The designation itself is the anomaly here: when archaeologists and heritage bodies catalogue a monument as occupying its present location, they are acknowledging that the object has moved, that what you see before you is not where it began, and that the original context has been lost or at least separated from the thing itself.

The cross is catalogued under the reference WI007-029004- in the national monuments record, with the current Dublin South City site listed as a secondary location rather than the site of origin. This kind of displacement is not unusual for stone crosses in Ireland. Wayside crosses, grave slabs, and carved stone markers were frequently moved over the centuries, sometimes to protect them from weather or vandalism, sometimes incorporated into later walls or buildings, and sometimes relocated to museum collections, churchyards, or civic spaces far from where they were first erected. Without fuller documentation attached to this particular entry, the original parish, patron, or carving tradition the cross belongs to remains unclear, which is itself a kind of historical record of how easily the stories attached to objects can come unstuck from the objects themselves.

For a visitor, the practical challenge is that "present location" in a heritage record does not always translate to a publicly accessible or clearly marked site. Dublin South City covers a dense urban area, and stone crosses in such settings can turn up in church grounds, behind railings, or in the custody of institutions that require prior arrangement to visit. Cross-referencing the monument number WI007-029004- through the National Monuments Service online database, or contacting the Dublin City Council archaeologist's office, would be the most reliable way to establish exactly where the cross can currently be viewed and whether access is straightforward. If you do locate it, look at the base as well as the head, since displaced crosses sometimes carry tooling marks, inscriptions, or worn iconography that hint at the original date and purpose, details that the bare catalogue entry leaves tantalisingly unresolved.