That small contradiction, a building apparently still covered yet already considered lost, hints at how quickly a place can slip from use into obscurity without anyone quite marking the moment of its ending.

What remains today sits within an early ecclesiastical enclosure, a type of boundary that typically demarcates the founding footprint of an early Christian religious site, often predating any standing medieval fabric. The church itself was a substantial rectangular building, oriented east to west in the standard liturgical manner, measuring just over 23 metres in length and more than 8 metres wide. By the time Neary wrote about it in 1914, he could still identify a large doorway set into the middle of the north wall, but that feature has since been buried beneath a later field wall, and its exact position can no longer be determined on the ground. The east gable has been reduced to a grass-covered foundation line with a considerable pile of rubble beyond it, and only the eastern portion of the south wall can be traced at all. A short stretch of walling running north to south appears to cut across the south wall's line at the western end, suggesting later interference with the structure. The west gable is the one element that gives a real sense of what the building once was: it still stands to an internal height of roughly 2.1 metres, is a metre thick, and retains traces of internal render on its face. Towards the western end of the interior, there are also signs of an internal division, and the floor level drops by 0.3 metres to the west of it, a small but telling detail about how the space may once have been arranged.