It has no name on record, only a small symbol on a nineteenth-century map, the kind of mark that cartographers used without ceremony for objects they could measure but could not explain. That anonymity is itself a quiet curiosity: whoever raised this stone left no inscription, no surrounding monument, and no obvious companion feature.

The stone was recorded on the Ordnance Survey six-inch map of 1842, depicted but not identified by name, which suggests it was already a known feature of the landscape by then, though its origins stretch back considerably further. Standing stones, as a category, are typically prehistoric in date, raised during the Bronze Age or earlier, and were used for purposes that remain genuinely uncertain, whether as boundary markers, ritual focal points, or astronomical alignments. This particular example sits on a gentle south-facing slope, oriented along a northeast-to-southwest axis. Its dimensions, 1.34 metres by 0.63 metres in plan, give it a solid, deliberate presence. The detail that perhaps rewards most attention is a practical one: packing stones were noted at its base, small wedging stones used to stabilise the upright when it was first set in place. That those stones are still there, still doing their job after what may be thousands of years, gives some sense of how carefully the original builders went about their work.