Shrapnel

Complete emergency blip tonight. I'd forgotten how the dark evenings lead me to the bizarre behaviour of searching around the house for vaguely interesting un-blipped items!

Here we have a glass cup filled with some WW2 shrapnel, collected by my friend's father near there caravan in Northern France. I like to look at it every now and then and think of all the history behind those bits of metal. Who made them? Did they think about what would happen with what they were making? What happened to the men who fired them? How far had their dead weight been carried across fields, fells and tracks? How close were they to their targets? How odd is it that fate has had them end up in a pretty glass on top of the piano in the sun lounge?