
Well Dear Readers,
I would like to share that I have lived here long enough to accept several realities. Bread goes mouldy overnight. Makeup will always slide off your face in summer, Tea never tastes quite right in the water here. And no matter how often one cleans, dust returns within approximately four and a half minutes.
Honestly, I am exhausted by it.
In the northern hemisphere, dust felt manageable. Civilised, even. A polite sort of dust. You’d wipe the skirting boards on a Thursday and things remained respectable until at least Sunday lunch.
Australian dust, however, behaves like it has a personal vendetta.
You clean the television cabinet, turn around to put the cloth in the sink, and by the time you look back there is already a fresh layer forming, as though the house itself is quietly decomposing around you.
I used to think I was simply failing as a housekeeper. But after speaking to neighbours, friends and one deeply traumatised woman in Bunnings clutching a packet of microfibre cloths, I discovered we are all suffering together.
The problem, apparently, is that Australia is essentially one enormous dry continent trying to enter your living room.
There is dust in the soil, dust in the air, dust blowing over from roadworks three suburbs away and dust drifting in every time somebody opens a door for more than six seconds. Add ceiling fans, open-plan homes, children, dogs, sandy feet and those wretched louvers architects are so fond of, and you have the perfect conditions for indoor despair.
And don’t get me started on ceiling fans.
We adore ceiling fans! They are in every room, spinning away day and night like cheerful little helicopters distributing dust evenly throughout the property. One switches them off to clean and discovers an alarming furry coating on the blades, hanging there above one’s head like a biological experiment.
I climbed a stepladder recently to clean ours and came down looking like a Wookie from Star Wars.
The worst part is that dust has a way of making perfectly decent people feel lazy. You vacuum. You mop. You wipe every surface with determination worthy of a military campaign. Then the afternoon sun hits the room at just the wrong angle and suddenly the entire house appears to be filled with floating particles and regret.
It is deeply demoralising.
So I thought I would share with you my battle campaign strategy. Of course, I do realise I am fighting a losing battle but one does have to try. Never say die is my moto. So here is a list of ways to fight the good fight.
Improve Air Filtration
Replace or clean your air-conditioner filters regularly.
If you use ceiling fans, clean the blades often – they throw dust back into the air.
A HEPA air purifier can make a noticeable difference, especially in bedrooms.
Vacuum Smarter
Use a vacuum with a HEPA filter (High-efficiency Particulate Air – 99.97 percent proof apparently); cheaper vacuums often blow fine dust back out.
Vacuum slowly, especially carpets and rugs.
Don’t forget:
skirting boards
under beds
curtains
couches
mattress edges
Use a damp microfibre cloth instead of dry dusters or feather dusters.
Dust from top to bottom:
shelves
blinds
furniture
floors last
A lot of household dust is:
fabric fibres
skin particles
outdoor dirt
pet dander
Wash bedding weekly.
Reduce clutter and decorative fabrics.
Shake mats outside regularly.
Leave shoes at the door.
Brush pets outdoors if possible.
And for heavens sake, vacuum that sofa.
Too much humidity can make dust stick to surfaces and encourage mould spores.
Aim for indoor humidity around 40–50%.
Use exhaust fans in bathrooms/laundry.
A dehumidifier can help in humid coastal weather.
People often miss:
air vents
tops of doors
behind TVs/electronics
lamp shades
under fridges
wardrobe shelves
A manageable approach:
Daily: quick kitchen wipe + 5-minute floor sweep
Weekly: vacuum + damp dusting
Monthly: fans, vents, under furniture
Seasonally: deep clean curtains, cushions, mattresses
And now, my dear exhausted readers, at some stage you will have to surrender somewhat. At my age, one must choose battles carefully. I still clean, naturally. I was raised properly. But I no longer expect victory. Dust in Australia cannot be defeated. At best, it can be briefly inconvenienced.
So now I dust with lower expectations and a stronger sense of humour.
And if visitors notice a fine layer on the bookshelf, I simply tell them it is not neglect.
It is atmospheric – romantic even… well that’s what I tell myself.
Until next week dears. Fight the good fight. X