That elevation is not incidental. It is one of the characteristic signs of a longstanding sacred enclosure, the kind of site where the ground has been built up over centuries of burial and use, and where the boundary wall traces a form far older than any of the memorials it now contains.

Within the walls, measuring roughly 70 metres in length and 50 metres in width, the foundations of a medieval parish church are still visible at ground level. The church itself is long gone, but its footprint survives, and so does one particularly telling fragment: a piece of limestone window jamb, the vertical side-piece of a window opening, dating to the late medieval period. Rather than being discarded or lost, this carved stone has been repurposed as a gravemarker to the east of the church foundations. It is a quietly practical act of reuse that also preserves something that might otherwise have vanished. The visible memorials throughout the rest of the graveyard are 19th and 20th century in date, meaning the older history of the site is largely underground, apart from that single architectural survivor. The site was surveyed by Egan in 1992 and the record was compiled by Geraldine Stout, later updated by Christine Baker.

The graveyard remains in active use, which means access requires the usual consideration shown to any working burial ground. The raised oval enclosure is most legible when approached with the boundary wall in view, as the change in ground level becomes apparent from outside. The church foundations are subtle rather than dramatic, and the repurposed window jamb east of the former church is easy to walk past without realising what it is. Knowing to look for it, and understanding that it once formed part of a medieval window, makes the encounter with it considerably more rewarding.