a new colony of bees.

Reading Passage 1 · Bees on the rooftops

Twenty years ago, keeping bees in a city centre would have struck most people as eccentric. Today, hives can be found on the roofs of hotels, office blocks and even opera houses in cities such as London, Paris and New York.

Part of the appeal is practical. Cities are often warmer than the surrounding countryside, so bees can start foraging earlier in the spring. Parks, gardens and tree-lined streets offer a wide variety of flowers, and urban bees are exposed to fewer of the agricultural pesticides used on large farms. Many urban beekeepers report that their colonies produce more honey than those kept in rural areas.

The trend has also been driven by public concern. When studies began to report severe losses of honeybee colonies in the mid-2000s, many people wanted to do something to help, and setting up a hive seemed an obvious response. Companies were quick to see the benefits: a hive on the roof makes a good story for an annual report.

However, some ecologists now warn that the movement may be going too far. Honeybees are only one of hundreds of bee species, most of which live alone rather than in colonies, and all of them compete for the same flowers. In districts where hives have multiplied, there may simply not be enough nectar to go round. Researchers in Paris found that wild bees were seen less often in areas with many hives.

For those who want to help pollinators, the experts' advice is often surprisingly simple: rather than installing a hive, plant flowers. A window box full of lavender may do more good than a new colony of bees.

Reading Passage 1 · Bees on the rooftops

Twenty years ago, keeping bees in a city centre would have struck most people as eccentric. Today, hives can be found on the roofs of hotels, office blocks and even opera houses in cities such as London, Paris and New York.

Part of the appeal is practical. Cities are often warmer than the surrounding countryside, so bees can start foraging earlier in the spring. Parks, gardens and tree-lined streets offer a wide variety of flowers, and urban bees are exposed to fewer of the agricultural pesticides used on large farms. Many urban beekeepers report that their colonies produce more honey than those kept in rural areas.

The trend has also been driven by public concern. When studies began to report severe losses of honeybee colonies in the mid-2000s, many people wanted to do something to help, and setting up a hive seemed an obvious response. Companies were quick to see the benefits: a hive on the roof makes a good story for an annual report.

However, some ecologists now warn that the movement may be going too far. Honeybees are only one of hundreds of bee species, most of which live alone rather than in colonies, and all of them compete for the same flowers. In districts where hives have multiplied, there may simply not be enough nectar to go round. Researchers in Paris found that wild bees were seen less often in areas with many hives.

For those who want to help pollinators, the experts' advice is often surprisingly simple: rather than installing a hive, plant flowers. A window box full of lavender may do more good than a new colony of bees.

Reading Passage 1 · Bees on the rooftops

Twenty years ago, keeping bees in a city centre would have struck most people as eccentric. Today, hives can be found on the roofs of hotels, office blocks and even opera houses in cities such as London, Paris and New York.

Part of the appeal is practical. Cities are often warmer than the surrounding countryside, so bees can start foraging earlier in the spring. Parks, gardens and tree-lined streets offer a wide variety of flowers, and urban bees are exposed to fewer of the agricultural pesticides used on large farms. Many urban beekeepers report that their colonies produce more honey than those kept in rural areas.

The trend has also been driven by public concern. When studies began to report severe losses of honeybee colonies in the mid-2000s, many people wanted to do something to help, and setting up a hive seemed an obvious response. Companies were quick to see the benefits: a hive on the roof makes a good story for an annual report.

However, some ecologists now warn that the movement may be going too far. Honeybees are only one of hundreds of bee species, most of which live alone rather than in colonies, and all of them compete for the same flowers. In districts where hives have multiplied, there may simply not be enough nectar to go round. Researchers in Paris found that wild bees were seen less often in areas with many hives.

For those who want to help pollinators, the experts' advice is often surprisingly simple: rather than installing a hive, plant flowers. A window box full of lavender may do more good than a new colony of bees.

Reading Passage 1 · Bees on the rooftops

Twenty years ago, keeping bees in a city centre would have struck most people as eccentric. Today, hives can be found on the roofs of hotels, office blocks and even opera houses in cities such as London, Paris and New York.

Part of the appeal is practical. Cities are often warmer than the surrounding countryside, so bees can start foraging earlier in the spring. Parks, gardens and tree-lined streets offer a wide variety of flowers, and urban bees are exposed to fewer of the agricultural pesticides used on large farms. Many urban beekeepers report that their colonies produce more honey than those kept in rural areas.

The trend has also been driven by public concern. When studies began to report severe losses of honeybee colonies in the mid-2000s, many people wanted to do something to help, and setting up a hive seemed an obvious response. Companies were quick to see the benefits: a hive on the roof makes a good story for an annual report.

