15 January 2017, Crossways SE, Victoria, Australia
Dale Sheppard was injured in a road accident when he was 18. He was an elite basketballer. This is about his path to God.
15 January 2017, Crossways SE, Victoria, Australia
Dale Sheppard was injured in a road accident when he was 18. He was an elite basketballer. This is about his path to God.
11 August 2016, Ballarat, Victoria
In this speech, 14-year old Maddie, of Ballarat, won first place in Ballarat’s Royal South Street Society drama and speech competition with her piece, Dear Cerebral Palsy. It was published by the Murdoch Children's Research Institute web page for Cerebral Palsy Awareness Day.
Dear Cerebral Palsy,
Isn’t it amazing how one’s life can be so perfect, even if it is for just a moment, even if it is stricken with fantasies and dishonesty, whether that untruthfulness lies in the form of a gorgeous imaginary boyfriend or a well-functioning, able body? Then I remember you, my worst enemy, who runs through my veins and clouds my mind. Then I remember all the rubbish that you’ve put me through, all the rubbish no young girl should even have to think about let alone experience.
We have known each other since I came out of the womb. You have always been there, not a foot step behind me. As a young child I never quite understood what you were, let alone how much you would affect and impact my life. Now I’m an adolescent I can comprehend that you will never be gone and that I will never be able to escape your presence. I can now apprehend that you will always be suffocating me, you will always be intoxicating me with your disease.
You are always on my mind, I can never stop thinking about you. The nights are often the hardest. I lay awake drowning myself in my tears. I imagine the miserable future ahead of me. I listen to you tell me that boys will not love me, that I have no place on this earth, that I would be better off dead. I think back to the countless times I have named myself the sad girl, the mistake, the girl with nothing for her. I think back to all those times you have insulted me, isolated me, constricted me.
I think about all those times you would try to introduce me to depression, try to intertwine us as one, urging me to find the highest ledge or the sharpest blade.
I replay all the cruel things you say to me, informing me with such a despised and disgusted manner, that I am useless, worthless, a waste of space, unlovable.
My life has been bombed with oceans of obstacles, skies of despair and millions of questions at the hands of your mission to make my life a living hell. My life has consisted of your taunts, your orders and your ugliness.
But you, cerebral palsy, you will not defeat me, you will not rule and ridicule my life. I will take your presence as a gift because I know that you are a part of me for a reason. I will take your presence as a gift because you are what has shaped me into the bright, bubbly, determined, caring, compassionate girl I am today. You will not destroy me, you will empower me to be the best person I possibly can be.
You can donate to the Murdoch Institute's cerebral palsy register here, to advance knowledge about CP, which will provide better help and support for people with CP.
April 2014 TEDxSydney, Australia
I grew up in a very small country town in Victoria. I had a very normal, low-key kind of upbringing. I went to school, I hung out with my friends, I fought with my younger sisters. It was all very normal. And when I was 15, a member of my local community approached my parents and wanted to nominate me for a community achievement award. And my parents said, "Hm, that's really nice, but there's kind of one glaring problem with that. She hasn't actually achieved anything." (Laughter)
And they were right, you know. I went to school, I got good marks, I had a very low-key after school job in my mum's hairdressing salon, and I spent a lot of time watching "Buffy the Vampire Slayer" and "Dawson's Creek." Yeah, I know. What a contradiction. But they were right, you know. I wasn't doing anything that was out of the ordinary at all. I wasn't doing anything that could be considered an achievement if you took disability out of the equation. Years later, I was on my second teaching round in a Melbourne high school, and I was about 20 minutes into a year 11 legal studies class when this boy put up his hand and said, "Hey miss, when are you going to start doing your speech?" And I said, "What speech?" You know, I'd been talking them about defamation law for a good 20 minutes. And he said, "You know, like, your motivational speaking. You know, when people in wheelchairs come to school, they usually say, like, inspirational stuff?" (Laughter) "It's usually in the big hall."
And that's when it dawned on me: This kid had only ever experienced disabled people as objects of inspiration. We are not, to this kid -- and it's not his fault, I mean, that's true for many of us. For lots of us, disabled people are not our teachers or our doctors or our manicurists. We're not real people. We are there to inspire. And in fact, I am sitting on this stage looking like I do in this wheelchair, and you are probably kind of expecting me to inspire you. Right? (Laughter) Yeah.
