Himmel und Erde

Himmel und Erde is actually a popular meal here, it's potatoes and apples cooked and served with onions and often blood sausage or bacon...not something I'm planning to try anytime soon.

It translates as 'Heaven and Hell'

But don't panic! There hasn't been another Evans family outing to Ikea...

Thursday morning was my return trip to the dentist (hell) and Friday in exactly the same time slot I had a hairdressers appointment (heaven)

My new ceramic tops (inlays or whatever it is she calls them) had been made and had to be fitted, although Barbie was a little concerned that one mighn't fit perfectly as the manufacturer had commented that the mould wasn't very good (that was probably the one done at the end of the morning's session when my jaw was aching with the effort of staying in the open position for 2 hours, as well as from that bloody big needle she kept sticking in, and so it was quite possible that my teeth kept closing onto her hand...well, when everything's been numbed you can't feel what you're doing until they yelp)

The new top one went in smoothly then they tried the bottom left, only to discover, when I screamed in pain that the injection hadn't been effective enough.

Bottom right went in OK, but I think now it's too high, so I shall have to get her to do something about it next week when I get it all checked, I couldn't tell at the time because everything was numb.

And back to the bottom left, 3 injections and still I could feel pain (very low pain thresh-hold clearly) so Barbie stropped off for a sulk while the anaesthetic took a firmer hold (I was numb for 2 hours after escaping from the torture chamber) and finally work was completed.

I felt very sorry for myself afterwards, desperate for a comforting cup of tea but only capable of sucking water through a straw...pathetic!

Friday morning more than made up for it though.

I hate people messing with my hair, Jas would love to tweak it (to get her own back on the way I play with hers I guess) but it really freaks me out, makes me all shivery.
However, the hairdresser is a completely different matter.
I lurrrrrrrrrrrrve trips to the hairdresser - once I've found a good one that is (and that can take a while, one of the most traumatic things about moving to Germany was leaving my hairdresser, one who cuts your hair just so, and is entertaining at the same time - they can be hard to find)

Justin is English, but has lived in Germany for about 25 years and he cuts like a dream! We chat away in English (clearly) making jokes about the Germans, it's very relaxing.
But this time it was even better! Normally Justin has BFBS (British Forces Broadcasting Service) playing in the background which is OK, but Friday he had got Radio 1 playing - the wonder of the internet. It was just like getting my hair cut back in England (although it's cheaper here).