However, some ecologists now warn that the movement may be going too far. Honeybees are only one of hundreds of bee species, most of which live alone rather than in colonies, and all of them compete for the same flowers. In districts where hives have multiplied, there may simply not be enough nectar to go round. Researchers in Paris found that wild bees were seen less often in areas with many hives.

For those who want to help pollinators, the experts' advice is often surprisingly simple: rather than installing a hive, plant flowers. A window box full of lavender may do more good than a new colony of bees.

Reading Passage 1 · Bees on the rooftops

Twenty years ago, keeping bees in a city centre would have struck most people as eccentric. Today, hives can be found on the roofs of hotels, office blocks and even opera houses in cities such as London, Paris and New York.

Part of the appeal is practical. Cities are often warmer than the surrounding countryside, so bees can start foraging earlier in the spring. Parks, gardens and tree-lined streets offer a wide variety of flowers, and urban bees are exposed to fewer of the agricultural pesticides used on large farms. Many urban beekeepers report that their colonies produce more honey than those kept in rural areas.

The trend has also been driven by public concern. When studies began to report severe losses of honeybee colonies in the mid-2000s, many people wanted to do something to help, and setting up a hive seemed an obvious response. Companies were quick to see the benefits: a hive on the roof makes a good story for an annual report.

However, some ecologists now warn that the movement may be going too far. Honeybees are only one of hundreds of bee species, most of which live alone rather than in colonies, and all of them compete for the same flowers. In districts where hives have multiplied, there may simply not be enough nectar to go round. Researchers in Paris found that wild bees were seen less often in areas with many hives.

For those who want to help pollinators, the experts' advice is often surprisingly simple: rather than installing a hive, plant flowers. A window box full of lavender may do more good than a new colony of bees.

Reading Passage 2 · The box that changed the world

A. In April 1956, a converted oil tanker called the Ideal X left Newark, New Jersey, for Houston, Texas, carrying 58 metal boxes on its deck. The voyage attracted little attention at the time, yet many historians now regard it as the beginning of modern globalisation. The man behind it, a trucking businessman named Malcolm McLean, had grown tired of watching his lorries wait for hours at the docks while their cargo was unloaded piece by piece.

B. Before the container, loading a ship was slow, labour-intensive work. Sacks, barrels and crates of every shape and size had to be lifted on board individually and fitted together like a puzzle. A ship could spend as long in port as it did at sea, and theft was so common that some dockworkers were said to take home part of their wages in goods.

C. McLean's idea was simple: instead of handling each item separately, pack goods into standard boxes that could be moved directly from lorry to ship to train without being opened. The difficulty lay in persuading everyone else to use the same box. For more than a decade, shipping lines built containers of different sizes, and a box that fitted one company's ships might not fit another's. It was only after international standards were agreed in the late 1960s that the system could spread worldwide.

D. The effects on port cities were dramatic. Container ships needed deep water, vast storage areas and space for cranes, which old docks in city centres could not provide. In London, the historic docks along the Thames closed one after another, while a small port at Felixstowe, on the east coast, grew into one of the busiest in the country. Tens of thousands of dockworkers lost their jobs, and whole neighbourhoods built around the docks went into decline.

E. For consumers, the benefits are easier to see. Because transporting goods by sea became so cheap, it now often makes economic sense to manufacture a product on one continent and sell it on another. Economists still debate how much of the growth in world trade since the 1960s can be credited to the container rather than to falling tariffs or better communications, but few doubt that it played a major part.

Reading Passage 2 · The box that changed the world

A. In April 1956, a converted oil tanker called the Ideal X left Newark, New Jersey, for Houston, Texas, carrying 58 metal boxes on its deck. The voyage attracted little attention at the time, yet many historians now regard it as the beginning of modern globalisation. The man behind it, a trucking businessman named Malcolm McLean, had grown tired of watching his lorries wait for hours at the docks while their cargo was unloaded piece by piece.

B. Before the container, loading a ship was slow, labour-intensive work. Sacks, barrels and crates of every shape and size had to be lifted on board individually and fitted together like a puzzle. A ship could spend as long in port as it did at sea, and theft was so common that some dockworkers were said to take home part of their wages in goods.

C. McLean's idea was simple: instead of handling each item separately, pack goods into standard boxes that could be moved directly from lorry to ship to train without being opened. The difficulty lay in persuading everyone else to use the same box. For more than a decade, shipping lines built containers of different sizes, and a box that fitted one company's ships might not fit another's. It was only after international standards were agreed in the late 1960s that the system could spread worldwide.

D. The effects on port cities were dramatic. Container ships needed deep water, vast storage areas and space for cranes, which old docks in city centres could not provide. In London, the historic docks along the Thames closed one after another, while a small port at Felixstowe, on the east coast, grew into one of the busiest in the country. Tens of thousands of dockworkers lost their jobs, and whole neighbourhoods built around the docks went into decline.