Well, ladies and gentlemen, I'm afraid I'm going to disappoint you dramatically. I am not here to inspire you. I am here to tell you that we have been lied to about disability. Yeah, we've been sold the lie that disability is a Bad Thing, capital B, capital T. It's a bad thing, and to live with a disability makes you exceptional. It's not a bad thing, and it doesn't make you exceptional.
And in the past few years, we've been able to propagate this lie even further via social media. You may have seen images like this one: "The only disability in life is a bad attitude." Or this one: "Your excuse is invalid." Indeed. Or this one: "Before you quit, try!" These are just a couple of examples, but there are a lot of these images out there. You know, you might have seen the one, the little girl with no hands drawing a picture with a pencil held in her mouth. You might have seen a child running on carbon fiber prosthetic legs. And these images, there are lots of them out there, they are what we call inspiration porn. (Laughter) And I use the term porn deliberately, because they objectify one group of people for the benefit of another group of people. So in this case, we're objectifying disabled people for the benefit of nondisabled people. The purpose of these images is to inspire you, to motivate you, so that we can look at them and think, "Well, however bad my life is, it could be worse. I could be that person."
But what if you are that person? I've lost count of the number of times that I've been approached by strangers wanting to tell me that they think I'm brave or inspirational, and this was long before my work had any kind of public profile. They were just kind of congratulating me for managing to get up in the morning and remember my own name. (Laughter) And it is objectifying. These images, those images objectify disabled people for the benefit of nondisabled people. They are there so that you can look at them and think that things aren't so bad for you, to put your worries into perspective.
And life as a disabled person is actually somewhat difficult. We do overcome some things. But the things that we're overcoming are not the things that you think they are. They are not things to do with our bodies. I use the term "disabled people" quite deliberately, because I subscribe to what's called the social model of disability, which tells us that we are more disabled by the society that we live in than by our bodies and our diagnoses.
So I have lived in this body a long time. I'm quite fond of it. It does the things that I need it to do, and I've learned to use it to the best of its capacity just as you have, and that's the thing about those kids in those pictures as well. They're not doing anything out of the ordinary. They are just using their bodies to the best of their capacity. So is it really fair to objectify them in the way that we do, to share those images? People, when they say, "You're an inspiration," they mean it as a compliment. And I know why it happens. It's because of the lie, it's because we've been sold this lie that disability makes you exceptional. And it honestly doesn't.
And I know what you're thinking. You know, I'm up here bagging out inspiration, and you're thinking, "Jeez, Stella, aren't you inspired sometimes by some things?" And the thing is, I am. I learn from other disabled people all the time. I'm learning not that I am luckier than them, though. I am learning that it's a genius idea to use a pair of barbecue tongs to pick up things that you dropped. (Laughter) I'm learning that nifty trick where you can charge your mobile phone battery from your chair battery. Genius. We are learning from each others' strength and endurance, not against our bodies and our diagnoses, but against a world that exceptionalizes and objectifies us.
I really think that this lie that we've been sold about disability is the greatest injustice. It makes life hard for us. And that quote, "The only disability in life is a bad attitude," the reason that that's bullshit is because it's just not true, because of the social model of disability. No amount of smiling at a flight of stairs has ever made it turn into a ramp. Never. (Laughter) (Applause) Smiling at a television screen isn't going to make closed captions appear for people who are deaf. No amount of standing in the middle of a bookshop and radiating a positive attitude is going to turn all those books into braille. It's just not going to happen.
I really want to live in a world where disability is not the exception, but the norm. I want to live in a world where a 15-year-old girl sitting in her bedroom watching "Buffy the Vampire Slayer" isn't referred to as achieving anything because she's doing it sitting down. I want to live in a world where we don't have such low expectations of disabled people that we are congratulated for getting out of bed and remembering our own names in the morning. I want to live in a world where we value genuine achievement for disabled people, and I want to live in a world where a kid in year 11 in a Melbourne high school is not one bit surprised that his new teacher is a wheelchair user.
Disability doesn't make you exceptional, but questioning what you think you know about it does.
27 October 2015, NDIS New World Conference, Brisbane, Australia
Bruce Bonyhady is the Chairman of the National Disability Insurance Agency
Ladies and gentlemen, welcome. Welcome to the NDIS New World Conference.
