With summer weather now more or less upon us (discounting the chance spring shower), most of my New York hipster shoes have gone back into the closet for warm weather hiatus, replaced by the trusty California-boy standard flip flops.

Slipping them on, my gait changes immediately. My steps are easy, deliberate. And so my pace slows – I’ll get there when I get there.

Gradually, the shoe shift makes its way up through the rest of my body. My movements become smooth, relaxed. The constant concerns crowding my brain step aside for thoughts dominated by the words ‘dude’ and ‘rad’.

Work becomes less natural – the constant glow of the monitor no longer draws me, moth-like, to productivity. Instead, I catch myself looking to the window, where the bright sun beckons me outside.

I try and focus on the tasks at hand, but with the flip flops on, my brain is elsewhere, somewhere where I can feel coarse sand between my toes, cool salt-water on slightly burnt skin.