The 85-year-old living in her own art installation

One of the things Kreitzman is rarely seen without is a neck shrine, a chunky personalised sculpture to wear around the neck.

Kreitzman has made hundreds - if not more than a thousand - of them.

I was given the chance to make one of my own in her back garden workshop.

Kreitzman gave me a Masai beaded collar, bought ethically from a female Kenyan designer, to work with.

"It has to mean something to you," said Kreitzman of the customised design.

I had brought along a variety of objects, including two necklaces given to me by past interviewees, a papier mache heart made years ago by my daughter and two miniature microphones to symbolise my career as a broadcaster.

Inside the workshop are various drawers and boxes labelled "teeth"or "eyeballs".

The former are real, the latter are not (in case you were wondering).

As Kreitzman pointed out: "I'm an artist, not a serial killer."

When my neck shrine was finally finished, it was pronounced "exquisite" and left to dry, while salt beef and cream cheese beigels arrived from nearby Brick Lane.

How would Kreitzman describe herself?

"Obsessive, bonkers and extremely colourful," she said. "I work outside the mainstream, I have never had any training, I just make it up as I go along.

"I was always told I couldn't be an artist, I could never do the things the way they wanted me to. I was always getting it wrong."

Even as a child colouring with the crayons she loved, she seemed to be doing the wrong thing.

"My mother would say, 'why did you do it like that?' and I could never explain."

Kreitzman does not like to sell her work. She prefers to swap pieces with friends and her pieces are intermingled with many gifts from other people.

"But I don't just throw it together, it all has meaning," she explained. "It makes me feel safe."

She motioned to the Egyptian busts and said: "These heads, they talk to me."

What do they say?

"It depends on what mood they're in and what mood I'm in," she said. "Each has animus, they each have a soul."

Outside, in the back garden, is the Museum Shed, with a sign saying "drama queen" over the door.

"Do you know about the goddess phones?" she asked, sitting down in what she called her "throne" next to a collection of bejewelled old-fashioned telephones.

"You can call a goddess on one of these phones when you really need help," she said. "They connect you to something mystical, and you never know exactly who's going to answer. I love that idea."

As the afternoon went on, more colourful people arrived at the house.

Artist Elizabeth Joseph, known for making miniature furniture, was dressed head to toe in crochet and even had huge crochet bangles on her arm and a crocheted ring.

Joseph met Kreitzman at Spitalfields, where Kreitzman is often seen for the monthly colour walk. They were both rummaging for treasure at one of the junk stalls.

"She saw my bracelets that I wearing and she just came at me," chuckled Joseph.

Kreitzman added: "I loved her from first sight."

The doorbell went again and a walking sculpture dressed in an Anne Boleyn-style quilted dress with beaded face mask appeared.

French artist Anne-Sophie Cochevelou, external, one of Kreitzman's mentees, was wearing gold platform shoes which she proudly proclaimed she could cycle there in.

Cochevelou says Kreitzman proclaimed her an artist and that made her believe in herself.

"Sometimes if I'm feeling a bit low, a little bit uninspired, I come here," she said.

"I get all the creative energy and when I leave, I feel all pumped up and refreshed and ready to make art."