Ivan Pavlov’s work does not receive the recognition within the Church of England that it deserves. This may be because a degree in theology provides a different skill set to that granted by a degree in psychology. Equally, one may argue that although a vicar may not have a degree in psychology, they should have a pretty good idea what makes people tick. Sadly, this is often untrue which is why it is left to myself, a sociopath, to extol Pavlov’s virtues.

To summarise Pavlov’s work briefly, psychological events can trigger automatic bodily responses and the connection between the two can be learnt. In Pavlov’s case, he used a bell to make dogs salivate. Not the most obvious way for a learned man to spend his time, I will admit, but there are a number of practical outcomes of this work.

For example, I have often been exposed to crises, more so than most my fellow clergy. Therefore, I have learnt certain responses which enable me to be effective when a crisis arises, rather than the usual Church of England methodology of running around in small circles.

Today’s crisis was as follows:

Larry Seagry, the Superintendent Minister of the Musdon Circuit had failed to turn up to the service to celebrate the start of a Local Ecumenical Project with my church. This was an important event in the life of his church and circuit, and also important to him. His failure to appear could hardly be voluntary. Accordingly I started a plan of action on the basis of a few assumptions that came from experience of this type of situation.

I led Albert Tusker, Chair of the Methodist District through to the vestry, where Bishop James, Jimmy Down – Larry’s junior, Martin Day – my curate, and Psycho were standing around, robing and talking of nothing in particular.

“Psycho,” I said, “Can you find Mrs Horton and bring her here, please? And Dennis too, if he’s present.”

“The copper?” asked Psycho, understandably surprised.

“Detective Inspector Dennis Thorpe, yes.”

“You want me to bring him here?”

I could sympathise with his reluctance – someone who voluntarily changes their name by deed poll to “Psycho” cannot be expected to have the easiest relationship with the police.

“Yes, Psycho, if you could collar him for me, I would be grateful.”

Psycho looked at me for a moment, realised this was serious and left.

“Jimmy,” I said.

He looked at me, confused.

“When was the last time you had contact with Larry?” I asked.

“Oh – I don’t know – last night, I guess. About eight-ish. Going over some stuff for today. He thought we should get here early, because the Anglicans always make things more complicated than they need to be, and he wanted to be ready for it.”

He had clearly forgotten that he was talking to an Anglican, and looked mildly concerned when I handed him a service sheet.

“If I were you, I’d start rehearsing Larry’s lines.”

“Why?”

“He’s not going to be here.”

“I don’t know why you think that,” said Albert, “Man’s just a bit late. If you’re really that worried about it, then give him a call.”

“No point,” I replied.

Bishop James succeeded in pulling his head through his robes, and said, “I expect this service to start on time, David.”

Despite his many virtues, Bishop James was a stickler for services starting on time.

“This will not be a problem,” I reassured him. “Jimmy will have learnt his part in the next seven minutes”

“What do you mean there’s no point calling Larry?” asked Albert.

“Because he won’t answer.”

“He’ll jolly well answer for me,” said Albert, pulling out his phone. I paraphrase his response somewhat. It was clear that his Pavlovian responses were not trained for this kind of event.

Psycho and Abigail entered the vestry, with Violet in tow.

“Dennis is just coming,” said Psycho.

“Idiot’s not answering his phone,” said Albert. “I’ll keep trying.”

“Abigail, Larry Seagry has not arrived. He was last spoken to around eight o’clock last night...”

“I returned to the Vicarage shortly before seven, having bought some shopping for today. I spent the rest of the evening preparing food, and then retired to my room. If I had left the house, you would have heard me as I have to go past your study to leave the Vicarage.”

A light switched on behind Psycho’s eyes, and he piped up, “I was at the King’s Arms with Al and Porker until chucking out time, then I went home and my Mum will vouch for me.”

“Oh, goody!” exclaimed Violet. “Are we playing Alibi? I love Alibi! Ask me what I was doing last night, please? Please?”

I suppressed a sigh, and said, “Violet, what were you doing last night after eight o’clock?”

“I was off playing with the fairies. And the night before that, and the night before that.”

I glanced at her sharply. That response was just a little too… yes, almost like she was playing to the gallery. Still, there was nothing but a girlish innocence behind her eyes. I looked over to Abigail who shook her head, very slightly. At that moment, Dennis entered the room.

Albert chose that moment to vent his frustration at Larry’s continued refusal to answer his phone. Perhaps this was indeed some form of Pavlovian response, just not a very useful one.

“Do you want me to have this gentleman removed?” asked Dennis.

Tempting, tempting, but probably not the best idea.

“No, it’s fine. I was wondering – could you arrange to have someone check on the Methodist Superintendent Minister?”

“Oh, really?” he asked, in what he probably thought was a casual manner, “Why’s that, then?”

“Because I suspect some harm has come to him.”

He regarded me for a moment, then pulled out his phone. “Do you have any custard creams?” he asked as he started to dial.

“I bought them last night,” said Abigail.

“What?” asked Albert, “You think something has happened to Larry?”

“Do try and keep up,” said Bishop James, tapping his crook on the flagstones.