I would like to acknowledge the traditional owners of the land on which we are meeting, the Jagera and Turubul peoples and pay my respects to their elders past and present.
The Prime Minister recently said that this is an exciting time to be an Australian.
It"s an even more exciting time to be an Australian with a disability.
It"s exciting because – after years of campaigning, designing, planning and piloting – we are about to move into the full rollout stage of the National Disability Insurance Scheme.
It"s exciting because technological advancements, digital disruption and innovation are already transforming the lives of people with disability and creating a world with unlimited possibilities and opportunities.
And it"s exciting because the NDIS is a platform for innovation.
Looking at where that innovation might take us, it helps to think of the NDIS like Moore"s Law.
Moore"s Law states that the processing speeds of computers double every two years.
This exponential growth in processing power is why our phones are far more powerful than the computers that guided the Apollo Moon landing.
The NDIS will also have an exponential impact – as it has the potential to create a future as unimaginable to us today as an iPhone would have been to the astronauts on Apollo 11.
The point I am making is this:
If the NDIS were Apollo 11 we would be counting down for lift off.
This is just the beginning.
With that in mind the thinking behind this NDIS New World Conference is simple:
Bring together people with disability, families, carers, service providers and the technology industry, and focus on the ways in which technology can create that new world for people with a disability.
Technology has a leading role to play in the implementation of the NDIS – not just in the run up to the full scheme in 2019, but in the decades that follow.
How much of a leading role?
That depends on our ambition and imagination.
Now, I"m not a technologist and – as my children regularly remind me – not even a savvy user of technology.
So, I"m not about to stand here and tell you what to create – innovation does not work like that.
Innovation works best when we adopt a start-up mentality.
Innovation works best when we are prepared to try something new – and learn from the experience … and try again. And again.
Innovation works best when we are flexible in our thinking – when we see with fresh eyes – when we are prepared to start at square one … to reframe an issue, as the NDIS itself has done.
Innovation works best when we make it simple – when, rather than building institutions – we put ourselves in the shoes of the people we are serving … and work with them to understand their needs and aspirations.
Innovation also works best when governments get out of the way. When we create enabling environments where innovation, including innovation in technology, flourishes.
Our expectation is that the better we use technology the better the NDIS will be.
With that in mind I want to provide some context by:
Briefing you on where we are at with the NDIS;
Explaining the principles of the NDIS; and,
Outlining the opportunities and challenges of the NDIS.
Let me start with a quick briefing.
Where We Are At
The NDIS is currently being piloted in seven trial sites around the country and has 19,817 participants.
It is on time, on budget and participant satisfaction is above 90 per cent.
Between now and 2019, the number of participants is set to increase by a factor of more than 20.
By 2019 – just four years from now – the Scheme will be rolled out nationally and will have around 460,000 participants.
Government expenditure on disability services will double – from 0.5 per cent to 1 per cent of GDP – and the Scheme will be funded from general taxation revenues and an increase in the Medicare levy.
What taxpayers will receive in return is the security of knowing that every man, woman and child in the Commonwealth who is born with or acquires a significant disability before the age of 65 is covered by the NDIS.
The Scheme will include people with intellectual, physical, sensory and psychosocial disabilities.
It will also include early intervention services for children and adults with progressive disabling conditions.
All participants in the NDIS – all 460,000 of them – will then receive the funds to purchase 'reasonable and necessary" supports.
Let me now quickly explain the principles of the NDIS.
A Revolutionary Idea
The National Disability Insurance Scheme is revolutionary.
It is revolutionary …
not because it is replacing the old system,
not because it is doubling funding,
not because it has created a new Federal body – the National Disability Insurance Agency – making its benefits portable right across Australia.
The NDIS is revolutionary because it is taking an entirely new approach to disability services …
an approach that is built around the needs and the potential of the individual,
an approach that sees the individual as a life-long investment, rather than a year-to-year unit of cost,
an approach that replaces the welfare model of disability services with an insurance model.
In short, the NDIS is based on insurance principles.
Traditionally, the costs of disability services have been approached with a short- to medium-term outlook.
As a result, technology has often been seen more as a short-term cost than a long-term investment.
The insurance model of disability – and its approach to technology – are radically different.
Under an insurance model, expenditure is factored in over the life of an individual and scheme sustainability is measured by calculating and controlling the total future costs of all those who are insured.
