That interior, still full of grave plots, gives the fragmentary shell an oddly inhabited quality, even as the east gable has vanished entirely and the remaining walls stand at little more than head height.

The church was already described as being in ruins by 1774, yet by 1840, when the Ordnance Survey field teams came through, the walls were recorded as nearly whole. Something between that survey and the present day completed the deterioration. The Ordnance Survey's six-inch map of 1842 captured the building as a rectangle of roughly ten metres east to west and seven metres north to south, and the researcher Power, writing in 1932, put the probable original length at around forty feet. What survives today is a southern wall of 7.7 metres, a northern wall of 10.8 metres reaching a maximum height of 2.75 metres, and a western wall that has been repaired and capped at some point to halt further collapse. The present entrance, a gate and steps at the western end of the south wall, follows an old pattern: the antiquary John Windele, writing around 1852, noted that this was also the location of a former doorway.

The church extends westward from the graveyard it belongs to, a spatial arrangement that makes the ruin feel slightly separate from the wider burial ground, almost as though it has been set a little apart to be observed rather than simply absorbed into the landscape of headstones.