It’s a weird feeling. You remember the rolling hills, that oddly futuristic grass-covered dome, and the giant, terrifyingly fast-growing flowers from your childhood. For a generation of kids, the Teletubbies set—affectionately or perhaps infamously known as the remnants of Tubby-land—was a staple of the morning routine. But if you went looking for it today on a map of Warwickshire, England, you wouldn't find a magical playground. You’d find a pond.
People are obsessed with nostalgia. Honestly, the fascination with what happens to iconic film sets once the cameras stop rolling is basically a modern form of urban exploration. We want to believe these places still exist in some stasis, waiting for the Noo-Noo to come back and vacuum up some Tubby Custard. The reality is much more grounded, a bit messy, and surprisingly final.
Where was the Teletubbies set located?
The show wasn't filmed in some high-tech studio in London. It was shot on a private farm in Wimpstone, Warwickshire. The production company, Ragdoll Productions, leased a field from a local farmer named Rosemary Harding. It was the perfect spot. The natural dips in the land made it feel isolated from the rest of the world, which is exactly what you want when you're filming four colorful aliens with televisions in their stomachs.
During the peak of the show’s popularity between 1997 and 2001, the location was one of the most secret spots in the UK. They had to keep it quiet. If fans had known exactly where Tinky Winky lived, the farm would have been overrun. Even back then, trespassers were a constant headache for the production crew and the Harding family.
The struggle with the remnants of Tubby-land
Once the original run of the show ended in 2001, the set didn't just stay there as a museum. That’s the big misconception. Most people think you can just hike out there and see the dome. You can't.
After filming wrapped, the props were removed. The "Magic Windmill" was gone. The flowers were packed away. But the hill? The Tubbytronic Superdome? That was a permanent structure built into the earth. For a decade, the remnants of Tubby-land sat there, slowly being reclaimed by nature. The grass grew long. The bright green paint on the dome faded. It started to look like a relic from a forgotten civilization rather than a children's TV set.
Rosemary Harding, the landowner, was stuck in a nightmare. Even though the show was off the air, "Teletubbies tourists" were relentless. People would jump fences, trek across private farmland, and trample crops just to get a glimpse of the hollowed-out hill. It wasn't just a few people; it was a constant stream of trespassers. Some were harmless fans, but others were looking for souvenirs.
Imagine trying to run a quiet farm and having people constantly wandering into your backyard looking for Laa-Laa. It’s exhausting.
The decision to flood the set
By 2013, Harding had enough. The remnants of Tubby-land were more trouble than they were worth. She didn't turn it into a tourist attraction—which, let's be real, probably would have made a killing—because she wanted her privacy back.
She decided to remove the hill entirely.
The dome was demolished. The ground was excavated. To make sure nobody ever came back looking for the site again, the area was flooded. Today, the spot where the Teletubbies lived is a large, unassuming pond. It’s used by the farm's sheep and local wildlife. If you stood at the edge of it today, you’d have no idea that millions of children once stared at this exact patch of dirt through their TV screens.
"People were jumping fences and crossing cattle fields," Harding told reporters years ago. She was pretty blunt about it. She wanted the fans gone, and the water was the only way to make that happen. It worked.
What happened to the props and the reboot?
You might be wondering about the "new" Teletubbies. When the show was rebooted in 2015, they didn't go back to the farm. Technology had moved on. Instead of building a massive physical set in a windy English field, the new production used a mix of smaller-scale sets and heavy CGI.
The original props are mostly gone. Some pieces ended up in museums, like the National Science and Media Museum in Bradford, which has held Teletubbies-related artifacts in its collection. But the actual "Home Hill"? That’s underwater.
Common myths about the site
- Myth: The set is still there and you can visit it. Fact: It’s a pond on private property. Trespassing is still illegal.
- Myth: The actors lived in the dome during filming. Fact: It was a hot, cramped filming location filled with cables and lights. They stayed in local hotels.
- Myth: The rabbits on set were normal bunnies. Fact: They were actually a giant breed (Flemish Giants) because normal rabbits looked too small next to the 7-foot-tall Teletubby costumes.
Why we can't let go of the remnants of Tubby-land
There is something deeply haunting about the "abandoned" version of something that was once so vibrant. It’s the contrast. The Teletubbies lived in a world of high-saturation colors and constant sunshine. Seeing photos of the remnants of Tubby-land from the mid-2000s—grey, overgrown, and empty—hits a specific nerve. It’s "liminal space" energy.
It reminds us that even the most magical parts of our childhood are subject to time, weather, and the practical needs of a working farm. The fact that it was destroyed and flooded adds a layer of mystery. It’s like a modern-day Atlantis, just much smaller and located in the West Midlands.
How to explore the history responsibly
If you’re a die-hard fan or a pop-culture historian, don't go to Wimpstone. You'll just annoy a farmer and see a pond you aren't supposed to be near. Instead, there are better ways to engage with the history of the show.
Check out the archives. The BBC and Ragdoll Productions have released extensive behind-the-scenes footage over the years. You can find documentaries that show the construction of the original dome, which was a massive engineering feat for 1990s children's television.
Visit the Media Museums. As mentioned, real artifacts—the actual costumes and some props—are occasionally put on display at the National Science and Media Museum. Seeing the actual scale of a Teletubby (they are massive, Tinky Winky is nearly 10 feet tall with the antenna) is way more interesting than looking at a muddy pond.
Use Google Earth. If you're really curious, you can find the coordinates for the old site (near 52.122, -1.713). Switching to "historical imagery" in some satellite map programs allows you to slide back the clock. You can literally watch the green dome disappear and the water fill in. It's the only way to see the remnants of Tubby-land without trespassing.
The story of the Teletubbies set is a lesson in the lifecycle of fame. One day you’re the center of the cultural universe, and a decade later, you’re a watering hole for sheep. It’s a bit sad, sure, but there’s also something poetic about the land returning to its original state. The magic wasn't in the grass or the concrete dome anyway; it was in the cameras and the memories of the kids watching.
If you want to see what the site looks like now, look for drone footage from 2013-2015 on YouTube. Several creators managed to capture the final days of the excavation before the water took over. It’s the closest you’ll get to seeing the end of an era. Just remember that the site is private property, and the owners have made it very clear that the "Tubby-land" era is officially over.