E. For consumers, the benefits are easier to see. Because transporting goods by sea became so cheap, it now often makes economic sense to manufacture a product on one continent and sell it on another. Economists still debate how much of the growth in world trade since the 1960s can be credited to the container rather than to falling tariffs or better communications, but few doubt that it played a major part.

Reading Passage 2 · The box that changed the world

A. In April 1956, a converted oil tanker called the Ideal X left Newark, New Jersey, for Houston, Texas, carrying 58 metal boxes on its deck. The voyage attracted little attention at the time, yet many historians now regard it as the beginning of modern globalisation. The man behind it, a trucking businessman named Malcolm McLean, had grown tired of watching his lorries wait for hours at the docks while their cargo was unloaded piece by piece.

B. Before the container, loading a ship was slow, labour-intensive work. Sacks, barrels and crates of every shape and size had to be lifted on board individually and fitted together like a puzzle. A ship could spend as long in port as it did at sea, and theft was so common that some dockworkers were said to take home part of their wages in goods.

C. McLean's idea was simple: instead of handling each item separately, pack goods into standard boxes that could be moved directly from lorry to ship to train without being opened. The difficulty lay in persuading everyone else to use the same box. For more than a decade, shipping lines built containers of different sizes, and a box that fitted one company's ships might not fit another's. It was only after international standards were agreed in the late 1960s that the system could spread worldwide.

D. The effects on port cities were dramatic. Container ships needed deep water, vast storage areas and space for cranes, which old docks in city centres could not provide. In London, the historic docks along the Thames closed one after another, while a small port at Felixstowe, on the east coast, grew into one of the busiest in the country. Tens of thousands of dockworkers lost their jobs, and whole neighbourhoods built around the docks went into decline.

E. For consumers, the benefits are easier to see. Because transporting goods by sea became so cheap, it now often makes economic sense to manufacture a product on one continent and sell it on another. Economists still debate how much of the growth in world trade since the 1960s can be credited to the container rather than to falling tariffs or better communications, but few doubt that it played a major part.

Reading Passage 2 · The box that changed the world

A. In April 1956, a converted oil tanker called the Ideal X left Newark, New Jersey, for Houston, Texas, carrying 58 metal boxes on its deck. The voyage attracted little attention at the time, yet many historians now regard it as the beginning of modern globalisation. The man behind it, a trucking businessman named Malcolm McLean, had grown tired of watching his lorries wait for hours at the docks while their cargo was unloaded piece by piece.

B. Before the container, loading a ship was slow, labour-intensive work. Sacks, barrels and crates of every shape and size had to be lifted on board individually and fitted together like a puzzle. A ship could spend as long in port as it did at sea, and theft was so common that some dockworkers were said to take home part of their wages in goods.

C. McLean's idea was simple: instead of handling each item separately, pack goods into standard boxes that could be moved directly from lorry to ship to train without being opened. The difficulty lay in persuading everyone else to use the same box. For more than a decade, shipping lines built containers of different sizes, and a box that fitted one company's ships might not fit another's. It was only after international standards were agreed in the late 1960s that the system could spread worldwide.

D. The effects on port cities were dramatic. Container ships needed deep water, vast storage areas and space for cranes, which old docks in city centres could not provide. In London, the historic docks along the Thames closed one after another, while a small port at Felixstowe, on the east coast, grew into one of the busiest in the country. Tens of thousands of dockworkers lost their jobs, and whole neighbourhoods built around the docks went into decline.

E. For consumers, the benefits are easier to see. Because transporting goods by sea became so cheap, it now often makes economic sense to manufacture a product on one continent and sell it on another. Economists still debate how much of the growth in world trade since the 1960s can be credited to the container rather than to falling tariffs or better communications, but few doubt that it played a major part.

Reading Passage 2 · The box that changed the world

A. In April 1956, a converted oil tanker called the Ideal X left Newark, New Jersey, for Houston, Texas, carrying 58 metal boxes on its deck. The voyage attracted little attention at the time, yet many historians now regard it as the beginning of modern globalisation. The man behind it, a trucking businessman named Malcolm McLean, had grown tired of watching his lorries wait for hours at the docks while their cargo was unloaded piece by piece.

B. Before the container, loading a ship was slow, labour-intensive work. Sacks, barrels and crates of every shape and size had to be lifted on board individually and fitted together like a puzzle. A ship could spend as long in port as it did at sea, and theft was so common that some dockworkers were said to take home part of their wages in goods.

