Dust? Never.

Obviously there is a degree of dust in everbody's life, except for Fang, the Mother in Law.
Fang and the poor bedevilled Mr Fang came to house sit for us while we gallivanted off to La Belle France and Barcelona on our motorbike. Two weeks later we arrived home and they departed full of the joys of spring having replenished their batteries. Relaxation for Fang involves hoovers, rubber gloves, spray wax, spray cleaning agents, are you getting the picture? Pun intended.
I had presented Mrs Booty with a bunch of Beryl Cook pictures, all framed in the same wood which had, note the use of 'HAD,' a dusty blue coating applied. It took a day or so but we gradually noticed that only one painting had the 'dusty blue' effect. Fang had removed all the others from their hooks and worked her magic at removing any trace of the 'dusty' coating. It would have taken her ages; she must have thought us the grubbiest pair of loungers ever. The house was immaculate, our picture frames were immaculate; if only she had left well alone, they were all the same before we went away, now one stands out from the rest and looks, well, dusty!

(Honest, the frame should look like this)