RINGWOOD HEALTH AND LEISURE

The New Forest may be home to a treasure trove of delights like the Beaulieu Motor Museum, Robin Hood, and Bambi, but nestled amongst its branches is somewhere far more significant — at least to me.

I’ll explain.

IMAGE SOURCE: TRIPADVISOR

Whilst on a family holiday to the area, my uncle and I found ourselves in need of a gym. After being comprehensively underwhelmed by the local Anytime Fitness — seriously, don’t bother — we decided to give the nearby leisure centre a try. To our delight, Ringwood Health & Leisure was less than five minutes away.

Ringwood Health and Leisure may appear to be just another perfectly decent pillar of the local community, but this visit brought nostalgia flooding back in a tidal wave of improbable scenarios, questionable childcare, and nasal pomposity.

What we had stumbled upon, completely by accident, was not just a leisure centre, but the instantly recognisable setting of the 90s sitcom The Brittas Empire.

For those unfamiliar, the series documented the trials and tribulations of the ever-confident Gordon Brittas and his uniquely misguided approach to leisure centre management. It also quietly set the standard by which I now judge all leisure centres I visit. Basically, anything operating above Brittas levels of dysfunction and we’re doing fine. Some have come close, but thankfully none have ever sunk quite that far.

Driving into the car park, it’s immediately obvious why the silver-clad colossus was chosen as Whitbury Newtown Leisure Centre. The giant glass façade. The green, hole-riddled RSJs, like long columns of mouldy Emmental. And the realisation that the entrance used in the show was merely a set — the true front door far more ordinary.

Now, fans of the show may be disappointed to discover that, thirty years on, the real-life centre appears far more competently run and welcoming than its fictional counterpart — but no less worth a visit for it.

Walking up to reception was surreal. It took every ounce of restraint not to ask the wonderful lady behind the desk which drawer she kept the baby in. If you haven’t seen the show, that sentence will mean nothing — but that’s your fault for not being cultured.

And the surreality only grew on the journey to the gym on the first floor. For a start, the building is nowhere near as vast as it appeared on screen. Secondly, everywhere you look offers a chance to relive an episode. That’s the pool where those people were electrocuted during a baptism. That’s the spot where a cow gave birth. This is the corridor where Gordon Brittas was dragged through a splodge of poo by an ostrich.

I was half-expecting the deputy manager to limp past with a bandaged hand and mint jelly oozing from his ears, but sadly everyone appeared perfectly professional. Again — watch the programme.

And then, before you have a chance to fully process how many workplace disasters once unfolded here, you reach the icing on the cake: the gym.

I was fully prepared to deploy my let’s-get-this-over-with face, but behind the double doors you’ll find a genuinely pleasant, well-laid-out, non-intimidating space that far exceeded expectations. It’s not enormous, but it doesn’t feel lacking. Everything is where it should be. Everything works.

Cardio equipment and a small functional area sit neatly on a mezzanine overlooking the main gym floor, giving each area enough breathing room. Free weights and machines are sensibly arranged. There are a couple of racks, a lifting platform, a proper leg press (not one of those stupid pendulum ones), a good range of bars, and a solid selection of plates — more than enough to keep most people very happy.

Serious lifters aren’t going to mistake it for the Iron Paradise, but it still feels like somewhere you could make genuine progress without judgement. For anyone who wants a comfortable environment without too many egos bouncing around, you’d be hard-pressed to find better. On the day we visited there were only a handful of people training, and it didn’t strike me as somewhere that would ever feel oppressively busy.

And to round the experience off nicely, there’s the moment you pause mid-sip from your bottle, stare out of the window onto the forecourt, and realise you’re standing exactly where Gordon Brittas’ office would have been.

The only thing to watch out for is the dumbbells. The handles and ends rotate independently, which takes some getting used to, but there’s a good selection and more than enough weight for a solid session. Also, if you want to shove anything serious on the sled you will need to cart the plates up a flight of stairs to the mezzanine - but just think of it as some extra cardio.

Following a recent refurb, the gym has been given a fresh lick of paint and the now-obligatory mirror backlighting, making it feel like you're heading to the bar to order a Margaretta. But more importantly, it reflects a wider shift within the fitness sector.

For a long time, leisure-centre gyms were treated as an afterthought, overshadowed by the limelight-hogging twenty-four hour chains. That’s no longer the case. What’s happened at Ringwood demonstrates just how seriously places like this are now taking their role.

For many people, chain gyms carry a stigma of being too teen-oriented, too image-focused, too impersonal. Leisure centres, by contrast, naturally attract a broader, more mixed crowd. That doesn’t mean they can’t offer a gym space at the same standard: welcoming, well-maintained, properly equipped, and genuinely enjoyable to train in.

Leisure-centre gyms have quietly caught up. And with that comes investment — better kit, better upkeep, and a willingness to listen to members. Use the gym, it improves. Improve the gym, more people use it. Everyone wins.

And, unlike standalone gym chains, if you fancy a swim after or a quick game of pin-pong, you don't need to make your car sweaty, you can just nip downstairs.

So I won’t go as far as preaching that leisure centres are the “beating heart of the community”, or indulge in any of the philosophical twaddle Gordon Brittas went on about — but the gym at Ringwood Health & Leisure didn’t disappoint and certainly didn’t leave me feeling short-changed.

Gyms like this deserve to be celebrated. Use them, support them, and they’ll only get better. And if you find yourself in Ringwood and don’t fancy wasting a tenner at Anytime Fitness — seriously, don’t bother — head to the leisure centre instead.

You’ll get a solid workout in a cracking gym, with a generous dose of TV history thrown in for good measure.