The room I worked in at the university had an upright piano, it is true, but as it and the room itself were used by other students as well, I didn’t get much privacy.  However, there was a fairly mature student who didn’t belong to the university.  She rejoiced in the name of Eurydice Draconi.  She was a fine pianist and a pupil of George Woodhouse.  She specialized in Scriabin, so I often retreated to where she lodged in Kings Road, and listened to her playing of his Fourth and Fifth Sonatas.