Nobody knows when it was built. The date is genuinely indeterminate, which places it in that frustrating and fascinating category of Irish rural structures that predate consistent record-keeping and have yielded no artefacts or documentary evidence to pin them to a century. What survives is the shape: a rectangle measuring roughly eleven metres north to south and five metres east to west, with a narrow entrance in the east wall and an internal dividing wall separating a larger northern room from a smaller southern one.

What makes this house more than an isolated curiosity is the company it keeps. It sits in the south-western corner of a field that appears to be contemporary with it, and it belongs to a wider cluster of structures spread across a relatively small area. Two conjoined houses lie about 36 metres to the south-south-east, and a further house sits roughly 42 metres to the south-east. Around this group, particularly to the north and east, a concentration of small fields survives, averaging around ten by twenty metres, the kind of scale associated with intensive, labour-heavy cultivation rather than open grazing. To the east of the house, grass-covered clearance cairns mark where stones were gathered and heaped during land clearance, a common feature of settled farming landscapes, and beyond them a road or trackway runs on a north-east to south-west alignment. Together, these elements suggest not a lone abandoned building but the remnant of an organised agricultural settlement, its internal logic still legible in the arrangement of walls, fields, and paths across the ground.