I don’t know how to work this ‘eyepad.’ But it’s typing at least.

It’s tough being immortal. On the surface, it sounds amazing – Being able to see history unfold in front of you. I have met some of the biggest names in the books from Napoleon (I was never a lover of the uniform), Genghis Kahn (ate way too much raw meat, even by my standard), and Ghani. Great fellow. Had a lot of good ideas. I’ll have to look him up and see how he’s doing.

What do you mean he’s dead? Ugh. You sleep for twenty years and everything falls apart.

Anyway…

But in 2022, there doesn’t seem much scope anymore for warlords. A lost gem in our time. Now, the world is focused on money and personal growth. Pfft. When my food wants to be the best version of itself and put it all over Instagram, its somewhat off putting. Gone are the days of stalking a quiet village and feeding off the sleeping drunks, or if I was feeling really frivolous - a Lord or a Dame. Their blood is often much richer (pardon the pun), but it comes with a bitter after taste of caviar. Dear Cattle, please stop eating fish food. It gives me stomach cramps.

Side note – I’m sure Tim Burton is some kind of vampire. Nobody can look that good in black and be that talented at the dark and macabre without a little vitamin V, if you catch my drift.

The modern world has changed so much since I was a little fangling feeding from rats in London all those years ago. The Roman occupation made things difficult at the time, but they were fond of crucifixions, which for a night dweller like me, was basically like a shish kebab. So, every cloud and all that.

These days however, the hunt is much more difficult, what with my food being tracked at all times by their phones, working night shifts and having families, bills and social media. Nobody can just go missing these days. Draws too much attention to you. So unfortunately, I’ve had to resort to Uber Eats when I want something a little bloody. They don’t take gold either, so sadly I’ve had to adapt to getting a bank account which was annoying as they don’t open at night. I tried telephone banking, but that was a story of another day which resulted in me spending a week with an ice pack to my head from the stress of trying to press ‘option one.’ I should really trim my claws.

Home delivery has its perks though. No fuss. I click, I feed, I sleep. The best part? Nobody thinks twice about coming to my castle in the dead of the night with raw offal, so long as I tip them 25%. The wolves in the grounds bother them somewhat, but they’re well trained. They only kill if I tell them too. Keeps the mailman away at least.

Anyway, that’s all from me. It’s April and there should be some lambs in the local farms left unattended. Until next time.

See ya.