In all the years I knew Rena Collins, both during the live export protests and after, I don't recall ever seeing her smiling easily or laughing.

Life was a serious business for Rena and she pursued animal rights and civic issues with a fierce and powerful concentration of effort.

The picture which accompanied her obituary (The Argus, December 31) was taken on the seafront by the Aquarium Terraces where she had been desperate to protect the area from developers who would ruin her sea view and the integrity of Brighton.

She would ring me up and tell me about it to try to involve me. In fact, it was probably Rena who woke me up to intrusive development threats and now I, too, campaign on these issues.

One day Rena rang me up, full of business-like urgency, wanting to force the council to withdraw its cruel "Bird Control" leaflet and she was arranging a big demonstration outside Hove Town Hall. Dragooned into doing my bit, I accepted the large sheet brought to my home for me to turn into a big banner.

Remembering that in the wake of the Shoreham Live Export Campaign, Ivor Caplin, then leader of Hove Council, had agreed to produce an Animal Awareness Charter which was stocked in Hove Town Hall's publications area, I painted the words "Animal Awareness Charter" across the length of the sheet and below it in huge letters, the word "BETRAYED".

Rena got a big drum, some people and someone to dress up as a bird. She rang The Argus, which duly covered it, sending a photographer and a reporter. She wanted to do it again the next day.

The council was embarrassed and it was then possible to write to Ivor Caplin and suggest that perhaps a "Bird Awareness" leaflet could be produced. He agreed. Sadly, in the year or two after Hove was merged with Brighton, that Bird Awareness leaflet was dropped.

Rena used to tell me off about my letters to The Argus being "over people's heads". She understood billboard language and punchy writing and knocked the academic out of my letters.

Over the last few years, she drummed her fingers impatiently, kept in God's Waiting Room (in Brighton) too long and would ring me to say she wanted to die.

It was always said crisply and without emotion. It was time to go - like it's time to leave a party, wind up a meeting, leave the theatre or empty the bins. And God probably got an earful when she was finally granted her exit.

Rena Collins was never without her slap on, her head high and "ready for my close-up, Mr de Mille". She was of the Brighton of old, which incomers today will never have known and she had truly spirited style.

-Valerie Paynter, Hove