A clean sweep

Mornings in Japan are a far cry from those of my previous life in the UK. After getting up, folding the futons and stashing them behind sliding doors, then it's a case of performing the most important ritual of the day - sweeping and then washing the entrance hall and front steps with salt water. Jane wrote a dissertation on such purification rituals, all about how they are quasi-religious rites with links to Shinto and Buddhism and all that, but from my point of view they are a pain. If I do a proper bucket-and-scrub job, shacho complains about how wet the step is and how all the students traipse mud into the house. If I barely sprinkle a bit of water for form's sake, giri-no-shacho is liable to do the whole job again herself, for fear that I have upset the cosmic powers that be through my lacklustre effort. The only winner in all this is Chame-chan, who finds a bucket of salt water in the entrance hall even more irresistible than the downstairs toilet bowl.