I first met Seonai on Ko Yao Noi, the tiny island in south Thailand where she was living with her son Ziyo and her second husband, Mat. Even though there was no one else in the café, she sat at my table, announcing she was desperate for intelligent female conversation. We hardly stopped chatting from then on, however many miles there were between us. She was a brilliant conversationalist, interested in everything. Always nosing out something new, ferreting around on the web, following up leads on something that had tickled her curiosity. Our last conversation, ten days before she died, was so typically her: she gave me a recipe for a mozarella thing her restaurant friend had just brought her; she wanted to research why the woman who'd written the Country Diary of an Edwardian Lady had drowned; she described her own panic attacks – like having her head held underwater she said. And she talked about the meditation techniques she used when breathing was difficult. I only ever really knew Seonai when she was sick. After our Ko Yao meeting, when she'd been fine, the next time we met was when she turned up in Bromley – less of a Seonai-type place it would be hard to imagine – where she'd been sent by friends in Thailand to be treated for TB in hospital. The TB left her lungs in a terrible, depleted state, and it killed her in the end, as she knew it would. There were so many stays in hospitals, in Bromley and then in Brighton, but she was always a pleasure to visit, always a sparkling addition to the ward, pink nail polish to hand. And who of all of us friends didn't sneak a box of wine in so she could slurp away once the sister was out of sight. Brighton was such an obvious home for her in the last couple of years. She got involved in loads of things: disability rights, TB Alert, raising awareness about Burma. She had so many friends around her and within easy access. She could hear the seagulls. I'm not sure if she can hear the seagulls now. I suspect she'd say that she could. There was a great big Buddhist calm at the centre of Seonai and I'm pretty sure that would have helped her at the last. Dear, sweet Seonai, forever an inspiration.