“Maybe it’s the Deep Church,” said Jimmy, with a half-hearted attempt at a chuckle.

Martin sniggered, and I made a mental note to ask him about this later, but in the meantime I scribbled down Larry’s address and passed it to Dennis.

“Let us pray,” said Bishop James, and, conditioned like Pavlov’s dogs, we bowed our heads for the pre-service prayer.

The service started punctually. It started at page one of the especially printed service books, and finished on page fifteen, exactly as it was supposed to. Jimmy managed his lines reasonably well, and an hour later the Local Ecumenical Project was officially running. No one died during the service. As far as the Church of England was concerned, this was a successful service.

After the service, there was a bun fight. This is a particular ritual - generally non-violent despite the name – that is common to many denominations, not just the Church of England. At a bun fight, in addition to a cup of tea and biscuit, attendees are also treated to an array of cakes and sandwiches provided by the parish and made by parishioners such as Abigail.

Psycho ambled up to me in a too-casual manner as I was eating a fairy cake.

“Don’t suppose you had a quiet word with Larry recently?” he asked.

I nodded and was about to respond when Dennis came up to me.

“Just heard,” he said. “Uniform have tried knocking on Seagry’s door and there’s no response. Do you have reason to believe that he’s in danger?”

“Absolutely. If he is in his house, then he is unable to respond. If he’s not there, and there have been no Road Traffic Accidents on a direct route to here, then I would fear the worst.”

Dennis sighed and nodded. “I’ll get them to effect entry to the house,” he said, turning away. “Custard creams, remember?”

A lady approached, looking somewhat nervous. She was perhaps in her early forties with bobbed hair, and if someone were to check the labels in her clothes you could be sure that they were from Marks and Spencers. Unusually, she had a small dog with her, some kind of nondescript terrier. Personally, I regard pets in church in the same way that I regard children. I have no objections, but if they disrupt the service then they should be taken outside until they calm down. Strangely, it is only ever dog and horse owners who bring their pets into church – I do not know why.

“Excuse me,” she said, “This is Truffles. Have you seen Larry?”

This demonstrates nicely why I always pay attention to what people tell me. By correlating the facts before me with information I had received earlier, I was able to deduce that this was the fiancée of Larry Seagry. It also reminded me to ask Bishop James what kind of pet he would have. I had been slipping in my pet research and Mabel was getting restive. Still, the immediate issue was the lady in front of me.

“I’m sorry, Margaret,” I replied, “He didn’t turn up this morning. I’ve arranged for someone to call in on him, just to make sure he’s alright.”

“Thank you. I’m so worried, because I know this service was really important. He kept telling me about how it would increase the membership of the circuit.”

“Indeed. Perhaps if you give me your contact details, then if I hear anything I can let you know.”

I gave her one of my cards – even in the electronic age, it is useful for a vicar to be able to hand out a card with their contact details. It’s quicker than digging out a phone, for one thing, and can also be used as a book mark. I made a note of her details and moved on to circulate the enlarged congregation.

After a few more conversations, I headed in the direction of Bishop James, who was clearly wanting to be off. The bun fight had got me out of the requirement of having to offer the Bishop lunch, so there was no reason for him to stay.

“Any sign of the missing Super?” he asked.

“No, but I’ll keep you informed.”

He nodded.

“Do you have a pet?” I asked him.

“That’s a bit of a segue. Why do you ask?”

“Mabel is interested in getting a pet, so I thought it prudent to consider pros and cons.”

“Ah, I see. Well, I don’t have a pet, although I used to keep fish. I can see advantages to having a monkey, though.”

“A monkey?”

“Yes. I think I would call it Dean.”

“A name that is sure to invite comment.”

“Never underestimate the value of getting people to talk. Still, must be off.”

Gradually, people were drifting away, especially now the Bishop was leaving. No one was too bothered by Albert’s departure, which had been five minutes after the end of the service. I overheard Psycho saying something to Jimmy about “the Words of Death” and made a mental note that this was something that I should discuss with him.

A voice behind me said, “Custard creams.”

“They’re at the Vicarage, Dennis.”

“Smart man. I wouldn’t bring them here either.”

“Smart Abigail, actually.”

“She knew I would be visiting?”

“No, not at all. She knows I don’t like ginger nuts, and while it’s only number five on the top ten of adult biscuits, it scores heavily as a budget friendly option.”

“Seriously?”

“Yes – at least, that’s what I read in the Musdon Chronicle. Number five and budget friendly.”

“No, I meant the ginger nut thing.”

“Why don’t you come over to the Vicarage and have a custard cream?”

Disclaimer: Although Rev. Wilson does make a valid point regarding Custard Creams, as usual he neglects some important data. Both the Garibaldi and the Fig Roll deserve mentions due to their fruit content. A biscuit that can count as one of your five-a-day is a virtuous biscuit. Deciding between the Garibaldi and the Fig Roll depends on whether or not it is intended as a dunking biscuit. In the event of dunking, the Fig Roll is definitely superior due to its ability to retain form in an extended dunk. However, the Garibaldi does holds the edge in the non-dunking category.