Fulling mills were an essential, if unglamorous, part of the textile trade; they used water-powered hammers or rollers to pound and compress newly woven wool, tightening the fibres and producing a denser, more weatherproof cloth. This particular site is unusual partly because its physical remains tell two distinct stories at once, the original mill body and a much later expansion that effectively swallowed part of it.

The older mill structure, orientated roughly northeast to southwest, measures just over five metres in length. At some point in the mid to late nineteenth century, a substantial addition was built onto its southeastern end, stretching to an internal length of fifteen and a half metres, dwarfing the original building considerably. Along the northwestern wall, a wheel pit two and a half metres wide once housed a low breastshot or Poncelet wheel. A breastshot wheel is driven by water striking it at roughly axle height, generating power through a combination of weight and impulse; the Poncelet variant, developed in early nineteenth-century France, used curved blades to extract more energy from a relatively slow-moving stream. The presence of this wheel type is a small but telling detail, suggesting the mill was equipped with reasonably up-to-date technology at some stage in its working life.

What remains today is a ruined structure rather than anything intact, but the layering of building phases makes it worth attention as a piece of industrial archaeology. The older core and the expansive Victorian-era addition sit side by side, reflecting the kind of incremental investment that rural mill operations often received when textile demand shifted or local landowners decided to scale up.