Wander round St Albans while Shark, Squirrel and Tiger attend their new teen social group.
Basically, apart from the cooking that goes on here weekly, it looks like an anarcho-syndicalist party of teens who meet in a hut.
Be wary of them, that's all I'm saying, because one day they might be in your local government, where some of them have dodgy ideas about how to spend your taxes. (On municipal fish tanks.)
Anyway, parents can stay or go. I went. I fantasised about using the unaccompanied hours by escaping St Albans altogether, maybe travelling to London on my own.* Then I bought a book about political theory in a charity shop.
I think there should be pictures. In the absence of my afternoon in St Albans, have yesterday's bones book, suited to a radiographer.
*Such stuff makes my most pleasant of day dreams. (I am a person of meagre ambitions.)