C. McLean's idea was simple: instead of handling each item separately, pack goods into standard boxes that could be moved directly from lorry to ship to train without being opened. The difficulty lay in persuading everyone else to use the same box. For more than a decade, shipping lines built containers of different sizes, and a box that fitted one company's ships might not fit another's. It was only after international standards were agreed in the late 1960s that the system could spread worldwide.

D. The effects on port cities were dramatic. Container ships needed deep water, vast storage areas and space for cranes, which old docks in city centres could not provide. In London, the historic docks along the Thames closed one after another, while a small port at Felixstowe, on the east coast, grew into one of the busiest in the country. Tens of thousands of dockworkers lost their jobs, and whole neighbourhoods built around the docks went into decline.

E. For consumers, the benefits are easier to see. Because transporting goods by sea became so cheap, it now often makes economic sense to manufacture a product on one continent and sell it on another. Economists still debate how much of the growth in world trade since the 1960s can be credited to the container rather than to falling tariffs or better communications, but few doubt that it played a major part.

Reading Passage 2 · The box that changed the world

A. In April 1956, a converted oil tanker called the Ideal X left Newark, New Jersey, for Houston, Texas, carrying 58 metal boxes on its deck. The voyage attracted little attention at the time, yet many historians now regard it as the beginning of modern globalisation. The man behind it, a trucking businessman named Malcolm McLean, had grown tired of watching his lorries wait for hours at the docks while their cargo was unloaded piece by piece.

B. Before the container, loading a ship was slow, labour-intensive work. Sacks, barrels and crates of every shape and size had to be lifted on board individually and fitted together like a puzzle. A ship could spend as long in port as it did at sea, and theft was so common that some dockworkers were said to take home part of their wages in goods.

C. McLean's idea was simple: instead of handling each item separately, pack goods into standard boxes that could be moved directly from lorry to ship to train without being opened. The difficulty lay in persuading everyone else to use the same box. For more than a decade, shipping lines built containers of different sizes, and a box that fitted one company's ships might not fit another's. It was only after international standards were agreed in the late 1960s that the system could spread worldwide.

D. The effects on port cities were dramatic. Container ships needed deep water, vast storage areas and space for cranes, which old docks in city centres could not provide. In London, the historic docks along the Thames closed one after another, while a small port at Felixstowe, on the east coast, grew into one of the busiest in the country. Tens of thousands of dockworkers lost their jobs, and whole neighbourhoods built around the docks went into decline.

E. For consumers, the benefits are easier to see. Because transporting goods by sea became so cheap, it now often makes economic sense to manufacture a product on one continent and sell it on another. Economists still debate how much of the growth in world trade since the 1960s can be credited to the container rather than to falling tariffs or better communications, but few doubt that it played a major part.

Reading Passage 2 · The box that changed the world

A. In April 1956, a converted oil tanker called the Ideal X left Newark, New Jersey, for Houston, Texas, carrying 58 metal boxes on its deck. The voyage attracted little attention at the time, yet many historians now regard it as the beginning of modern globalisation. The man behind it, a trucking businessman named Malcolm McLean, had grown tired of watching his lorries wait for hours at the docks while their cargo was unloaded piece by piece.

B. Before the container, loading a ship was slow, labour-intensive work. Sacks, barrels and crates of every shape and size had to be lifted on board individually and fitted together like a puzzle. A ship could spend as long in port as it did at sea, and theft was so common that some dockworkers were said to take home part of their wages in goods.

C. McLean's idea was simple: instead of handling each item separately, pack goods into standard boxes that could be moved directly from lorry to ship to train without being opened. The difficulty lay in persuading everyone else to use the same box. For more than a decade, shipping lines built containers of different sizes, and a box that fitted one company's ships might not fit another's. It was only after international standards were agreed in the late 1960s that the system could spread worldwide.

D. The effects on port cities were dramatic. Container ships needed deep water, vast storage areas and space for cranes, which old docks in city centres could not provide. In London, the historic docks along the Thames closed one after another, while a small port at Felixstowe, on the east coast, grew into one of the busiest in the country. Tens of thousands of dockworkers lost their jobs, and whole neighbourhoods built around the docks went into decline.

E. For consumers, the benefits are easier to see. Because transporting goods by sea became so cheap, it now often makes economic sense to manufacture a product on one continent and sell it on another. Economists still debate how much of the growth in world trade since the 1960s can be credited to the container rather than to falling tariffs or better communications, but few doubt that it played a major part.

Reading Passage 2 · The box that changed the world

A. In April 1956, a converted oil tanker called the Ideal X left Newark, New Jersey, for Houston, Texas, carrying 58 metal boxes on its deck. The voyage attracted little attention at the time, yet many historians now regard it as the beginning of modern globalisation. The man behind it, a trucking businessman named Malcolm McLean, had grown tired of watching his lorries wait for hours at the docks while their cargo was unloaded piece by piece.

