I can date the awakening of my interest in learning the piano to the afternoon of Sunday, April 20, 1986, when I watched on television a recital given in Moscow by Vladimir Horowitz. An old man of 81, the master had finally returned to his native Russia after years of exile in the United States.It was an emotional occasion. He began formally with sonatas and then, when the applause had died away, launched into Prelude in G Major Opus 32 No 5.