Tom Wigley, head groundsman at Moulsford, sadly passed away in October 2018. He is greatly missed by everyone at Moulsford.
Here are a few words from his daughter who also works at the school.

Some days you forget. Tom will know how to... I’ll ask Tom to...
Saying that Mr Wigley loved his work at Moulsford, his love of the land and cricket pitches is just not strong enough to describe his passion. He had always been a man of the land, driving a tractor, combine or digger surrounded by his second love, dogs. Anyone who had a dog at Moulsford knew that Tom always had a sneaky dog biscuit in his pocket. Tom’s association with Moulsford School goes back to the mid-80s when both of his sons attended the school and he was always present at any rugby, football or cricket match his sons were participating in both home and away. I think the best tribute that I can make is using some of the many kind words taken from the caring and sentimental cards sent to the Wigley family.

An incredible man who will be missed by so many.
Simply the best man I have had the pleasure to work with.
Mr Wigley, an utter legend at Moulsford.
He worked hard; took great pride in his work.
Mr Wigley was always so jolly and had a great sense of humour.
What a superman, nothing was too much trouble for Tom, always so kind and helpful.
A wonderful colleague and friend.
He was a true Moulsford hero, a really good bloke.
Such a lovely man who clearly enjoyed the country life and his dogs.

I would like to share this poem with you as a tribute to a wonderful, father, husband and groundsman.

Close the Gate
For this groundsman, the worries are over, lie down and rest your head,
Your time has been and struggles enough, put the tractor in the shed.
Put away your tools and sleep in peace. The fences have mostly all been mended.
You worked the land well and always followed the sun,
Hang up your shovel inside of the barn; your work here on earth is done.
A strength few possess led your journey through life, often a jagged and stony way,
The sun is setting, the pitches are all marked, and here now is the end of your day.
Wash off your work boots in the puddle left by the rain one final time.
Your labour is done; no more must you wait,
Your legacy lives on, your love of the land, and we will close the gate.