B. Before the container, loading a ship was slow, labour-intensive work. Sacks, barrels and crates of every shape and size had to be lifted on board individually and fitted together like a puzzle. A ship could spend as long in port as it did at sea, and theft was so common that some dockworkers were said to take home part of their wages in goods.

C. McLean's idea was simple: instead of handling each item separately, pack goods into standard boxes that could be moved directly from lorry to ship to train without being opened. The difficulty lay in persuading everyone else to use the same box. For more than a decade, shipping lines built containers of different sizes, and a box that fitted one company's ships might not fit another's. It was only after international standards were agreed in the late 1960s that the system could spread worldwide.

D. The effects on port cities were dramatic. Container ships needed deep water, vast storage areas and space for cranes, which old docks in city centres could not provide. In London, the historic docks along the Thames closed one after another, while a small port at Felixstowe, on the east coast, grew into one of the busiest in the country. Tens of thousands of dockworkers lost their jobs, and whole neighbourhoods built around the docks went into decline.

E. For consumers, the benefits are easier to see. Because transporting goods by sea became so cheap, it now often makes economic sense to manufacture a product on one continent and sell it on another. Economists still debate how much of the growth in world trade since the 1960s can be credited to the container rather than to falling tariffs or better communications, but few doubt that it played a major part.

Reading Passage 2 · The box that changed the world

A. In April 1956, a converted oil tanker called the Ideal X left Newark, New Jersey, for Houston, Texas, carrying 58 metal boxes on its deck. The voyage attracted little attention at the time, yet many historians now regard it as the beginning of modern globalisation. The man behind it, a trucking businessman named Malcolm McLean, had grown tired of watching his lorries wait for hours at the docks while their cargo was unloaded piece by piece.

B. Before the container, loading a ship was slow, labour-intensive work. Sacks, barrels and crates of every shape and size had to be lifted on board individually and fitted together like a puzzle. A ship could spend as long in port as it did at sea, and theft was so common that some dockworkers were said to take home part of their wages in goods.

C. McLean's idea was simple: instead of handling each item separately, pack goods into standard boxes that could be moved directly from lorry to ship to train without being opened. The difficulty lay in persuading everyone else to use the same box. For more than a decade, shipping lines built containers of different sizes, and a box that fitted one company's ships might not fit another's. It was only after international standards were agreed in the late 1960s that the system could spread worldwide.

D. The effects on port cities were dramatic. Container ships needed deep water, vast storage areas and space for cranes, which old docks in city centres could not provide. In London, the historic docks along the Thames closed one after another, while a small port at Felixstowe, on the east coast, grew into one of the busiest in the country. Tens of thousands of dockworkers lost their jobs, and whole neighbourhoods built around the docks went into decline.

E. For consumers, the benefits are easier to see. Because transporting goods by sea became so cheap, it now often makes economic sense to manufacture a product on one continent and sell it on another. Economists still debate how much of the growth in world trade since the 1960s can be credited to the container rather than to falling tariffs or better communications, but few doubt that it played a major part.

Reading Passage 3 · In praise of boredom

It has become almost impossible to be bored. A queue at the bakery, a delayed train, a dull moment in a meeting: each can now be filled in seconds by a glance at a phone. Most of us regard this as an obvious improvement. I am not so sure.

Boredom has a poor reputation, and not entirely without reason. Chronic boredom has been linked in some studies to overeating, gambling and depression, and few people would choose to spend an afternoon staring at a wall. But the occasional, low-level boredom of everyday life is a different matter. It is, I would argue, a signal rather than a malfunction: a sign that our current activity is not giving us what we need, and a push to look for something better.

Several psychologists have suggested that boredom may also make room for creativity. In one frequently cited experiment, participants who had first been given a tedious task, copying numbers from a telephone directory, came up with more ideas in a subsequent creative exercise than those who had not. The study was small, and its findings should not be overstated; still, it chimes with the experience of many writers and scientists, who describe their best ideas arriving during walks, showers or long journeys, when the mind is left to wander.

What worries me about constant digital distraction is not that it makes us unhappy, though it may, but that it removes the signal altogether. If every empty moment is filled automatically, we lose the discomfort that might otherwise prompt us to change something more fundamental about how we spend our time.

None of this means that we should throw away our phones. The answer, I suspect, lies in something more modest: leaving a few gaps in the day unfilled, and learning to tolerate them. A ten-minute walk without headphones is hardly a radical act. It may, however, be more productive than it looks.

Reading Passage 3 · In praise of boredom

It has become almost impossible to be bored. A queue at the bakery, a delayed train, a dull moment in a meeting: each can now be filled in seconds by a glance at a phone. Most of us regard this as an obvious improvement. I am not so sure.

