My grandmother would greet us warmly at the front door, while my grandfather (a concert pianist) would most likely be in the library, more often than not playing a piece by Chopin (his favourite composer) on his beautiful baby grand piano.
Their home was filled with a wonderful array of paintings, sculptures, photographs and other artworks. With every visit, I found myself captivated by my surroundings.
My parents were also great lovers and collectors of art. Our home was fairly bursting with treasures and resembled a private gallery. So much so I think they could have probably charged admission.
Perhaps in my case a love of art is in the genes.