Duncan Murray, 1980 - 2009

It isn’t unusual to admire someone you worked with, but when I joined the wine trade in 2001, my assistant manager at Oddbins was a man I grew to admire, but not because of his work – by his own admission he wasn’t overly brilliant at that! He was given the reins of the Oddbins shop in St Andrews and for two months he and I staffed it on our own, with a grand total of 7 months experience combined, and we did a not too shabby job. I worked hard, he played hard, and on more than one occasion I’d arrive to find him looking a little worse for wear and in yesterday's clothes! For those two months we struggled on 12 hour shifts, for thirteen days straight, fueled by rather tasty wines which he introduced me to, until finally we got some relief in the form of a new employee. By that point, I knew I wanted my career to be in the wine trade.

Later on, he would joke that he “was the manager of Oddbins, St Andrews… but didn’t manage”, but nevertheless he moved to Bristol and was instrumental in opening up one of Oddbins’ Ultimate Wine Stores, and he stayed there until he decided, apparently on a whim, to leave and return home to Scotland

Realising he had to get home on some form of transport, he opted, not for the train or a car, but to cycle from Lands End to John O Groats. Buying a knackered old bike and a few spare inner tubes, he peddled his way up the country, not to achieve a record time, just because he wanted to say he’d done it. This was, to me, the serious element of the man. His schemes may have been unusual, but the determination to succeed was unwavering.

He then discovered the Plymouth Dakar Rally, a car jaunt for old bangers, and decided he wanted to do it. There was just one problem, he didn’t have a driving licence! Again, because he had set his mind on doing it, he took lessons, got his licence and set off for Dakar in a beat up Ford Orion that he had bought for less than £100.

Moving to Aberdeen saw him living with, according to his tales, a stripper, and then, again, apparently on a whim, he went to University and studied business and Spanish and committed to it with the same determination that he completed his previous exploits. There never appeared to be a plan in his life, just a series of spontaneous decisions made which always seemed to work out and almost always accompanied by insane dancing and laughter.

Duncan Murray was a man who, to the casual observer, would not be the person you would point to and say was someone to admire, but to me he was. No matter how mad the idea, he embraced life and did whatever he needed to do to achieve his goal. Around the dinner table, whenever his name came up there would be dozens of “Duncan Murray stories”, all funny, crazy and, usually, inebriated, but they always made people laugh, and that is his legacy. Anyone that can make people laugh, whether they are in the room or not, is a man that you have to admire.

You were taken too soon my friend, on your 29th birthday. If I ever make anything of myself in the wine trade, you were the one that guided me, in your own unique fashion, on my first few steps of that journey.

I’ll miss you.