Boredom has a poor reputation, and not entirely without reason. Chronic boredom has been linked in some studies to overeating, gambling and depression, and few people would choose to spend an afternoon staring at a wall. But the occasional, low-level boredom of everyday life is a different matter. It is, I would argue, a signal rather than a malfunction: a sign that our current activity is not giving us what we need, and a push to look for something better.

Several psychologists have suggested that boredom may also make room for creativity. In one frequently cited experiment, participants who had first been given a tedious task, copying numbers from a telephone directory, came up with more ideas in a subsequent creative exercise than those who had not. The study was small, and its findings should not be overstated; still, it chimes with the experience of many writers and scientists, who describe their best ideas arriving during walks, showers or long journeys, when the mind is left to wander.

What worries me about constant digital distraction is not that it makes us unhappy, though it may, but that it removes the signal altogether. If every empty moment is filled automatically, we lose the discomfort that might otherwise prompt us to change something more fundamental about how we spend our time.

None of this means that we should throw away our phones. The answer, I suspect, lies in something more modest: leaving a few gaps in the day unfilled, and learning to tolerate them. A ten-minute walk without headphones is hardly a radical act. It may, however, be more productive than it looks.

Reading Passage 3 · In praise of boredom

It has become almost impossible to be bored. A queue at the bakery, a delayed train, a dull moment in a meeting: each can now be filled in seconds by a glance at a phone. Most of us regard this as an obvious improvement. I am not so sure.

Boredom has a poor reputation, and not entirely without reason. Chronic boredom has been linked in some studies to overeating, gambling and depression, and few people would choose to spend an afternoon staring at a wall. But the occasional, low-level boredom of everyday life is a different matter. It is, I would argue, a signal rather than a malfunction: a sign that our current activity is not giving us what we need, and a push to look for something better.

Several psychologists have suggested that boredom may also make room for creativity. In one frequently cited experiment, participants who had first been given a tedious task, copying numbers from a telephone directory, came up with more ideas in a subsequent creative exercise than those who had not. The study was small, and its findings should not be overstated; still, it chimes with the experience of many writers and scientists, who describe their best ideas arriving during walks, showers or long journeys, when the mind is left to wander.

What worries me about constant digital distraction is not that it makes us unhappy, though it may, but that it removes the signal altogether. If every empty moment is filled automatically, we lose the discomfort that might otherwise prompt us to change something more fundamental about how we spend our time.

None of this means that we should throw away our phones. The answer, I suspect, lies in something more modest: leaving a few gaps in the day unfilled, and learning to tolerate them. A ten-minute walk without headphones is hardly a radical act. It may, however, be more productive than it looks.

Reading Passage 3 · In praise of boredom

It has become almost impossible to be bored. A queue at the bakery, a delayed train, a dull moment in a meeting: each can now be filled in seconds by a glance at a phone. Most of us regard this as an obvious improvement. I am not so sure.

Boredom has a poor reputation, and not entirely without reason. Chronic boredom has been linked in some studies to overeating, gambling and depression, and few people would choose to spend an afternoon staring at a wall. But the occasional, low-level boredom of everyday life is a different matter. It is, I would argue, a signal rather than a malfunction: a sign that our current activity is not giving us what we need, and a push to look for something better.

Several psychologists have suggested that boredom may also make room for creativity. In one frequently cited experiment, participants who had first been given a tedious task, copying numbers from a telephone directory, came up with more ideas in a subsequent creative exercise than those who had not. The study was small, and its findings should not be overstated; still, it chimes with the experience of many writers and scientists, who describe their best ideas arriving during walks, showers or long journeys, when the mind is left to wander.

What worries me about constant digital distraction is not that it makes us unhappy, though it may, but that it removes the signal altogether. If every empty moment is filled automatically, we lose the discomfort that might otherwise prompt us to change something more fundamental about how we spend our time.

None of this means that we should throw away our phones. The answer, I suspect, lies in something more modest: leaving a few gaps in the day unfilled, and learning to tolerate them. A ten-minute walk without headphones is hardly a radical act. It may, however, be more productive than it looks.

Reading Passage 3 · In praise of boredom

It has become almost impossible to be bored. A queue at the bakery, a delayed train, a dull moment in a meeting: each can now be filled in seconds by a glance at a phone. Most of us regard this as an obvious improvement. I am not so sure.

Boredom has a poor reputation, and not entirely without reason. Chronic boredom has been linked in some studies to overeating, gambling and depression, and few people would choose to spend an afternoon staring at a wall. But the occasional, low-level boredom of everyday life is a different matter. It is, I would argue, a signal rather than a malfunction: a sign that our current activity is not giving us what we need, and a push to look for something better.