This approach creates an incentive to make short-term investments that reduce long-term costs.
For instance, the best way to reduce long-term costs is to increase an individual"s independence and enable their participation in the community and work.
That means taking an individual approach to services – giving people what they need right now, including cutting edge technology for which there is an investment case, to help them live a more productive life for the rest of their lives.
That might mean …
funding a person the type of wheelchair – or even two specialised wheelchairs – that maximise their independence at home and in the community,
or providing an iPad that includes specialist applications to help a person with an intellectual disability learn the skills they need to live and work in the community,
or using the Agency"s lifetime cost estimator to approve the purchase of a hoist or other equipment that makes it possible to get a person with a physical impairment out the door to university or work with one support worker rather than two,
or using technology and the internet to help participants in the NDIS make informed choices – and allowing those participant-led choices to spark new services, opportunities and innovation.
Technology has a central role to play in the success of the NDIS – participant by participant.
But the success of the NDIS is also in the national interest.
In 2011, the Productivity Commission undertook a major independent analysis of disability care and support. It found that the NDIS would result in an additional 320,000 people with a disability and 80,000 carers being employed and boost Gross Domestic Product by 1 per cent by 2050.
This means that while national expenditure on disability services is projected to increase by 0.5 per cent, in return, the economy is projected to increase by 1 per cent.
In short, the NDIS is a sound investment in our economy, as well as our society.
I"d now like to turn to some of the opportunities for new technologies and new applications of technology that the NDIS may create.
The NDIS itself is in part a product of technology, because the organisers of the Every Australian Counts campaign used technology brilliantly to build, motivate and mobilise a supporter base of more than 150,000 people.
The campaign was an old-fashioned grassroots campaign that became a national phenomenon through the agency of the Internet and the connectivity of social media.
Now the NDIS will repay the favour by turbocharging investment in technology.
When fully rolled out, the NDIS will invest $1 billion-a-year in technological supports and devices.
Not only that, how and where that $1 billion-a-year is spent will be decided by the 460,000 participants in the NDIS.
One of the defining characteristics of the NDIS is control and choice.
Every participant in the NDIS will have control over the services and supports they receive.
Those services will be individualised to suit the reasonable and necessary needs of each participant.
Those services will be highly decentralised, with local area coordination of locally-based care.
And support through the NDIS will be portable.
If a person with a disability wants to move to another state with their family their entitlement to the NDIS – and therefore their level and standard of care – will move with them.
Only time will tell how people exercise their choices – and control their lives.
In other words, we are creating a $1 billion market for technological innovation in disability services.
If companies want to win a share of this market, they will need to be competitive.
They will need to think national and act local.
Some of the competitors and some of the enablers will be global, because the NDIS is a major global opportunity.
For example, IBM, Apple, Microsoft and Google – are considering incubating accessibility ideas in Australia as a direct result of the NDIS. They are all at this conference.
The National Disability Insurance Agency wants to create an enabling environment which encourages innovation and new entrants, as well as established players.
We are also looking to create an e-market.
When the NBN is complete, access to the internet will be close to Australia-wide and this will help to underpin the Agency"s rural and remote strategy. The NBN"s target for full roll-out is 2020 and so aligns closely to the NDIS.
Organisations that use technology smartly will have an advantage.
Technology will also play a very important role in facilitating diverse and competitive markets.
The more competitive the market, the more power will shift to individuals and the greater will be the efficiency, effectiveness and innovation, which will contribute to the long-term sustainability of the NDIS.
Technology will also help participants become informed consumers.
New apps are already being developed and many more will follow.
As a result the technology market generated by the NDIS will be much larger than $1billion.
Some of the new technology will be specialised.
Some new technologies will be developed as part of mainstream responses as companies seek to broaden their customer bases to include those with impairments.
In other cases, technology developed primarily for people who do not have disabilities will have particular benefits for those living with disability. An example is text to voice and voice to text software.
Voice recognition software has developed enormously over the past decade – making life easier for everyone.
However, if you are vision impaired or have limited literacy skills due to an intellectual disability, voice recognition software can literally open a new world.
On the other hand, technologies to translate information into other languages or, for example, easy English are in their infancy. But I am confident that in time we will see major improvements.
For a country as culturally and linguistically diverse as Australia, this will create major benefits, including amongst people with disability, because disability does not discriminate.
