A modern field boundary cuts directly across it on a north-east to south-west axis, and this accident of land division has effectively determined which half of the monument has come down to us. The northern portion sits in a field that was never reclaimed, leaving the scarp and outer fosse, a shallow encircling ditch that would once have defined the platform's edge, still faintly legible in the ground. The southern half was not so lucky. Agricultural improvement levelled it almost entirely, and the Ordnance Survey six-inch map, which records only what it could still see, reflects the same asymmetry, depicting the northern arc but leaving the southern side blank.

The enclosure sits on a slight rise with views in all directions, with a river to the west and another enclosure of the same type roughly 300 metres to the north. Measurements taken for an Office of Public Works file in 1956 recorded the platform as approximately 108 feet, or 35 metres, across on its north-south axis, with a surrounding fosse about 12 feet wide. By the time of more recent survey work, the visible diameter had contracted to between 18 and 26 metres depending on the axis measured, the difference a direct consequence of the southern levelling. Locally, the monument was known as a burial mound, a tradition passed down among farming families in the area. Whether or not that identification is accurate in any strict archaeological sense, it speaks to a long-standing awareness that the low platform was something set apart, something not quite ordinary ground. No entrance feature has been identified, which is itself a detail worth noting: enclosures of this kind, ringed by a scarp and fosse, sometimes preserve the ghost of a causeway or gap, but here, if one ever existed, it has left no trace.