Several psychologists have suggested that boredom may also make room for creativity. In one frequently cited experiment, participants who had first been given a tedious task, copying numbers from a telephone directory, came up with more ideas in a subsequent creative exercise than those who had not. The study was small, and its findings should not be overstated; still, it chimes with the experience of many writers and scientists, who describe their best ideas arriving during walks, showers or long journeys, when the mind is left to wander.

What worries me about constant digital distraction is not that it makes us unhappy, though it may, but that it removes the signal altogether. If every empty moment is filled automatically, we lose the discomfort that might otherwise prompt us to change something more fundamental about how we spend our time.

None of this means that we should throw away our phones. The answer, I suspect, lies in something more modest: leaving a few gaps in the day unfilled, and learning to tolerate them. A ten-minute walk without headphones is hardly a radical act. It may, however, be more productive than it looks.

Reading Passage 3 · In praise of boredom

It has become almost impossible to be bored. A queue at the bakery, a delayed train, a dull moment in a meeting: each can now be filled in seconds by a glance at a phone. Most of us regard this as an obvious improvement. I am not so sure.

Boredom has a poor reputation, and not entirely without reason. Chronic boredom has been linked in some studies to overeating, gambling and depression, and few people would choose to spend an afternoon staring at a wall. But the occasional, low-level boredom of everyday life is a different matter. It is, I would argue, a signal rather than a malfunction: a sign that our current activity is not giving us what we need, and a push to look for something better.

Several psychologists have suggested that boredom may also make room for creativity. In one frequently cited experiment, participants who had first been given a tedious task, copying numbers from a telephone directory, came up with more ideas in a subsequent creative exercise than those who had not. The study was small, and its findings should not be overstated; still, it chimes with the experience of many writers and scientists, who describe their best ideas arriving during walks, showers or long journeys, when the mind is left to wander.

What worries me about constant digital distraction is not that it makes us unhappy, though it may, but that it removes the signal altogether. If every empty moment is filled automatically, we lose the discomfort that might otherwise prompt us to change something more fundamental about how we spend our time.

None of this means that we should throw away our phones. The answer, I suspect, lies in something more modest: leaving a few gaps in the day unfilled, and learning to tolerate them. A ten-minute walk without headphones is hardly a radical act. It may, however, be more productive than it looks.

Reading Passage 3 · In praise of boredom

It has become almost impossible to be bored. A queue at the bakery, a delayed train, a dull moment in a meeting: each can now be filled in seconds by a glance at a phone. Most of us regard this as an obvious improvement. I am not so sure.

Boredom has a poor reputation, and not entirely without reason. Chronic boredom has been linked in some studies to overeating, gambling and depression, and few people would choose to spend an afternoon staring at a wall. But the occasional, low-level boredom of everyday life is a different matter. It is, I would argue, a signal rather than a malfunction: a sign that our current activity is not giving us what we need, and a push to look for something better.

Several psychologists have suggested that boredom may also make room for creativity. In one frequently cited experiment, participants who had first been given a tedious task, copying numbers from a telephone directory, came up with more ideas in a subsequent creative exercise than those who had not. The study was small, and its findings should not be overstated; still, it chimes with the experience of many writers and scientists, who describe their best ideas arriving during walks, showers or long journeys, when the mind is left to wander.

What worries me about constant digital distraction is not that it makes us unhappy, though it may, but that it removes the signal altogether. If every empty moment is filled automatically, we lose the discomfort that might otherwise prompt us to change something more fundamental about how we spend our time.

None of this means that we should throw away our phones. The answer, I suspect, lies in something more modest: leaving a few gaps in the day unfilled, and learning to tolerate them. A ten-minute walk without headphones is hardly a radical act. It may, however, be more productive than it looks.

Reading Passage 3 · In praise of boredom

It has become almost impossible to be bored. A queue at the bakery, a delayed train, a dull moment in a meeting: each can now be filled in seconds by a glance at a phone. Most of us regard this as an obvious improvement. I am not so sure.

Boredom has a poor reputation, and not entirely without reason. Chronic boredom has been linked in some studies to overeating, gambling and depression, and few people would choose to spend an afternoon staring at a wall. But the occasional, low-level boredom of everyday life is a different matter. It is, I would argue, a signal rather than a malfunction: a sign that our current activity is not giving us what we need, and a push to look for something better.

Several psychologists have suggested that boredom may also make room for creativity. In one frequently cited experiment, participants who had first been given a tedious task, copying numbers from a telephone directory, came up with more ideas in a subsequent creative exercise than those who had not. The study was small, and its findings should not be overstated; still, it chimes with the experience of many writers and scientists, who describe their best ideas arriving during walks, showers or long journeys, when the mind is left to wander.