The digital divide is normally characterised in terms of income or access but there is also a digital divide that applies to people with disability.
Technology can add to this divide or reduce it.
Technology can also help to build inclusion and create new forms of social capital.
For instance, in Sweden the internet is bringing isolated parents of children with profound disabilities together with experts to teach them about augmentative and alternative communication and to form networks of support.
Another group in Sweden is working with local governments to create 'Social Rescue' – an app that allows people with disability who are travelling alone and not feeling safe to connect with safety houses, friends and relatives.
In many ways the internet is the ultimate social good.
Traditional business models, and especially new businesses, have had an immediate revenue imperative.
In contrast, with the internet and internet start-ups the currency is usually new subscribers – which is why so many online services or apps are either free or relatively inexpensive.
That"s why the internet is an 'open-source" opportunity for people with disability, which we are seeking to highlight through this conference.
As I've said, these are exciting times. But challenging times, too.
Challenging because scaling up and then industrialising the operations of the NDIS is complex.
Challenging because there is no turning back – because the old ways of doling out disability services was broken.
Challenging because we need to find new ways to build a new, more inclusive nation – a nation that no longer shuts out people with a disability, together with their families and carers.
Challenging because we need to create a new world – and that"s why this conference is so important.
Technology therefore provides a major opportunity for people with a disability, of still unknown dimensions.
Our ambition needs to match the size and scale of the opportunity.
We need to seize the opportunity of the NDIS right now.
We need to be agile.
We need to treat people with disabilities as partners.
We need to recognise that co-design is essential.
We need to create an environment that fosters the development and use of smart technology side-by-side with the NDIS.
We need to enter a New World.
Then people with disability will be equal citizens and have equal power.
29 July, 2012, Melbourne Australia
As always, it's a pleasure to be here today - this ceremony for me always has an almost ecclesiastical feel, as we share and honour work inspired by the pain and trauma of a cancer diagnosis. My category is the young writers category, and the task of judging these pieces is, I promise you, a half day, half box of tissues affair. But the standard is always exceptional and this year, I promise, is no exception.
We all know our own pain best. I don't wish to deflect from the outstanding work of young writers in the audience today, nor do I wish to conflate my pain with theirs. But given the cathartic notes this event is capable of adducing, I'll ask your permission to share a little of my past year, particularly in light of one entry that had an enormous impact on me.
I haven’t felt comfortable speaking much about Jack’s cerebral palsy. We found out on my wife’s birthday last year, a devastating ‘can you come in’ phone call from a paediatrician on the eve of our son’s discharge from the Mercy’s Special Care Nursery.
Amidst the intermittent joy of having a new baby, it’s been a year full of uncertainty and fear. How severe will it be? What faculties will be affected? Will he walk? Talk? Go to school? Have friends? Leave home? Fall in love?
Will he be okay when we die?
Will he be okay?
The best advice any medical practitioner gave me over the twelve months was a GP at Clifton Hill Medical Centre. ‘Stop trying to imagine the future because you won’t get it right. Life’s too mercurial for any of us to imagine what’s going to happen.’
I have been almost entirely unsuccessful at following this advice.
Nevertheless, I stand here today, and I feel capable of articulating the pain. The sharp grief of twelve months ago has been worn smooth by simple effluxion of time.
It’s my fifth year doing this job, and it’s always an emotional ceremony. As most of you know, the idea of the awards is that people who have been touched by cancer express their experience through art – whether it be film, photography, visual art, poetry or short stories.
Last year, as I stood here, I was full to the brim with my own sadness, and it overflowed into great show stopping sobs. I battled on, embarrassedly aware that everything had suddenly become about me, even when so many of you have your own battles, your own dark clouds to worry about.
Today, I won't fall apart. Certainly not in that way. Possibly because I’m feeling stronger, that the sadness for the loss of the dream of a perfect baby has been healed by time spent with the wonderful baby we do have. For Jack is wonderful, and the easiest parts of what has been a harrowing journey have been those spent with him in arms. But just as likely, it’s passage of time. Maintaining the grief is as exhausting as maintaining the rage, and although the sadness is no longer so fresh that I’m breaking down in public situations, I’m still looking at every alert, crawling, fully-sighted one year old and thinking ‘not my baby’, and I’m still looking at active, able bodied adults and thinking ‘will he ever?’.
