I will assume you all realised it was St Patrick's Day (patron saint of Irish pub owners) yesterday.
This is how I celebrated it:
05.30 - yes, a.m. - alarm rings. I creak out of bed, mumbling foul curses under my breath.
05.45 - 06.15 - slumped over coffee and muesli, peering bleary-eyed at the laptop.
06.30 - drive to a company whose engineers insist that 07.30 is a great time for an English lesson (they all get up at ridiculous times like 4 in the morning which they see as a badge of honour instead of what it really is - total insanity!)
07.30 - first student arrives, followed swiftly by the rest. I "teach" them.
08.30 - drive back home to pick up TM and take her to work.
11.00 - back in aforementioned company doing some translation before "teaching" the next group.
13.00 - feeling totally knackered, eyes starting to droop catastrophically. I discover I have nodded off in the middle of scrolling a page of text.
14.00 - a student arrives, followed swiftly etc etc. They tell me about the engines they are working on... this induces in me rolly-eye syndrome.
15.30 - they leave, more translation.
17.00 - pick up TM and drive home.
18.00 - jump on my bike an cycle into Munich for the sound check.
18.30 - arrive at Kilians Irish Pub; it's totally packed with drunken, dancing, shouting Irish and other assorted nationalities.
18.45 - abandon attempts to do sound check, the public is just too loud.
18.50 - EAT for the first time since the long digested muesli!
20.00 - 01.15 diddly -for example - plus copious amounts of excruciating feedback thanks to abandoned soundcheck.
01.30 - fight my way through admiring fans to the back of pub where I have an urgent appointment with an Augustiner.
01.36 - that magnificent and incomparable first Schluck - glug glug. Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh...
01.40 - 03.30 - get better acquainted with the finer points of this wonderful beer. During this time I got talking to an American marine on the next table - they can be scary people. This guy had been in Afghanistan and Iraq. He made a machine gun shooting gesture and said "ah shucks, we only do it for the paycheck". At that moment my daughter came in and started telling us about one of the guys at the pub who is on holiday - in Vietnam. I did a throat cut gesture to stop her, I leaned over to her and rolling my eyes in the direction of the marine said "don't mention Vietnam - I mentioned it once but I think I got away with it".
03.45ish - pub closes and ejects the stunned and dazed leftover rabble into the sweet fresh air in Frauenplatz.
03.55ish - I climb onto my bike and cycle home with a noticeable touch of the slalom.
04.30 - home. Quick cuppa and...
04.50 - bed.
Didn't quite manage the full 24 hours but it was a brave attempt.