Shostakovich, pleased by the success of the concert, included me in an invitation to supper at his home on Marat Street (or Nikolayevskaya Street as we usually called it). It was a great honour for me, and I was beside myself with excitement as I walked through the freezing night to the house which had until such a short time ago been closed to me. I was the youngest and most insignificant of the guests, yet Shostakovich, man of true breeding that he was, accorded the same welcome to everyone irrespective of rank. In that (for me) unforgettable night, he was irresistibly gay, graceful, alert, ardent. Pleasantly merry after a couple of drinks, he was happy to sit at the piano and play his own and anyone else’s music for those who wanted to dance-which they did with the best will in the world, notably Lev Knipper, the composer of the famous song 'Polyushko-Pole' and his radiantly beautiful wife, who had come from Moscow especially for the concert. I have a vivid memory of the large, old-fashioned frame of Yury Shaporin lumbering around the floor, contrasting comically with the delicate grace of our host. << less