How does it go again? ‘Stop trying to imagine the future because you won’t get it right.’
The other consistent advice we have been given by other parents of children with disabilities is to accept help, support each other, and enjoy the victories when and if they occur. A poem we’ve been forwarded several times is ‘Welcome to Holland’ by Emily Pearl Kingston. It’s right about the windmills – they are very nice – but it’s also right about the pain. We wanted to go to Italy.
Of course pain is inevitable. it’s impossible to reach middle age without facing one or all of death, illness, unemployment, estrangement, betrayal, rejection or failure. One of the privileges of judging the Cancer Council Arts Awards is that the entrants lay bare their pain in a way that takes a courage and openness that I, as a writer, rarely feel capable of. Indeed I’m only saying this because these young artists we're honouring today inpsired me to do so.
There were many great entries, all of which are profiled on the Arts Awards website. You can vote for a favourite as part of the People’s Choice award. Here are a few of my mine:
In the children’s visual art category, Lanya Johns painted this amazing piece ‘Three Faces Have We’. Her artist statement reads:
“I remember hearing my Mum talk about a quote once that goes something like, ‘Everybody has two faces – be careful of those with three’. I feel sometimes like cancer has given us three faces. There is the public smiley face, the private and terrified face – and then the face that we all try to protect each other from seeing. We are lucky we three. We have each other, and all our faces.”
In the adult’s visual art category, the commended entry was ‘Ben’ by Vanessa Maccauley
In the Indigenous Art category, Rex Murray painted this affecting piece about the feeling of helplessness he had dealing with the death of his brother, the strong, active kid that he used to jump into rivers with as a kid.
And in the Children’s Writing section, the one that I judged, the winning entry was this tribute by Mena Sebo to her Mum, ‘I Love You as Much as You Love Me’.
But maybe the piece that spoke to me more than any other was the one I awarded the top prize in the Youth Writing section. It’s a poem by Elle Richards, ‘What goes unsaid’ and it’s about the everyday ‘how are you’ gambit that opens so many of our social interactions. It's called, 'What goes unsaid'
What Goes Unsaid
A friend stops and waves,
“Hey! It’s good to see you, how are you?”
I was only twelve.
Cancer had lurked in my hallway; tapped on my window.
It had seeped through the cracks in my wall.
I had breathed it in, let it fill my lungs.
It never left me,
never stopped haunting me.
Good morning Cancer,
but never goodnight.
It had shadowed the dark,
followed me to school.
It had entwined itself in my thoughts,
left me sleeping with the light on,
afraid of its presence,
angry at its power.
I had sat by as chemotherapy claimed my mother’s hair,
turned her skin yellow and made her bones weak.
I had watched radiation therapy.
Seen my mother’s body burned by clunking machines.
The machines had no feelings, they burned scar upon scar.
But my mother had feelings, and she cried.
I had screamed.
Slammed doors, punched pillows.
I had felt anger claw at my stomach;
it had made me feel sick and alone.
I had let tears run to my mouth and soothe my cracked lips.
I cried until I felt no emotion at all. None.
I had seen my mother break down in the kitchen.
She had curled herself in a ball; hugged her knees and screamed.
I had sat next to her; I didn’t say anything.
I didn’t touch her. I just sat there.
Next to her.
Just as afraid.
I had been jealous of the gifts that landed at our front door.
Beautiful soaps and chocolates.
One after the other.
Not for me.
Not a single card or flower.
I had seen her with only one breast.
I had seen her, too sick and too tired to move.
I had seen my mother tangled in tubes.
Covered by white sheets,
And unnaturally white skin.
I had checked on her every morning.
I checked while she was sleeping,
hoping she was just sleeping.
I had slipped into her bed and wrapped myself in her blankets.
I had gently maneuvered myself between her warm arms and cuddled my head near
her chest. Gingerly. Carefully.
I had rested my chin near the scars that were her breast.
And laid there, warm and comfortable,
but still afraid.
But every scar on my mother’s chest,
every tube in her arm,
every tear on her face,
made me stronger.
And I believed if I gave all my strength to my mother, she would live.
So I blew it into a purple crystal and put it by her bed.
Now this man is smiling at me, asking how I am.
And it takes all my strength to reply simply;
“I’m good thanks, and you?”
Congratulations Elle. Congratulations to all our winners. Thank you.