Glossop's Haunted Theatre

Although stories of haunted theatres are quite common Glossops own local theatre - The Partington Theatre is reputedly haunted by the ghost of Hilda Knight..." 
 
The Partington Theatre was created in 1957 on the second floor of Glossop's Liberal Club by a group of local actors and actresses who were keen to start a repertory club in the area. The driving force behind the venture was producer Miss Hilda Knight. Sadly she was suffering from TB at the time and died shortly after the theatre opened its doors in 1958 but it is said that she still haunts the theatre, keeping a benevolent watch over the Players. Several times during productions and particularly at the final curtain call a colourful butterfly has suddenly appeared and it is widely agreed to be a manifestation of the spirit of the departed lady whose inner-strength and determination brought the Partington Theatre into being.
 
Apparently the butterfly has been known to alight on members of the cast and is such a part of the theatre's history that it has been incorporated into their letterhead design. 

Founding member Melvyn Warhurst told of of an occasion when he was working in the bar with his wife during a social evening. They were the last to leave and, after tidying up, switching everything off and leaving the building secure, they took a friend home. The return journey took them past the theatre and they were surprised and somewhat disturbed to see all the lights were now on in the theatre. Mr Warhurst parked on Norfolk Square and came across to check the building. He found the main door secure with no sign of a break in. He unlocked it and proceeded to open the inner door. At the exact moment that he did so all the lights switched off simultaneously.
 
On another occasion, members Grenville Castree and Frank Ainsworth were working late one Sunday night painting scenery. It was about 10pm and they were the only people in the building. Mr Castree took a break from the job and left the auditorium, walking down several flights of stone steps to the dressing room in order to wash out some brushes. While he was there he suddenly heard loud footsteps running down the stairs. He called his partner but there was no reply. Suspecting an intruder, he picked up a short stick and ventured back up the steps. He found nothing. "When I got back upstairs, Frank was exactly where I'd left him - up the ladder painting scenery."