Whatever building once stood here was already a ruin by 1808, when the cartographer William Larkin recorded it as such on his map of the county. By 1837, when the Ordnance Survey produced its first six-inch edition, the ruin itself had been replaced in the record by a small, oval-shaped grove of trees, the kind of deliberate planting that sometimes marks a former dwelling or a place someone thought worth sheltering. By 1980, a field survey found no surface remains at all. Today, even aerial photography shows nothing.

The sequence is a quiet lesson in how thoroughly a structure can be erased. Larkin's 1808 map is one of the more detailed early county surveys of the period, and the fact that the building merited the annotation "Ruin" suggests it was already well advanced in its decline before the nineteenth century had properly begun. What the building originally was, who built it, and when it was abandoned are questions the surviving record cannot answer. What it does preserve is the outline of the site's slow transformation: from ruin, to tree-covered mound, to levelled ground, to divided fields crossed by a modern fence running north-west to south-east. The ridge itself remains, with its undulating pasture and open views, overlooking the same valley the building's occupants would once have looked out across.