What worries me about constant digital distraction is not that it makes us unhappy, though it may, but that it removes the signal altogether. If every empty moment is filled automatically, we lose the discomfort that might otherwise prompt us to change something more fundamental about how we spend our time.

None of this means that we should throw away our phones. The answer, I suspect, lies in something more modest: leaving a few gaps in the day unfilled, and learning to tolerate them. A ten-minute walk without headphones is hardly a radical act. It may, however, be more productive than it looks.

Reading Passage 3 · In praise of boredom

It has become almost impossible to be bored. A queue at the bakery, a delayed train, a dull moment in a meeting: each can now be filled in seconds by a glance at a phone. Most of us regard this as an obvious improvement. I am not so sure.

Boredom has a poor reputation, and not entirely without reason. Chronic boredom has been linked in some studies to overeating, gambling and depression, and few people would choose to spend an afternoon staring at a wall. But the occasional, low-level boredom of everyday life is a different matter. It is, I would argue, a signal rather than a malfunction: a sign that our current activity is not giving us what we need, and a push to look for something better.

Several psychologists have suggested that boredom may also make room for creativity. In one frequently cited experiment, participants who had first been given a tedious task, copying numbers from a telephone directory, came up with more ideas in a subsequent creative exercise than those who had not. The study was small, and its findings should not be overstated; still, it chimes with the experience of many writers and scientists, who describe their best ideas arriving during walks, showers or long journeys, when the mind is left to wander.

What worries me about constant digital distraction is not that it makes us unhappy, though it may, but that it removes the signal altogether. If every empty moment is filled automatically, we lose the discomfort that might otherwise prompt us to change something more fundamental about how we spend our time.

None of this means that we should throw away our phones. The answer, I suspect, lies in something more modest: leaving a few gaps in the day unfilled, and learning to tolerate them. A ten-minute walk without headphones is hardly a radical act. It may, however, be more productive than it looks.

Reading Passage 3 · In praise of boredom

It has become almost impossible to be bored. A queue at the bakery, a delayed train, a dull moment in a meeting: each can now be filled in seconds by a glance at a phone. Most of us regard this as an obvious improvement. I am not so sure.

Boredom has a poor reputation, and not entirely without reason. Chronic boredom has been linked in some studies to overeating, gambling and depression, and few people would choose to spend an afternoon staring at a wall. But the occasional, low-level boredom of everyday life is a different matter. It is, I would argue, a signal rather than a malfunction: a sign that our current activity is not giving us what we need, and a push to look for something better.

Several psychologists have suggested that boredom may also make room for creativity. In one frequently cited experiment, participants who had first been given a tedious task, copying numbers from a telephone directory, came up with more ideas in a subsequent creative exercise than those who had not. The study was small, and its findings should not be overstated; still, it chimes with the experience of many writers and scientists, who describe their best ideas arriving during walks, showers or long journeys, when the mind is left to wander.

What worries me about constant digital distraction is not that it makes us unhappy, though it may, but that it removes the signal altogether. If every empty moment is filled automatically, we lose the discomfort that might otherwise prompt us to change something more fundamental about how we spend our time.

None of this means that we should throw away our phones. The answer, I suspect, lies in something more modest: leaving a few gaps in the day unfilled, and learning to tolerate them. A ten-minute walk without headphones is hardly a radical act. It may, however, be more productive than it looks.

Reading Passage 3 · In praise of boredom

It has become almost impossible to be bored. A queue at the bakery, a delayed train, a dull moment in a meeting: each can now be filled in seconds by a glance at a phone. Most of us regard this as an obvious improvement. I am not so sure.

Boredom has a poor reputation, and not entirely without reason. Chronic boredom has been linked in some studies to overeating, gambling and depression, and few people would choose to spend an afternoon staring at a wall. But the occasional, low-level boredom of everyday life is a different matter. It is, I would argue, a signal rather than a malfunction: a sign that our current activity is not giving us what we need, and a push to look for something better.

Several psychologists have suggested that boredom may also make room for creativity. In one frequently cited experiment, participants who had first been given a tedious task, copying numbers from a telephone directory, came up with more ideas in a subsequent creative exercise than those who had not. The study was small, and its findings should not be overstated; still, it chimes with the experience of many writers and scientists, who describe their best ideas arriving during walks, showers or long journeys, when the mind is left to wander.

What worries me about constant digital distraction is not that it makes us unhappy, though it may, but that it removes the signal altogether. If every empty moment is filled automatically, we lose the discomfort that might otherwise prompt us to change something more fundamental about how we spend our time.

None of this means that we should throw away our phones. The answer, I suspect, lies in something more modest: leaving a few gaps in the day unfilled, and learning to tolerate them. A ten-minute walk without headphones is hardly a radical act. It may, however, be more productive than it looks.